Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

"I don't won't to kill you and you don't want to be dead." Danny Glover, Silverado

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Potter

Chapter Nine: Day of the Dead

By: Water Mage

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A man stood outside the residence of the McKnights. Tall, bricked walls boarded the whole property of the McKnight Estate. Guards, clothed in all black, stood at their posts, keeping an ever-watchful eye on the area. One elderly man stood in the middle of the street in plain eyesight. He didn't have to worry about if they, the guards, could see him. A simple spell took care of that. As long as he wanted to remain unnoticed he would be invisible to their watching eyes. A really difficult spell. Some would say dark magic, but this was a desperate time for all of them. Taboo spells were not so taboo at the moment. The wind blew ruffling the scarlet robes he wore. His matching hat trimmed in white almost blew off but he quickly held it down. A small pop was heard from beside him. He didn't even turn around. He knew who was behind him.

"Did you get the information, Professor?" he asked the tall witch beside him.

She nodded, keeping her eyes trained on the property before them. Minerva McGonagall too was clothed in scarlet robes like her mentor, Albus Dumbledore. A crest of a phoenix in flight, right above the heart, adorned the robe. Her long black hair was free from its usual bun. It hung down her back in soft waves. The effect made her look ten years younger. She rubbed her hands together, the friction giving her chilled body a marginal amount of heat.

McGonagall turned to Dumbledore. "The Order has already questioned the Dursley's. The wife knows nothing, but Vernon Dursley… it seems he willingly gave away, Harry. You know that Veritiserum destroys a muggles liver, so using the truth potion is an unavailable method. We have to go on his word."

"What about this Killian McKnight? Do we have information on him?" asked Dumbledore.

McGonagall pulled out a folder, seemingly from nowhere. It appeared simply by slide of hand. Magic. "From what the Order has gathered, Killian McKnight is a widow. Wife and son died a little over a year ago in a car accident. He's twenty-six years old and runs a law firm in London. He's a complete null. No trace of magic has appeared in his bloodline for generations."

Dumbledore was quiet as she rattled out facts about this man's life. With a practiced gesture he pushed his half moon spectacles higher on his nose. "What about criminal record?"

McGonagall turned a page, her eyes scanning down the page quickly. "The man hasn't had so much as a parking ticket before. His record is clean." She looked up hair falling into her face before she hurriedly brushed it away, tucking it behind her ear. "Sir, I know that this McKnight fellow sounds ideal, but we can't leave him here. All of the Deatheaters haven't been arrested. The boy is still in danger!"

"I know that Professor, calm yourself," replied Dumbledore placidity. He gently grabbed her hand and held it up to the air. A soft crackle was heard all around them. It sounded almost like electricity being funneled through a conductor. With a gasp, McGonagall snatched her hand back.

"What in heavens!" McGonagall murmured, rubbing her stinging hand. "Albus, what is that?"

Dumbledore stroked his full, waist length white beard. "That my dear Professor is what I have been contemplating for the last few hours. From what I have gathered it seems to be some kind of magic based force, that repels anyone with magic. It goes around the whole compound."

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Even Hogwarts doesn't have such a powerful defense and it was made by the Four Founders."

"I was quite astounded myself. I tried to apparate into the house itself to take Harry, but I was repelled by this… force. I tried to walk onto the grounds but the force again blocked me. The effect was quiet nasty." He rolled up his sleeves to show his arms. McGonagall gasped at the deep cuts going down his arm. It looked like Professor Dumbeldore had gotten involved in a knife fight… and lost.

"Oh my," McGonagall exclaimed, holding a hand to her mouth.

Dumbledore nodded. "Oh my, indeed. Whatever surrounds this compound is a force so powerful that even my magic is useless against it. I have never seen anything like it before."

Professor McGonagall sighed, her mouth settling into a frown. "So does this mean that we have to leave young Harry here. With this stranger? Surely we can get past this force!"

