Summary: Harry fuses with the Haunter of the Dark and is raised by the wizard who rescues him. (Wizard as in HP Lovecraft wizard, that is!)
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Pre-fic Comments:
All latin can be considered 'doggy latin', in that I don't know Latin and am trying to fake it.
Some adult language in this. Having a good knowledge of canon proceedings would be a good idea, as I skip a bit of detail later on.
For reference (yours and mine), Ma Baker has four sons. From eldest to youngest: Robert, Bill, Ash, and Tim.
(Okay, for a nifty quote here, imagine that you can hear Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake Op 20" here, as played by the Munich Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Henry Adolf. It seriously rocks.)
After Transfiguration, the three boys had Herbology.
They looked forwards to this about as much as you would look forward to weeding flower beds.
It was about as interesting, apart from a brief moment of excitement when a man-sized Venus Fly Trap had a go at eating Vincent Crabbe.
"Harry, shouldn't you be out helping your friends weed the garden beds?," Professor Sprout asked him, gesturing towards where Crabbe and Goyle were pulling up daisies under Malfoy's watchful eye.
"I sunburn easily," Harry said. "Forgot my hat."
"Oh, really? Well, as long as you bring it next time," Professor Sprout tutted. She turned to Tim and Satanus. "Now, two energetic little boys don't want to sit around on a sunny day like today! Go on, go help your friends out there."
Draco Malfoy looked extremely put out that he had not thought of the sunburn excuse, as he also had exceedingly pale skin.
Dinner found a grumpy Tim and a snappish Satanus sitting next to a slightly sleepy Harry.
"I can't believe you cut out of Herbology like that," Draco hissed at him.
"What? It's true, he does burn easily," Tim said, reaching past Harry to grab the plate of baked potatoes. "Want one?"
Malfoy gave the metal tray of piping hot potatoes a horrified glance before reaching for the potato salad.
"Satanus, I asked Uncle Harris about your gear," Harry mentioned.
Satanus brightened up immediately. "Yeah?"
"First, he has to set up a quiescent zone," Harry explained. "You know, to minimize magical interference."
"Makes sense," Satanus nodded. "Go on."
"Then, he outlines power gathering and conversion circles to supply electricity," Harry continued.
The computer hacker smiled dreamily. "Ah, beautiful music... what shall we christen the dorms with?"
"Iron Maiden!," Tim immediately said.
"Broken, by Nine Inch Nails!," Harry argued.
"Guess what, you're both wrong," Satanus said smugly. "The True Human Design, by Meshuggah."
"Wonderful," Pansy Parkinson moaned. "Muggle music. I despise orchestras."
Orchestras?, the three boys asked each other wordlessly, looking at each other.
"Aren't you gonna be surprised," Satanus smirked.
"I need an excuse for Herbology," Tim complained. "I hate plants. I live in the city, not the Forbidden Forest."
"We now know what to give you for detention, Mister Baker," a voice said from behind him.
The three turned, to find the man dressed like a very respectable (if enraged and mildly depressed) crow. Professor Snape. Wonderful.
"Oh, you can make me weed gardens, but please don't make me wash floors," Tim begged. "I hate getting wet and dirty like that."
"I shall remember that," Snape said, sweeping past them on the way to the door.
Harry stared after him as he got up, having finished his tea. "I can't believe that."
"What?," Satanus asked as he followed. "That he's that petty, or that he fell for that?"
"Both," Harry said, shaking his head. "They sure have some asshole teachers."
Uncle Harris stretched as he got down from his step ladder. He had had to paint eight runes in the room (both the top and the bottom of each of the four corners), and had assigned Harry to paint the power collecting and conversion circles.
"Done yet, Harry?," Albert Harris LaVelle asked his adopted son.
"Just... now," Harry said. "I taped up a spare powercord to induce power in, so you just have to connect your appliances up to that, Satanus."
"Brilliant!," Satanus beamed. He connected his power strip to the extension cord taped to the wall, then turned on his stereo and CD player. "Power... on!"
"Are you sure we can't have Iron Maiden first?," Tim asked plaintively.
Satanus shook his head, putting a CD in. "No. I want my Swedish death metal first."
Harry turned up the volume on the amplifier, as Satanus skipped the first couple tracks, then hit pause.
"Loudness turned on, Harry?"
"Yeah."
"Bass cranked up?"
"Yep."
"Ears prepared?"
"Absolutely."
Satanus unpaused the CD player.
"Future Breed Machine (Mayhem Version)", Meshuggah, The True Human Design
Severus Snape snapped to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor behind him.
What in God Almighty's name was that sound?!
Beneath the drum beats...
Beneath the wailing, distorted guitars (Lily had introduced him to Led Zeppelin and Iron Maiden -- he suspected that those /were/ guitars) was a screaming voice.
Severus knew all about screaming voices.
That didn't mean he'd tolerate people who /caused/ screaming voices, though.
Dumbledore smiled as the music roared around him, having tied into the wards of Hogwarts due to the mystical energy empowering the stereo system.
This should prove most amusing and interesting. He'd probably better wander down, just to make sure that Severus didn't give the boys too many detentions.
Post-fic Comments:
I know, the chronology of album release dates and HP canon is terribly out of whack. Imagine, therefore, that Harry was born in 1990 or something. I dunno.
AlanP'sMusicRant:
"Future Breed Machine (Mayhem Version)" has been described as the hardest song that Meshuggah have done. Considering what they've released on albums like Chaosphere, this is saying quite a bit. I highly recommend all music they've released, although if you don't like Metallica, Slayer, Rammstein, things of that vein, you'll loathe Meshuggah. They do extremely good metal, very technical, where the various instruments play in different time signatures at times, meaning that the riffs are moving at different rates and all kinds of really good things.