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Stahl Nacht
by CrimsonNoble
A/N: I's having hella comp problems. Forgive me. Delayed to hell. My
computer doth detest FF.N... And I'm skiving off my English to do this.
I don't like Mr. Wyckoff.
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. Quite probable threesome
relationship between any of the above. 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 13:
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
Severus gave the mental equivalent of a confused blink. That scar
looked strangely familiar, though he couldn't place it. It was like it
was something he'd seen often enough that he had stopped seeing it...
Preposterous. He was a spy, trained to notice all details, no matter
how small or insignificant. Obviously he had never seen it before.
Certainly he would recognize it if he had.
His vision slowly turned toward the newest occupant of the room,
evidently having detected the entrance by the sound of it alone.
This was not right. Severus had been looking for memories of Raye's
childhood. Clearly this was a male's body, and therefore not her.
Obviously there was a mistake here. Perhaps her memory had been
modified?
A second possibility slowly insinuated itself into Snape's thoughts.
What if this was a memory she had created? What if this was a memory
that she used to trap Legilmencers? It would make a certain amount of
sense, but... creating a memory with this level of detail would be
almost impossible. Perhaps then, it was a memory that she had stolen
from someone else? Perhaps a pensive had yeilded this...
But then, why was he seeing this from inside the viewer?
This train of thought was interrupted at the first sight of the
intruder.
It was difficult to say whether the person was a boy or a girl, for
the intruder had a slender figure that seemed to slither rather than
walk, hair cropped just long enough that one lock fell far enough that
the child-like person could suck on it, and yet it, for Severus could
think of no other word to describe the being as, was not wearing a
shirt, revealing that its chest was a mass of scarred flesh, rather
like someone had taken a flamethrower and splashed it with gasoline
before actually using the weapon.
A delighted grin spread from the center of the creature's mouth to its
left cheek, revealing a light dimple. In a perfectly expressionless,
yet terribly excited tone of voice, the response shredded the air. "I,
me, myself... call me Neko!"
Neko's chest shone as he--she?--stepped further into the room,
clarifying that rather than one solid scar, it was uncountable fiber-
thin scars, almost as if it were a mesh shirt.
"You isa comins wit me. We's gonna judge you fo' Ange-hood. Wassyer
name?"
Snape mentally curled his lips into a derisive sneer. He already hated
this travesty of a man, and the man had said less than twenty words to
him. Whoever owned the body he was in, at least.
This was getting confusing, he observed. For lack of a better idea, he
decided to call the body he was inhabiting, 'Lie'.
Lie tilted his head to the side. "I do not see how that matters."
Neko smiled wider, revealing jaggedly broken, urine-yellow teeth.
"Good! Likiies you!"
Freak, Severus thought unkindly.
"Right." Lie agreed. "If you say so."
A pout appeared on the left side of the Neko's face. "Awww... it has
no wit."
Severus watched as the room bounced as Lie nodded agreeably. Amazing.
this person was stupid enough to admit his (or her) inferiority to a
possible enemy.
He deliberately ignored the scent emanating from Neko's body.
Neko turned around and almost seemed to insinuate himself more than
anything else out into the hallway. Lie followed, inserting his hand
into the pocket of his short jacket, gripping the weapon there. The
left hand caressed the second portion of the weapon inside the pocket
of the khaki pants it wore.
It was a long time before anything else happened.
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
-------
The Leaky Cauldron, London. 1824, January 5.
Raye nodded at the motionless body of the greasy one, feeling the
probing touch of his mind as it investigated hers. She turned away,
aware of what was happening to him.
Absently she fingered the ring on her right hand. The metal was dull,
corroded, and mangled from age. The edges of the convex, centimeter-
wide band of metal dug into her skin, and not for the first time she
marveled at the fact that it still held the vague shape of a ring.
Tonks tapped her bare shoulder, calling her attention back from the
breif musing. "You all right?"
Raye blinked a few times, then, puzzled, tilted her head to the right.
"Have I given cause to not be?"
The Leaky Cauldron, London. 1826, January 5.