The elderly headmaster shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. There is no way; I can say this for sure. Don't you see Professor that the magic that is keeping us out, is simply a protective measure? Whatever this is, it is protecting Harry. So in reality it is the safest place for him. I don't know what this force is but I will continue to study it further. It is most unusual."

"I don't like this, Albus. Just remember that this was your idea," she replied bitterly. With a snap of her finger she disapparated away.

Professor Dumbledore looked at the grounds of the McKnight mansion one more time before he too disapparated. The spell that hung in the air broke with a snap as soon as he disappeared. The guards went on full alert as the echoing pop of his apparation reached their ears. Nothing jumped out from the shadows, no explosions were heard, only silence. They relaxed going back on low alert, the echoing sound now erased from their minds…

Harry entered Professor Dumbledore's office after knocking briefly. The room looked exactly as it had when he visited it almost two months before on the first day of school. Harry raised an eyebrow as he gazed about. Although furniture and such was the same, a new décor was in the room. Carved pumpkins with their glowing faces stood in various spots around the room. Today was Halloween but Harry never would have thought the Headmaster would personally decorate his office. Dumbledore looked up from the book he was reading at his desk, as Harry entered the room. He offered the boy a smile, closing the book as Harry took a seat in front of the desk.

"Hello, Harry. Thank you for joining me here," smiled Dumbledore.

Harry smiled back. It was one of those polite mirrored smiles. When someone smiles at you, one can't help but to smile back. Its something that just happens. Harry had perfected this particular smile a long time ago, during numerous dinners and balls held by his father with the rest of the crime community. It was bright but lacking in warmth. Professional, yet not friendly. Perfect.

"What is this about, Professor?" asked Harry shortly, harsher than he intended. He paused, clearing his throat, then continued with a more polite tone. Or as polite as he could be at this time of morning. He wasn't to big on waking up early nowadays. "Your note said you had something to talk to me about."

Dumbledore nodded, his half moon spectacles slipping down his nose slightly with the action. "I just wanted to talk. Ask you a few questions. Are fine with this?"

Harry shrugged, nonchalant. "I'm okay. What type of questions?"

"I want to ask you, how is everything at home?" asked Dumbledore, looking for the entire world like a psychiatrist. All he needed was a large legal pad and an expensive pen and he would have the look down.

Harry just stared him. He was completely thrown off by the question. "Everything is fine. Why do you want to know?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, as you know I once knew your mother. When your parents were killed, I did my best to decide where the best and safest place for you was…"

Harry frowned, as he mentally reviewed what the Headmaster just told him. No matter how he thought about it. It didn't sound right. "Why would that decision be up to you? You might have knew them but I know according to the law, the next of kin should make decisions like that."

Dumbledore took Harry's comments in stride, neither appearing angry nor sad, merely impassive. "I was someone they regarded as being highly wise, so I made the decision of sending you to Lily's sister. However, I didn't know that the woman would give you up for adoption so quickly."

"Your point is what? You think you're my social worker or something because you knew my parents," snapped Harry. "My father has always been there for me. He's the best father in the whole world."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry, I'm sorry if I mislead you, but I am not trying to call your father's parenting skills into question. I was just wondering if your life has been going well. I feel a sense of responsibility for you because I was the one who made the decision to send you to your aunt's house. I never dreamed she would give you up for adoption."

"She did and what's past is past," replied Harry. "Professor Dumbledore, can I go now? I'm already late for Charms."

Professor Dumbledore nodded slowly and silent sigh slipping from his lips. He looked saddened and tired all at once at that one moment. "Yes, Harry, you may go."

Without even a backward glance, Harry marched from the office. He shouldered his knapsack as he walked down the deserted corridor. In the distance he could hear Peeves cackling like a banshee, probably excited over successfully pulling off another childish prank. Harry looked perfectly calm on the outside. Only by staring into his eyes, which seemed to bleed into a dark emerald green, one could tell Harry was pissed off. Internally, Harry was fuming over the Headmaster's actions. Did the old man think he was his guardian or something? The audacity of Dumbledore really got to him. If he was so concerned for him, why didn't Dumbledore show up when he was younger? Who waits eleven years to check up on someone they supposedly care about? No one. So that meant Dumbledore either couldn't get to him, whom he doubted, or the old man was lying to him. The latter wouldn't surprise Harry one bit. Dumbledore was lying to the rest of the wizarding realm about his background. Over time lying could eventually become second nature.

