by CrimsonNoble
A/N:
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, and definite 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 10:
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts. 0822, January 3.
The old man's blue eyes twinkled begninly. "Miss Raye! This is
inexcuseable!"
Raye sighed. "It is 'rok."
To cover his not-quite-understanding, Dumbledore prised a lemon drop
from his pocket, and began to suck. "What is?"
Raye's eyes rolled. "My name. It is Raye'rok, if you must add to it.
Otherwise, don't bother."
Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Which does not address the simple fact that --"
Raye interrupted at this point, "--I kill people for a living."
Dumbledore's face fell slightly. "You do?"
Raye nodded, her blue hair bobbing with the motion. "Yes, but go on."
Dumbledore looked at her solemnly for a moment before continuing.
"Your abuse of my students is intolerable. Why, Miss Granger could
barely walk when they came back from your--dare I say it?--class."
Bleach colored lips curled in a derisive manner. "She is not the kind
of person who will do what is neccessary. I know this. I am trying to
get her out of my class. The girl may be smart, but she is still
useless without application. She will not kill when the time comes. I
do not want her in my class. Take her and her boyfriend out."
The aged wizard frowned. "You are teaching them to... kill?"
Inverted eyes shut boredly. "Yeah. Get over it. I am teaching them to
win wars, not to coddle. Yeah, when this war is over they will be
discarded. Maybe they will find that there is more to the world than
England. That there are other so called Lords who threaten. That there
are other wars to fight. English wizards are so arrogant. You believe
you have the only destructive infestation..."
Dumbledore's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed another chunk of the
yellow sweet. "Why do you say that?" He inquired.
Raye's eyes opened again, and gazed unfocused out the window. "Can you
honestly tell me you know the names of the last four killers in Japan?
Mongolia? Iraq? Greenland? Hell, Iceland? Any?"
Dumbledore's head slowly shook in a negative response.
"Yeah." Raye's smile was full of obscene glee. "You should go visit
Iceland. Nice little place. A breeding ground for homicidal maniacs."
The old, yet younger, man sighed. "I... do you want a lemon drop?" He
asked after a long pause.
Raye laughed heartily. "Yes, I think I would."
She accepted the candy, palming it as she pretended to put it in her
mouth. Surreptitiously she tossed it under the desk.
If the old man noticed, he didn't mention it.
"Tell me, Dumbledore. Have you ever killed someone just to watch them
die?"
This question succeeded in doing something people had been trying to
do for years. It made the wizard's knees knock together. "No." He
snapped decisively.
Raye's lips drew into another thin smile. "Neither have I." At the man's
look of relief she continued, "I killed five more so he wouldn't be
lonely."
The old man sagged in his chair. "Why...?" There had to be a reason,
he thought desperately. No one would just kill...
Inverted eyes focused on his face, before closing dismissively. "I
think you already know the answer."
Dumbledore's eyes hardened, and he asked again, more insistently,
"Why?"
Raye slowly responded. "Did you know? Gods exist because of belief.
And when those who believe in them move to a new land, the gods go
with them. But they are no longer the same gods. Because those who
stay behind also keep the gods. So the gods seperate, become two
entities instead of one. They survive on belief. And when they are
forgotten, they die. Your Hephaestus, oh do not look so surprised, his
name is written in the way you act, exists because people believe in
him. I have wondered what it would be like to die like they do. I
suppose it would be rather like cyanide poisioning, eating and eating,
but never getting what you need."
"Cyanide?" Queried the old man, puzzled.
"Science tells people that thier bodies break sugars down thirty-two
times, or something like that. Cyanide halts that reaction, so it is
only broken twice. One starves, rather quickly."
Dumbledore, in an impressive switch, attacked her methods of training
again. "And why is Miss Granger useless if she won't kill when the
time arises, as you say?"
Raye blinked, and went over her mental records of the conversation
quickly. "Ahh. She has 'honor'. I do not like to train corpses."
"That makes no sense! Honor does not make someone a corpse!" Burst the
man.
"In a war, honor breeds corpses." Raye offered snidely.
Despite the fallacy of this 'logic', the old man was curious, "How?"
"Honorable people make fights fair. Honorable people do not strike
first, nor fastest, nor hardest, and rarely do they strike last." Raye
slowly trailed off into silence, though her mouth kept moving as if
she was still talking.
In another completely non sequitor comment, Dumbledore offered, "I
have a friend who frequents the darker arenas. Do you know of them?"
Raye nodded distantly, "Yes. I do. After a fashion."
"Good, have you perhaps heard of a 'shockingly lavender huntress'?"
Raye shook her head. "I have not been told of her, no."
The man in the lurid violet robes sighed. "Pity. I would like to
congradulate her on her excellent taste in colour."
Raye broke into a difficult laugh. She felt strangely uncontrolled,
and while it wasn't an entirely forigen sensation, it wasn't one she
particularly liked either.
When she finally regained a measure of control, she spoke. "I believe
I have a class to teach... And get the Granger and her boyfriend out
of my sight. Thanks for the lemon drop..." And then she broke into
more snickering.