-------
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
Lie blinked awkwardly. "Um... what?" He asked, unconciously echoing
Snape's thoughts. Though, Severus considered, he was technically the
one echoing the memory. After all, he was the intruder.
Neko rolled his eyes. "Odin sev' meh. I aske' if yeh wante' ter be an
Ange er not."
Snape was equally confused and annoyed. This man-thing was becoming
vastly irritating, he refused to give a straight answer, he point-
blank denied any requests, and it was nearly painful for Severus to
look at him, as one who valued the perfection of his body so much.
"An Ange being what now?" Lie inquired.
The disfigured visage that was Neko managed to goggle. "Yeh dinnae
know whae we ar'?"
The world bobbed as Lie nodded agreeably. "That would be the logical
assumption." Privately Snape agreed, though he personally opined that
Lie would have been a Gryffindor had he gone to Hogwarts. He obviously
didn't have the subtlety of a Slytherin, nor the intellect of a Ravenclaw.
The mauled body dropped the affected accent, now speaking in crisp,
vaguely French, vaguely Russian English. "Why did they send me to get
this flesh-packet? Surely they would not have done this to anyone
else..."
The world bobbed again. "Obviously they hate you. Is it because of the
way you look? Maybe the way you speak, or perhaps your generally idiotic
mannerisms?"
The left side of Neko's mouth twisted angrily. "I can look however I
Forsaken well choose to! Because I do not affect a false perfection
they despise me? I am still one of the Sixteen!"
The world shuttered as Lie blinked, and Severus felt himself almost
sympathizing with the desecrated man.
Almost.
"That was interesting, Neko..." A silken voice echoed out from behind
Lie, and the world streaked past as the body whirled, while Severus
fought the urge to retch, though what a 'technicolor burp' would
consist of here was up for debate, as he was seized by a sensation of
motion sickness.
The woman he found there was certainly one of the more welcome sights
he had seen in quite a long time. Though he was firmly bound to the
old wizard, that didn't mean his eyes weren't allowed to wander.
Her hair was long enough that the ponytail it was drawn back into
could fall over her shoulder, and drape down the front of her body.
Her eyes, the color of molten steel, shone out from underneath thinly
sculpted eyebrows, the same platinum as her hair. Her vaguely-rounded
nose hovered over a pair of full vermillion lips, which were framed by
a smoothly sloping jaw, with a backdrop of skin so white it was almost
blue. Her clothing reflected light brightly, the mirrored surface
flowing like a river over her body, though the shirt hung blockily, as
if she was wearing some sort of body armor beneath it. Her fingers
tapered delicately, tipped with nails cropped short enough that
Severus was shocked that so close a cut could be managed. Around her
waist was tied a red jacket, and a suspicious bulge in one of the
pockets suggested to the disembodied -- or rather, wrongly embodied --
man that she was armed.
She stepped up to him, and for an instant Severus thought she had to
be at least seven feet tall, before he remembered that this was not
his body.
"Come on, Cais..." The one calling himself Neko pleaded. "You know
I like to play with the new arrivals."
This Cais woman, twitched an eyebrow at the man.
"Hurry up. We do not have that long to deal with this. The Two are
preparing to launch an assault on the Second. I have to agree with
them, seventeen is too many."
The world shuttered. "What?" Severus felt the rumble begin in the
throat of the body he was currently occupying.
"Assume your form already. You know we detest waiting."
Neko shrugged. "Nah. I will leave this one in your tender care. He is
beginning to irritate me. Besides, my aid is not needed for the
decision. Seventeen is too many."
"That is the general feeling. Well then, I shall be sure to inform
the rest of your opinion."
Severus raged inwardly at the dismissal. How dare they dismiss him! He
was a first-class wizard, a potions master no less! They had no right
to dismiss him!
Evidentally Lie felt otherwise, as he seemed to shrink into himself.
"Come small one. Unless this statement applies to you: Sterben, Sie,
das schmutzige Hosen haben!"
A bewildered Snape stared out of the body of an equally bewildered
host body. "What?"
"No then. Come along."
Lie obeyed unquestioningly. Once again Severus ignored the scent that
permeated the air around the woman.