"Hey, watch out!"

Harry looked up, stopping in his tracks. So deep in his internal thinking, Harry didn't even notice he bumped into someone until they fell onto the ground with a shout. Harry looked apologetically at the person he knocked over. Draco's blonde hair had fallen into disarray, falling across his forehead like a curtain. Glaring at him, Draco helped himself up ignoring Harry's outstretched hand.

"Sorry about that, Draco. I wasn't looking where I was going," Harry apologized.

Draco smoothed his hair back with one hand. A practiced gesture turned habit. "What has you up in arms about anyway?"

Harry fixed his face, erasing what emotion showed. People were never good at reading him for a reason and he wanted to keep it that way. Having someone tell him what he was feeling was unnerving. His mask was always perfect or as perfect as he could make it, while under pressure. Without even a thought, Harry flashed his fake smile at Draco.

"Nothing's wrong with me, Draco. I was just thinking about how late I was for class," he lied smoothly.

Draco nodded, forgetting his earlier analysis of Harry. "Oh. Professor Snape has me running an errand for him. I suppose its better than sitting over a steaming cauldron."

"How's practice going?" asked Harry.

Draco smiled. It was one of his typical Colgate smiles that was so bright that Harry felt the need to reach for sunglasses. If they were in the muggleworld Harry would bet his life that Draco would be hounded by modeling agencies. "It's going great so far. I still can't believe that I made Seeker instead of getting expelled."

"It's been almost two months. I think its time to start believing," replied Harry. "You deserve to be Seeker. Your really, really good. Somebody said that you're the best Seeker Hogwarts has seen in a hundred years."

Draco's cheeks tinged pink, but it wasn't a full on blush. Only two barely noticeable pink dots marred his cheeks. Draco was a Malfoy through and through. No way would he let himself to be embarrassed in front of another person. He reigned in his blush, adopting his usual superior look that was oh so famous among the Malfoy's. Harry glanced down at his watch and swore softly.

"Listen Draco, its been nice, but I have to get to Charms," said Harry quickly, sprinting away. He barely heard a goodbye from Draco; he was gone around the corner so fast. Harry's hair trailed behind him like a long, silky, black streamer. His breath came in short pants as he skidded to a halt outside the Charms classroom almost ten minutes later.

"Good of you to join us Mister Potter-McKnight," said Professor Flitwick, noticing Harry slink into the room.

Harry rolled his eyes. He always hated when teachers tried to embarrass students like that. Professor Flitwick marked Harry tardy on his roll sheet as Harry moved to sit by Kevin and Terry. They gave him questioning looks but Harry mouthed 'tell you later'. The Charms classroom was set up in a large room with the students sitting in tables bordering the walls, leaving the middle of the room free with space. Only thing in the middle was a podium with a set of steps leading up to it. Currently, Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was standing at the podium. He was short. Like smaller than even four feet. It was a school wide speculation that Professor Flitwick was probably descended from Dwarves, but nothing was factual on that particularly rumor. Personally, Harry thought that Flitwick's mother fucked a goblin, then nine months later…

"Now as I was saying," begin Flitwick in his small, squeaky voice. He gave Harry a long reproachful look. The boy in question merely crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. A classic 'fuck with me if you want to' look. Professor Flitwick got the message and after clearing his suddenly dry throat he continued. "We will begin to make objects fly today."

The Ravenclaws smiled excitedly at each other, while the Gryffindors, who they shared the class with, cheered like third graders on crack. Harry rolled his eyes, thinking 'Can we say Ritalin'. Sometimes, sometimes, Harry thought the Gryffindors had A.D.D. Riley, even though she was a friend, didn't help disprove his theory. In fact she only encouraged it.