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts. 0837, January 3.
-------
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. 0844, January 3.
Raye had returned to her desk, seated on top of it once again. Her
arms braced her, keeping her from lying flat out on her back. The
right leg was draped over the left, and bobbed slowly.
Her eyes, shut serenely, stared up at the ceiling. Or at least, had
they been open they would have.
Once again, the class was in their organized disorder, milling around
waiting for two missing students again, though Malfoy was here this
time. Granger and her boyfriend were missing.
Raye figured she'd give them another minute before she shut the door,
locking them out. Then she'd take her frustration out on her students,
or at least the ones apart from the one that had managed to knock her
down. Not that she had actually been going full out on anyone, but the
vague impression that she should, at least, let them have the illusion
that she could be beaten. Break them in slowly and whatnot. Why?
Because then they would assume that they had been slacking off in
their training, and therefore train harder. Two plus two equals five,
and the like.
The two missing victims barged in with ten seconds to spare. Raye took
careful note of the way their clothes were rumpled, and the way
Weasley was in girl's robes, while Granger was in a male's.
Interesting. Shame them.
"So, now that the two of you have stopped fucking long enough to
attend class, would you care to explain to everyone why you are late?
Your other option, mind, is physical punishment." Raye ignored the
cries of 'injustice!' and denial.
"Choose." She ordered cheerfully.
The two glaced at each other, before finally deciding on physical
punishment.
"Oh, goody! Well now, you have two choices, class. Either I punish
everyone here, or you punish these two to my satisfaction! Believe me,
I do not care which you decide upon."
In an unanimous movement, the entire class turned upon the cross-
dressing students. Raye's delighted smile should have been warning
enough for the two late arrivals, but they didn't heed it.
"Well?" She inquired curiously, "What are you waiting for?"
There was a nervous glance shared among the students, uncertain of
what exactly they were supposed to do. "Oh, for... spells, fists,
feet, whatever."
There was a long moment of silence, before Raye broke it again. "I can
always go for the second punishment..."
This was, evidently, enough to convince them, and Malfoy's foot
stomped on Weasley's ankle, and a loud crack echoed through the room.
Weasley went white, and collapsed like a man with a broken leg. Well,
he had a broken leg, so that wasn't surprising. Raye smiled, and
motioned for the punishment to continue.
There was a vague gagging sound from somewhere in the crowd as a spell
crashed into Granger, slicing her robes open across the midsection,
and sending blood spraying from the new laceration. Raye nodded,
waiting silently for more.
Malfoy grinned, and the back of his left hand, as he still couldn't
really do anything with his right, slammed into the doubled-over
Granger's temple, sending her to the ground. Blaise echoed the
sentiment, and her spell picked Weasley up off the ground before
slamming him back into it.
Raye grinned, shifting uncomfortably on her desk, aware that Tonks was
probably going to enjoy Raye's current state later.
And so the beating proceeded.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. 0850, January 3.
-------
Nymphadora Tonks' Apartment, ????. 1857, January 3.
Tonks unlocked the door, curious as to where exactly Raye was.
Dumbledore himself had asked her to find the woman, so she obeyed. Not
that she had to or anything. But she was curious too. She hadn't seen
her lover since Raye had killed the man.
She stepped in, not looking at the door as she shut it behind her.
Therefore, it was quite understandable that she was a bit surprised
when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. She felt an instant of
panic before her mind pointed out that if it had been someone wishing
her harm, she would already have been unconcious.
When she finally looked down, noting the bleached color of the arms
around her, she felt a set of teeth scrape along the back of her neck,
and closed her eyes, shivering.
She shivered further as a husky, German accented voice whispered in
her ear, "Oooou... Did you like that?" Before she went limp, falling
against the woman behind her.
Numphadora Tonks' Apartment, ????. 1858, January 3.
Vengeful Creature--seven sixteenths of an inch.
Reika--On my part, I like f/f, and am quite satisfied with m/m. And
aside from that, I'm writin this for me. No one else. Harry is Raye,
that's his name. And his name is quite important to him. But, as I
told Relle: "Harry may or may not reappear as a male. If he does,
that'll kinda throw Tonks if it's before I establish something." And
no, you no get explanation of Ange. That's a card I'm going to play
later.
ReginaLucifer--Y'know, it hadn't even crossed my mind that both
Deshwitat and Malfoy had similar defeats... >.
Relle--interesting mental image, that. I've never actually heard of
this Matantei Loki Ragnarok thingy. I also somehow got it into my head
that Loki was also the god of chaos, so that's what he is in my
personal pantheon. Yeah. He's dead. And the only way to technically
win the match is to kill your opponent. Quite literal in 'deathmatch'.
As for why a girl: women have a lower center of gravity then men.
Besides, Raye just likes it that way. Oh, yes, Dumbledore minds. Raye
just doesn't give a damn that he does.
taruial--Yes, I did like American Gods. Unfortunately, I have not read
Sandman, but it looks hella cool.