Blood. And pain.
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
-------
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. 2040, January 5.
The groggy group of students stumbled around the room, some of them
more distracted by others by their Teacher's choice of attire. Raye
nodded in satisfaction as an idea occurred to her. An object lesson
it would be.
"This is pathetic. Eight forty and you are all tired already? You have
only been under my tender care for two-thirds of an hour!"
Then again, it did usually only take half an hour before they ran away
in fear. She was being lazy.
What the hell, she thought. They are going to knock me down some time
this month. After that she could get down to buisness, instead of this
playing. Tonks would appreciate the results of that.
A subconcious predatory instinct tilted Raye's head away from the
light, casting shadows over her face, letting her inverted eyes
glitter as the retinas reflected. That would be fun...
But, this first!
"Wilkes! Front and center!" She barked.
The boy stumbled forward, tripping over a fragment of desk. Raye had
refused to let the room be cleaned up, on the principle that hazards
made fighting more fun.
"Are you ready?" She inquired, delicately.
"Yes ma'am." He murmured softly. Raye smiled brightly, deciding that
the innocently clumsy show he was putting on was just that -- show. It
was a great technique, make your opponent underestimate you.
Raye shrugged. "Let's start then, shall we?"
Without futher ado, she rolled across the wooden splinters and metal
shards, avoiding the first curse that blasted a hole in the desk she
had appropriated for her seat. She unleashed a barrage of profanity
at the destruction of her desk, and turned toward the boy, a rather
irritated look crossing her features.
Normally she would have let him off with a couple slaps. The desk,
however, demanded retribution.
So, she lunged, dropping her left shoulder to let a curse flash above
it, and then rolling forward to let a second evaporate against the
floor behind her. At some point during the roll she snatched up a
piece of wood, long, sharp, and stake-like, which she flung at the
still-cursing boy. He tried to dodge it, and he nearly did.
Unfortunately for him, she had been aiming for his heart, so his step
to his left took him into the path of the flying projectile, rather
than away from it. Equally fortunately for him, he was left-handed, so
he wouldn't be totally incapacitated, unlike some of his fellows who
had taken injuries to their primary arm.
The splintry pieice of wood stabbed deep into his right shoulder, and
he looked at it curiously for a moment, at the blood falling from it
to streak down his arm and side, and then shrugged as best he was able
with but one arm.
His wand came up again, and instead of a curse, he mumbled, "Incendio,"
blandly. The spell caught the desk next to Raye, lighting it on fire.
Against some people this might have been a good thing. Against Raye,
however, it was a Really Bad Idea, something so ominously bad it did
deserve capitals.
Raye grinned gratefully at him, and ripped a staff off the burning
desk, making sure it was well lit. Then, bobbing and weaving to avoid
the curses being flung at her, she began to advance.
Though it took her several minutes, she got close enough, and swung
the flaming length of pinewood into the side of the child's head,
shattering the staff into a spray of conflagration, setting the
younger man's clothes on fire.
She saw the light flare in his eyes an instant before he stood back
up and rammed his fist into her face with the approximate force of a
jackhammer on concrete. The effects, however, were far different. He
had, unfortunately, shattered his thumb from the poorly-made fist,
broken all four of his knuckles, and fractured his wrist.
Raye looked curiously at the hand partially embedded in her face,
before reaching up and grabbing it. She wrenched, hard, and finished
breaking the numerous bones in his wrist, before slamming him to the
floor in a disused heap.
She knelt cautiously, pressing a pair of fingers to his throat to
check for a pulse. There was none.
Which was unusual, considering the rise and fall of his chest, and the
blood pouring freely from his shoulder.
Freely?
She checked again. Yes, freely. A river, not a geyser. Whatever this
thing was, it had no heartbeat. Ergo, it had no pulse. Ergo, it was
not human.
"Fetch someone," she ordered, more curious as to what the thing lying
at her feet was than worried about its safety.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. 2059, January 5.