Terry snorted, sharing Harry's feelings. He leaned closer to Harry and Kevin and whispered, "Damn, can we say excited much?"

Professor Flitwick split them up into pairs. The Ravenclaws quickly complied. Flitwick was after all their Head of House. It was nice to argue with someone who could make your life a living hell, if you couldn't help it. Only a few complaints came from the Gryffindors. Well, not really Gryffindors, plural. More like Ron Weasley. The boy began to vehemently decline being partners with Hermione Granger. Professor Flitckwitck was having none of that. He used a spell to glue Ron to his seat then had Hermione, to her amusement, sit down next to him. The redhead glowered, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Terry and Kevin became partners and Harry's partner happened to be Seamus Finnigan, a Gryffindor. The blond Irish boy was a bundle of excitement. Harry could swear the boy was littering bouncing in his seat. And they hadn't even learned the spell yet. Once everyone was seated and partnered up, Flitwick returned to his podium.

"Please, place your wands on the tables in front of you. I feel that you are now advanced enough to attempt this spell. We have been practicing correct pronunciations and wand movements for two months now. Remember that those two things are the keys to a successful spell. Remember swish and flick, boys and girls, swish and flick. You may begin."

Seamus' blond hair was long, longer than Harry's. It easily bet his length by four inches. When he bounced in his seat, his hair repeatedly fell into his face, blocking his eyes. "So you ready, mate?" he asked.

Harry nodded, picking up his wand. "You go first. I want to practice the wand movement first."

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Seamus shouted, pointing his wand at the feather they were supposed to levitate. Harry blinked. The feather hadn't even so much as twitched. Seamus mouth set in a grim frown. Quicker than Harry could follow, Seamus had his wand in the air and began to psychotically tap the feather, all the while muttering the incantation.

"What the hell are you doing, you fucking retard!" whispered Harry furiously. There was a burst of light and a flash then the feather bursts into flames.

Seamus yelped. "Oh saints preserve us!" he grabbed his hat and threw it onto the flames, smothering the fire.

Harry could only gape at the blond who was smiling at him sheepishly. "Seamus, are you completely mental?"

Seamus paused. "No, why?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

A constant throb behind his temples caused Harry to sigh. 'Just great. Now I have a fucking migraine.' Spearing Seamus an annoyed glance he picked up his wand, holding it just as Flitwick instructed. Calmly he took a breath then exhaled. Gathering his will he spoke the words of the incantation calmly and confidently.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

He barely registered a feminine voice speaking the incantation at the same time as he. Harry was in his own little world, as a well of triumph flooded through him. He smiled satisfied, watching as the single white feather defied gravity by hovering in mid air about four feet above their heads.

"My stars! Well done. Everyone look, Mister Potter and Miss Granger have done it. And at the same exact time, too," cried Professor Flitwick.

Harry turned his head, and met the deep blue eyes of Hermione Granger. The girl winked at Harry. Ron who was sitting next to her, stared at Hermione as if his vision could kill. Well, if it did she would have been six feet under by now. Harry could almost see storm clouds surround Ron's head. The redhead was beyond pissed. He was steaming. By the time the bell rang and they were walking down the corridor that opened into the corridor, Ron was even madder. Loudly, he began to tell all those walking near about his hatred of Hermione.

"She is such a bitch!" Ron yelled, loudly in fact, to all those within hearing range. "I'm amazed her parents put up with her. I would have literally smothered her in her sleep, if I were her dad."

Terry, Harry, and Kevin looked at each other as they walked down the corridor behind Ron. They had no choice but to hear Ron's loud tirade. Kevin raised his eyebrow. "Does he have a hardon for her or what?"

"Ewww, lets not give me mental images please," pleaded Terry.

Harry nodded, closing his eyes, wiping out the mental picture. "I agree wholeheartedly with that statement."

"Maybe she's going for Bitch of the Year award, that's why she has no friends!" laughed Ron.