-------
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
The world turned slowly as Lie looked around the room, dragging Snape's
vision along with his own. Severus cursed his host to the depths of
hell and back, demanding of Om that he strike this person down with
holy thunderbolts and cast his ashes to the northern winds.
Om, of course, paid no heed to the desperate plea. He had better
things to do. And more pertinent ones, concerning the buxom blonde
that was on his lap at the moment.
Of which Severus knew nothing, and therefore kept his string of
damnings up.
"Well?" Echoed a voice Snape didn't remember the name of.
Lie nodded. "Sure. Why not?"
There was no murmur of assent, but there was no murmur of dissent
either, so Severus figured it balanced out in the end. Or would have,
had he been caring about such things at the moment.
Instead, he was more concerned with his roaring headache, a gift from
the God of Hangovers. Words could not have described how happy that
particular diety had been to discover there was someone he could shunt
his pain off to.
Cais stepped forward. "I will do it. Last one just died on me, so
we have need of a new pupil."
And with that, Lie's fate was sealed.
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
Kitten Rebecca--Give the lady a cookie. Harry even calls himself Raye,
as seen when he slaughters all the MoM dudes.
A reviewer--You must die in some torturous way.
Relle--Happy birthday!...? Snape is going to be unhappy, suffice to
say. And now that you're seventeen, you should go buy Battle Royale.
yes, I'm plugging that everywhere I can, 'cos it deserves it. Have to
import it though.
annoying reviewer--Look, it's a simple concept for anyone with half a
brain to grasp. You don't tell me what to do. Stifle you, Sterben Sie.
And if you're going to try and tell me what to do, learn about a
little thing we like to call "puncutation".
mistik-elf13--A-ha! I see. Tacking. Coolness. Snape'll come out... in
one way or another. And no, Snape don't connect it.
Eihwaz and Lourdaise--Oh, dear god have mercy! E-z-listening music!
Spare us!
Final notes: I've added something to the Warning. Threesome warning,
to be exact. Yeah. Not only is it homosexual, it's threesome
homosexual. Which makes me wonder: the bible says nothing about
polygamy, so why do religious enthusiasts think it's wrong?
by CrimsonNoble
A/N: I's having hella comp problems. Forgive me. Delayed to hell. My
computer doth detest FF.N... And I'm skiving off my English to do this.
I don't like Mr. Wyckoff.
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. Quite probable threesome
relationship between any of the above. 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 13:
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
Severus gave the mental equivalent of a confused blink. That scar
looked strangely familiar, though he couldn't place it. It was like it
was something he'd seen often enough that he had stopped seeing it...
Preposterous. He was a spy, trained to notice all details, no matter
how small or insignificant. Obviously he had never seen it before.
Certainly he would recognize it if he had.
His vision slowly turned toward the newest occupant of the room,
evidently having detected the entrance by the sound of it alone.
This was not right. Severus had been looking for memories of Raye's
childhood. Clearly this was a male's body, and therefore not her.
Obviously there was a mistake here. Perhaps her memory had been
modified?
A second possibility slowly insinuated itself into Snape's thoughts.
What if this was a memory she had created? What if this was a memory
that she used to trap Legilmencers? It would make a certain amount of
sense, but... creating a memory with this level of detail would be
almost impossible. Perhaps then, it was a memory that she had stolen
from someone else? Perhaps a pensive had yeilded this...
But then, why was he seeing this from inside the viewer?
This train of thought was interrupted at the first sight of the
intruder.
It was difficult to say whether the person was a boy or a girl, for
the intruder had a slender figure that seemed to slither rather than
walk, hair cropped just long enough that one lock fell far enough that
the child-like person could suck on it, and yet it, for Severus could
think of no other word to describe the being as, was not wearing a
shirt, revealing that its chest was a mass of scarred flesh, rather
like someone had taken a flamethrower and splashed it with gasoline
before actually using the weapon.
A delighted grin spread from the center of the creature's mouth to its
left cheek, revealing a light dimple. In a perfectly expressionless,
yet terribly excited tone of voice, the response shredded the air. "I,
me, myself... call me Neko!"
Neko's chest shone as he--she?--stepped further into the room,
clarifying that rather than one solid scar, it was uncountable fiber-
thin scars, almost as if it were a mesh shirt.
"You isa comins wit me. We's gonna judge you fo' Ange-hood. Wassyer
name?"
Snape mentally curled his lips into a derisive sneer. He already hated
this travesty of a man, and the man had said less than twenty words to
him. Whoever owned the body he was in, at least.
This was getting confusing, he observed. For lack of a better idea, he
decided to call the body he was inhabiting, 'Lie'.
Lie tilted his head to the side. "I do not see how that matters."
Neko smiled wider, revealing jaggedly broken, urine-yellow teeth.
"Good! Likiies you!"
Freak, Severus thought unkindly.
"Right." Lie agreed. "If you say so."
A pout appeared on the left side of the Neko's face. "Awww... it has
no wit."
Severus watched as the room bounced as Lie nodded agreeably. Amazing.
this person was stupid enough to admit his (or her) inferiority to a
possible enemy.
He deliberately ignored the scent emanating from Neko's body.
Neko turned around and almost seemed to insinuate himself more than
anything else out into the hallway. Lie followed, inserting his hand
into the pocket of his short jacket, gripping the weapon there. The
left hand caressed the second portion of the weapon inside the pocket
of the khaki pants it wore.
It was a long time before anything else happened.
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
-------
The Leaky Cauldron, London. 1824, January 5.
Raye nodded at the motionless body of the greasy one, feeling the
probing touch of his mind as it investigated hers. She turned away,
aware of what was happening to him.
Absently she fingered the ring on her right hand. The metal was dull,
corroded, and mangled from age. The edges of the convex, centimeter-
wide band of metal dug into her skin, and not for the first time she
marveled at the fact that it still held the vague shape of a ring.
Tonks tapped her bare shoulder, calling her attention back from the
breif musing. "You all right?"
Raye blinked a few times, then, puzzled, tilted her head to the right.
"Have I given cause to not be?"
The Leaky Cauldron, London. 1826, January 5.
-------
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
Lie blinked awkwardly. "Um... what?" He asked, unconciously echoing
Snape's thoughts. Though, Severus considered, he was technically the
one echoing the memory. After all, he was the intruder.
Neko rolled his eyes. "Odin sev' meh. I aske' if yeh wante' ter be an
Ange er not."
Snape was equally confused and annoyed. This man-thing was becoming
vastly irritating, he refused to give a straight answer, he point-
blank denied any requests, and it was nearly painful for Severus to
look at him, as one who valued the perfection of his body so much.
"An Ange being what now?" Lie inquired.
The disfigured visage that was Neko managed to goggle. "Yeh dinnae
know whae we ar'?"
The world bobbed as Lie nodded agreeably. "That would be the logical
assumption." Privately Snape agreed, though he personally opined that
Lie would have been a Gryffindor had he gone to Hogwarts. He obviously
didn't have the subtlety of a Slytherin, nor the intellect of a Ravenclaw.
The mauled body dropped the affected accent, now speaking in crisp,
vaguely French, vaguely Russian English. "Why did they send me to get
this flesh-packet? Surely they would not have done this to anyone
else..."
The world bobbed again. "Obviously they hate you. Is it because of the
way you look? Maybe the way you speak, or perhaps your generally idiotic
mannerisms?"
The left side of Neko's mouth twisted angrily. "I can look however I
Forsaken well choose to! Because I do not affect a false perfection
they despise me? I am still one of the Sixteen!"
The world shuttered as Lie blinked, and Severus felt himself almost
sympathizing with the desecrated man.
Almost.
"That was interesting, Neko..." A silken voice echoed out from behind
Lie, and the world streaked past as the body whirled, while Severus
fought the urge to retch, though what a 'technicolor burp' would
consist of here was up for debate, as he was seized by a sensation of
motion sickness.
The woman he found there was certainly one of the more welcome sights
he had seen in quite a long time. Though he was firmly bound to the
old wizard, that didn't mean his eyes weren't allowed to wander.
Her hair was long enough that the ponytail it was drawn back into
could fall over her shoulder, and drape down the front of her body.