Someone bumped past Harry, knocking over his book bag further down his shoulder. "Hey watch! --"

He barely managed to catch a glimpse of Hermione's tear streaked fast before she hurried past. Those in the hallway heard his shout and turned to see what the commotion was about. Ron and his friends, who happened to be his dormmates, stopped walking as they saw Hermione. Ron especially looked uncomfortable. Harry didn't know what made him do it, but he grabbed Hermione's hand, stopping her in her tracks. She struggled briefly but Harry gripped her hand tightly, not letting go. Harry sighed inwardly. He was always a sucker for crying girls. Damn those etiquette lessons. Harry faced Ron, who was still standing amongst his friends. Harry's friends, plus Hermione stood to side of him, wondering what he was playing at.

"Really Weasley it's a wonder YOU have any friends," said Harry icily. Ron flinched but Harry continued on. Now that he started, he finally realized that it was a little hard to stop. It had been a while since he had torn into anyone. "For your information, Hermione here does have friends. She has me."

"Us," said Terry and Kevin in unison. It seemed rehearsed but truly it was just a coincidence.

Harry smiled coldly. "Before you go around insulting anyone, get the facts straight, freckles. I mean really, what is with all the freckles on your body. I can fucking play connect the dots with them." Harry walked closer getting right into Ron's face. They were almost nose to nose. Whispering so only Ron could hear Harry put as much frost and ice into his voice as he could manage. "Now, if you ever talk about my friend again…" Harry smiled, enjoying the tremor that racked Ron's body. "I'll smother you in your sleep."

"Listen Potter, I--" Ron began.

Harry cut him off. "No you listen, Weasley." Ron's closed his eyes hiding the fear there. "Don't ever let my name or my friends' names leave your lips again. I promise you, every pain in your life will be cake if you talk about Hermione again."

Ron gathered what Gryffindor courage he had, and glared down at the shorter boy. "Potter, I could kill you before you even landed a hit on me."

Harry smirked, lifting the sleeves of his robes showing his knives. Harry detached himself from all emotions. Without even trying, Harry let himself go into that silent place. He went into his warrior mode. That place where he felt no fear, no anger, no guilt no emotions. He could kill someone without feeling the nagging sense of regret. This look meant death. Ron looked into Harry's eyes that seemed to bleed into a darker green. Really for the first time in his life, he knew pure fear. They say that the eyes are the windows into a person's soul. But Ron would tell anyone, that after staring into Harry's eyes… The boy had no soul.

"You could kill me… and you would feel nothing," gasped Ron, disbelief flowing through him. He said it so low that only he and Harry heard his words. In fact all those near them had cleared a space around them, surely thinking the two were about to come to blows. No one could see Harry's face but Ron.

Harry only blinked in response. It was true. Harry could kill Ron at this moment and not even lose a wink of sleep over it. On one hand he felt utterly disturbed by this and on the other he completely didn't give a flying fuck. And the latter worried Harry.

"I'm warning you Weasley, don't fuck with my friends. That is your last and only warning," whispered Harry softly.

Ron was still staring at Harry in fear. "You would really kill me." Looking into Harry's eyes, he saw the surety. "You bastard."

Harry stepped back and raised his voice, so that those watching could finally hear them. "Sticks and stones, freckles. Sticks and stones."

He walked back to his friends, and wordlessly they walked down the corridor, leaving the students who were watching to whisper loudly to one another. They were all smart enough not talk about the event within earshot of others. They exited the castle, walking down the grounds to the lake. The sun was high in the sky, throwing sunshine all around them. The lake glittered like a sheet of glass, making the scenery around them tranquil and serene.

"Sweet Avalon!" yelled Terry smiling. He rounded on Harry with wide eyes. "You really have a temper on you!"

Kevin nodded. "You're telling me. I was even a little scared and he wasn't even talking to me. By the way what were you two whispering? We couldn't hear you."

Harry ignored the question; instead he turned his attention to Hermione. "Are you okay? Weasley was really being a dick."

Hermione had stopped crying a long time ago. Only the tear tracks adorning her cheeks was a sign that she had been crying at all. She shrugged, turning to the lake. "Thanks for helping me Harry, but you all know Weasley is right about me. I don't try to get on anyone's nerves, but I just want to be the best. I was a complete flake at my last school. I hated reading, school, life… I thought that here I could change all of that by leaving my old reputation behind. I didn't want to be that dumb girl again. I wanted to be the one everyone looked to for answers. I wanted to be, that smart girl.

'Do we start playing violins,' wondered Harry thinking. The way she was talking, he could tell she was leaving a lot out. But she wasn't the only one with a hard life… secrets. Harry looked at her face and saw the sincerity and pain so fresh showing openly. Harry knew then that Hermione was one of them. She was one of those people he would truly call friend. A person who ranked up there on his list of protection. A person he would kill for if need be.

The Great Hall was decorated with so many Halloween decorations that Harry thought his brain was about to explode from the overload. Giant carved pumpkins sat in the corners of the room, their scary faces glowing from the lit candles held inside. Students kept jumping at their classmates scaring the ever-loving shit out of each other. Almost everyone had on some type of face paint. Some of the older kids had on masks or wore creepy gloves with fake knives attached to it. Harry didn't know what was the deal with that. A typical 31st of October. It was Halloween what the hell did one expect of the magical realm.

"Rahhhhhhh!" yelled Michael Corner, from the down the table. Padma Patil screamed like a redhead stepchild, staring at Michael's covered face with fright. She regained control of herself to openly glare at all those who were laughing at her.

Harry shook his head, the smile on his face never leaving. That was just too funny. The food tonight was amazing. Hogwarts had gone all out with preparing the feast before them. It was better than the first of term banquet by far. Simply because this time there was no one staring at Harry, as if he was some butt scratching monkey at the zoo. Harry helped himself to a roasted lamb. Just as he raised it to his mouth the doors of the Great Hall banged open. Professor Quirrell ran in. His turban was askew and his face was filled with terror. Harry narrowed his eyes as the Professor ran to the Head Table to Dumbledore.

"What is he up to?" muttered Harry quietly. In two months he still had yet to trust the Professor.

Everyone watched as Quirrell sank to his knees before Dumbledore. The Headmaster rose from his chair waiting. Quirrell was panting so hard it was a miracle he hadn't had a panic attack. "There is a troll in the dungeons," he said weakly. "I just thought that little note was worthy of notice."

He collapsed backward, fainting away onto the stone floor.

Everyone looked at each other… and screamed.

Harry was one of the many who was staring around with a 'what the fuck' expression. He knew what a troll was, but really its not like the school was about to blow up. Professor Dumbledore raised his wand shooting off green and red sparks into the air. Silence accompanied the action. A pin dropping could probably be heard it was so silent.

"Prefects," ordered Dumbledore, his voice carrying across the hall. "Lead your Houses to the dormitories now. Head Boy and Head Girl, you are with the staff!'

That was all they needed before they were off. They passed other groups of people running in different directions. As they walked past a crowd of confused Slytherins, who were heading down the stairs, a Prefect suddenly ran up to them, getting Wesley's attention.

"What is it, Artemis?" asked Wesley, the Ravenclaw prefect.

The other prefect, was a blond girl. Her shiny prefects badge gleamed in the torchlight. "Professor Sprout is up ahead. She's facing off against the troll but its really pissed and madder than hell."

Suddenly, Padma Patil and Su Li began screaming bloody murder, pointing toward the shadowed corridor. A sound of something crashing reached Harry's ears. He looked up into the corridor ahead of them, seeing what the girls were pointing at.

"Well fuck me," he whispered.

Coming toward them was the ugliest thing he had ever seen in his life. The troll walked like a man but looked nothing like one. It was twelve feet tall, its skin was an ugly gray color. Never had he seen a creature with a hulking body such as it. Its body was that of a wrestler or even a bodybuilder but on supped up supersteroids. Held in its grip was a huge wooden club. It stopped before the trembling students, staring at them with searching black eyes. It roared loudly and rushed them, club raised into the air.