Her eyes, the color of molten steel, shone out from underneath thinly
sculpted eyebrows, the same platinum as her hair. Her vaguely-rounded
nose hovered over a pair of full vermillion lips, which were framed by
a smoothly sloping jaw, with a backdrop of skin so white it was almost
blue. Her clothing reflected light brightly, the mirrored surface
flowing like a river over her body, though the shirt hung blockily, as
if she was wearing some sort of body armor beneath it. Her fingers
tapered delicately, tipped with nails cropped short enough that
Severus was shocked that so close a cut could be managed. Around her
waist was tied a red jacket, and a suspicious bulge in one of the
pockets suggested to the disembodied -- or rather, wrongly embodied --
man that she was armed.
She stepped up to him, and for an instant Severus thought she had to
be at least seven feet tall, before he remembered that this was not
his body.
"Come on, Cais..." The one calling himself Neko pleaded. "You know
I like to play with the new arrivals."
This Cais woman, twitched an eyebrow at the man.
"Hurry up. We do not have that long to deal with this. The Two are
preparing to launch an assault on the Second. I have to agree with
them, seventeen is too many."
The world shuttered. "What?" Severus felt the rumble begin in the
throat of the body he was currently occupying.
"Assume your form already. You know we detest waiting."
Neko shrugged. "Nah. I will leave this one in your tender care. He is
beginning to irritate me. Besides, my aid is not needed for the
decision. Seventeen is too many."
"That is the general feeling. Well then, I shall be sure to inform
the rest of your opinion."
Severus raged inwardly at the dismissal. How dare they dismiss him! He
was a first-class wizard, a potions master no less! They had no right
to dismiss him!
Evidentally Lie felt otherwise, as he seemed to shrink into himself.
"Come small one. Unless this statement applies to you: Sterben, Sie,
das schmutzige Hosen haben!"
A bewildered Snape stared out of the body of an equally bewildered
host body. "What?"
"No then. Come along."
Lie obeyed unquestioningly. Once again Severus ignored the scent that
permeated the air around the woman.
Blood. And pain.
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
-------
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. 2040, January 5.
The groggy group of students stumbled around the room, some of them
more distracted by others by their Teacher's choice of attire. Raye
nodded in satisfaction as an idea occurred to her. An object lesson
it would be.
"This is pathetic. Eight forty and you are all tired already? You have
only been under my tender care for two-thirds of an hour!"
Then again, it did usually only take half an hour before they ran away
in fear. She was being lazy.
What the hell, she thought. They are going to knock me down some time
this month. After that she could get down to buisness, instead of this
playing. Tonks would appreciate the results of that.
A subconcious predatory instinct tilted Raye's head away from the
light, casting shadows over her face, letting her inverted eyes
glitter as the retinas reflected. That would be fun...
But, this first!
"Wilkes! Front and center!" She barked.
The boy stumbled forward, tripping over a fragment of desk. Raye had
refused to let the room be cleaned up, on the principle that hazards
made fighting more fun.
"Are you ready?" She inquired, delicately.
"Yes ma'am." He murmured softly. Raye smiled brightly, deciding that
the innocently clumsy show he was putting on was just that -- show. It
was a great technique, make your opponent underestimate you.
Raye shrugged. "Let's start then, shall we?"
Without futher ado, she rolled across the wooden splinters and metal
shards, avoiding the first curse that blasted a hole in the desk she
had appropriated for her seat. She unleashed a barrage of profanity
at the destruction of her desk, and turned toward the boy, a rather
irritated look crossing her features.
Normally she would have let him off with a couple slaps. The desk,
however, demanded retribution.
So, she lunged, dropping her left shoulder to let a curse flash above
it, and then rolling forward to let a second evaporate against the
floor behind her. At some point during the roll she snatched up a
piece of wood, long, sharp, and stake-like, which she flung at the
still-cursing boy. He tried to dodge it, and he nearly did.
Unfortunately for him, she had been aiming for his heart, so his step
to his left took him into the path of the flying projectile, rather
than away from it. Equally fortunately for him, he was left-handed, so
he wouldn't be totally incapacitated, unlike some of his fellows who
had taken injuries to their primary arm.