They screamed loudly scattering in different directions. In a 'comic or movie' people always huddle together when there is a dangerous situation. In real life things are a bit different. If one person runs. Hell, everybody is running. Every man for themselves. It may not sound ideal or brave. But dammit it's the human thing. Survival of the quickest.

"Stupefy!" shouted Wesley, shooting the spell at the troll.

A jet of black light raced through the air, hitting the troll square in the chest. It staggered before regaining footing. A howl of anger left its mouth and it charged again, quicker this time. Wesley edged backward. He tripped and fell onto his back. Terror filled his heart as he scuttled backwards, getting out of the creature's eyesight. Michael Corner seemed stuck with fear. He stood stone still in the middle of the corridor staring sightlessly at the creature. Harry hid behind a suit of armor watching with bated breath. He looked down at the ground not wanting to see the conclusion as the troll raced toward Michael, swinging back his club.

There was a shout and Harry looked up to see Professor Sprout, push Michael out of the way. The boy fell to ground, skidding feet away. The club arched through the air faster than they could blink. The sound of wood beating into Sprouts skull with a sickening crunch was something that would never leave their thoughts. Blood sprayed everywhere like a wild geyser. The sticky red fluid splattered against the walls covering the floor. The troll roared in satisfaction and proceeded to repeatedly beat her head in with the club.

"Diablito!"

There was a sound like a shotgun and the troll fell over onto his back with an echoing thud. Its body lay in one place and its head was in another. Its severed head landed in Professor Sprout's fresh puddle of blood. Its face was slack with death. The students peeked out from their hiding places. Professor Snape stood in the corridor, wand outstretched and face paler than normal. Harry stepped forward, his gaze not seeing anything about Professor Sprout lying dead on the stone floor. Her lifeless mud colored eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Her hair was matted around the wound, drenching her locks in blood. Pieces of flesh and bits of brain stuck to the floor. It was like looking at a painting. Your mind saw the image but it refused to put it together, as if trying to protect itself. Harry stared and finally it clicked.

He could smell the blood.

It was everywhere. The walls. The floor, everywhere. There was so much of it. It clung to his shoes actually getting inside the soles. Harry heard a squishing sound and looked down. A piece of torn flesh clung to his shoe. Harry yelped, stumbling backward. His feet tripped over something hard and he fell. He landed on his ass blood splattering upwards. It soaked through his robes going through his pants. His hands were covered in the cool blood. He stared down at his bloody hands and groaned. Harry scrambled to his knees suddenly feeling light headed and nauseous. He half scurried, half-crawled away from the blood, then bent low to the ground and threw up.

All of the meals he had eaten today came to visit him. His mind was a haze. His head felt light and dizzy. Through his disorder he could hear the sound of others retching, throwing up their meals. Harry vomited till there nothing left in his stomach. He looked around and could see his friends in other similar states. The girls were in tears. Shouting could be heard as the Professors tried to no avail to calm the students down. Lisa Turpin couldn't keep it in any longer. A blood-curdling scream built in her throat then erupted forth. Harry didn't blame her. If his throat weren't sore from vomiting he would have joined her. Harry closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of the red ruin that was Professor Sprout's head.

'Day of the Dead, alright. Happy fucking Halloween.'

Well wasn't that just the squeakiest thing… All of you thought a student was going to die. I never said it was a student, merely a cannon character. Kinda wanted Snape to die, but I have plans for the greasy one. I want the next chapter to have some action in it. Like real action. More death, some shooting, magic, some forbidden forest journeying.

I know Harry's reaction may have seen odd given his background. But you still have to think about the fact that he just saw his teacher get her brains bashed in. Then add to the fact he just fell in a pull of her blood. A little traumatic don't you think. Even homocide detectives throw up after seeing a crime scene even after years of witnessing them.