The splintry pieice of wood stabbed deep into his right shoulder, and
he looked at it curiously for a moment, at the blood falling from it
to streak down his arm and side, and then shrugged as best he was able
with but one arm.
His wand came up again, and instead of a curse, he mumbled, "Incendio,"
blandly. The spell caught the desk next to Raye, lighting it on fire.
Against some people this might have been a good thing. Against Raye,
however, it was a Really Bad Idea, something so ominously bad it did
deserve capitals.
Raye grinned gratefully at him, and ripped a staff off the burning
desk, making sure it was well lit. Then, bobbing and weaving to avoid
the curses being flung at her, she began to advance.
Though it took her several minutes, she got close enough, and swung
the flaming length of pinewood into the side of the child's head,
shattering the staff into a spray of conflagration, setting the
younger man's clothes on fire.
She saw the light flare in his eyes an instant before he stood back
up and rammed his fist into her face with the approximate force of a
jackhammer on concrete. The effects, however, were far different. He
had, unfortunately, shattered his thumb from the poorly-made fist,
broken all four of his knuckles, and fractured his wrist.
Raye looked curiously at the hand partially embedded in her face,
before reaching up and grabbing it. She wrenched, hard, and finished
breaking the numerous bones in his wrist, before slamming him to the
floor in a disused heap.
She knelt cautiously, pressing a pair of fingers to his throat to
check for a pulse. There was none.
Which was unusual, considering the rise and fall of his chest, and the
blood pouring freely from his shoulder.
Freely?
She checked again. Yes, freely. A river, not a geyser. Whatever this
thing was, it had no heartbeat. Ergo, it had no pulse. Ergo, it was
not human.
"Fetch someone," she ordered, more curious as to what the thing lying
at her feet was than worried about its safety.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. 2059, January 5.
-------
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
The world turned slowly as Lie looked around the room, dragging Snape's
vision along with his own. Severus cursed his host to the depths of
hell and back, demanding of Om that he strike this person down with
holy thunderbolts and cast his ashes to the northern winds.
Om, of course, paid no heed to the desperate plea. He had better
things to do. And more pertinent ones, concerning the buxom blonde
that was on his lap at the moment.
Of which Severus knew nothing, and therefore kept his string of
damnings up.
"Well?" Echoed a voice Snape didn't remember the name of.
Lie nodded. "Sure. Why not?"
There was no murmur of assent, but there was no murmur of dissent
either, so Severus figured it balanced out in the end. Or would have,
had he been caring about such things at the moment.
Instead, he was more concerned with his roaring headache, a gift from
the God of Hangovers. Words could not have described how happy that
particular diety had been to discover there was someone he could shunt
his pain off to.
Cais stepped forward. "I will do it. Last one just died on me, so
we have need of a new pupil."
And with that, Lie's fate was sealed.
UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!UNKNOWN!
Kitten Rebecca--Give the lady a cookie. Harry even calls himself Raye,
as seen when he slaughters all the MoM dudes.
A reviewer--You must die in some torturous way.
Relle--Happy birthday!...? Snape is going to be unhappy, suffice to
say. And now that you're seventeen, you should go buy Battle Royale.
yes, I'm plugging that everywhere I can, 'cos it deserves it. Have to
import it though.
annoying reviewer--Look, it's a simple concept for anyone with half a
brain to grasp. You don't tell me what to do. Stifle you, Sterben Sie.
And if you're going to try and tell me what to do, learn about a
little thing we like to call "puncutation".
mistik-elf13--A-ha! I see. Tacking. Coolness. Snape'll come out... in
one way or another. And no, Snape don't connect it.
Eihwaz and Lourdaise--Oh, dear god have mercy! E-z-listening music!
Spare us!
Final notes: I've added something to the Warning. Threesome warning,
to be exact. Yeah. Not only is it homosexual, it's threesome
homosexual. Which makes me wonder: the bible says nothing about
polygamy, so why do religious enthusiasts think it's wrong?