Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.
Author's Note: This note contains just some back-up info on the fic's setting and time period. This is in Harry's 5th year. The Order of the Phoenix is not introduced into this story yet. Harry is staying at the Dursleys'. Hermione is on vacation in Amsterdam. Ron is at his
Great-aunt's in Diagon Alley. Voldemort is in hiding and his activities are very quiet. Any word in italics is Parseltongue.
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Harry Potter: Death Dealer vs. Lycan
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Prologue
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Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore looked up from a set of application papers to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. An immensely beautiful bird, with beautifully coloured plumage coloured a delicate mix of yellow, orange and red, was preening itself. The Headmaster smiled, thinking about this very scene in which he was sitting. He was asking himself how everything looks so normal when, in reality, the wizarding world was in turmoil and his own mind was probably thinking about a dozen different ways to suck a lollipop, an invention by Muggles with which he was pleased. The word also happened to be the password to his office. But of course, only a few people knew that.
Something else which was on his mind was a certain black haired bespectacled boy with a lightning bolt-like scar on his forehead.
Dumbledore sighed. I wonder what that boy will have to do with this war, he thought. It was not the first, nor was it the last time that he thought about this.
The Headmaster returned to his work, feeling thankful for the solitude, as it helped him with his thinking. Fawkes, as was the name of the bird, a phoenix, crooned.
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In stark contrast to this last scene, a tall and pale man leaned in a chair. His surroundings were grotesque. Blood covered the walls and most of the ground. The house he was in was almost a ruin. There was a murmur around the house, but that did not matter, thought the man. There were no other humans within a hundred miles of this place. The area was filled with dense forest, and the house was situated in a clearing.
The man snorted, displeasured. Wormtail had to be commended, if only slightly, for picking this rather rundown house for the base of the most evil and powerful dark magic present in the wizarding world at
present.
At that moment, a huge snake crawled into the room, hissing softly. The man looked around and saw the scaly reptile. But, instead of leaping up in terror, he simply smiled, and strangely, hissed himself. This would have been deemed strange by most normal people, but, this man was definitely not normal. His nostrils were slits, his skin was unnaturally pale, and his eyes were red and shone with an eerie brightness. No, he was Lord Voldemort, and that meant he was not normal, not even to the slightest degree.
"Ah, Nagini, my faithful pet. I hoped you would come. I long for sssome intelligent conversssation. These foolsss who call themselvessss my sssservantssss should firsst have learned a lesson in Communicative English before joining my rankssss. I do not know why I dessisst from punishing them." spat Voldemort.
"I agree, Massster. They are asss gracceful as wild elephants. A few of them have very nearly ssstepped on me, and those who have, have recccieved bruisessss to remember." hissed the snake, coiling itself lovingly around the Dark Lord's bony hand.
Then Lord Voldemort laughed, a terrible thing to hear. He laughed long and heartily at this little, witticism, from his beloved pet. Not many were able to have this effect on the Dark Lord. Most just crawled and grovelled in front of him. Otherwise, they screamed for mercy, or screamed in pain.
Then he stopped, and set his mind to work on his latest scheme. This time, he mused, Harry Potter might just fall into the trap...
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"Ouch!" yelled Ronald Weasley as a small creature with a long nose and sharp claws jumped up and scratched his nose, before kicking him soundly in his shin and running off.
Ron moaned disgustedly as sickly green pus started to come out from his red nose, contrasting with his freckles and fiery red hair.
I hate gnomes, he thought angrily. Ron couldn't believe what had happened this summer. His dad had won a lottery for three tickets to Italy, and just when he thought he was going to have a vacation, he was unceremoniously told that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were not taking him, but instead, his little sister Ginny was accompanying them. Percy was in the Ministry, Bill was in Egypt trying to work out a transfer to Gringotts, Charlie was in Romania working on dragons, and Fred and George opted to stay and try working out their plans for a joke shop. And that left him, Ron. So he was taken to his Great-Auntie Muriel. Besides, it so turned out that Muriel had a problem with garden gnomes, doxys, and an old goblin that lived above Ron's room in Muriel's apartment. The goblin had worked in Gringotts, and he talked in his sleep, as well as hitting the floor with a thick iron rod at night, screaming, "And that will teach you to rob from Gringotts! Here, take this! And that!" He also laughed creepily just when Ron was feeling drowsy, waking him up with a jolt.
Ron sighed dejectedly, wiping pus from his black and blue nose with a tissue. He went up to his room to wash his nose. This cut seemed to be on of the bad ones. He picked up a piece of parchment from his table and thought about writing a long-winded narrative about a terrible vacation to his best friends. He decided against it, and instead tore the parchment in half. On one half he wrote,
Dear Harry,
Vacation sucks. Hope the Muggles treat you well. I tried calling from my great-aunt's felly-tone, but a weird kind of buzzing comes from your end. Muggle inventions are dumb. Just look at the rubber ducky and the teddy bear. Anyway, I just thought I'd write a line, you know. I am weighed down by chores. I'll explain on the train back to school.
Write back. I'm tired of just sitting here and doing work like a bloody house elf.
Ron.
P.S: Don't tell the last bit to Hermione. She'll murder me.
Ron surveyed his work, and then turned to the other parchment.
Dear Hermione,
My vacation sucks. Been a bit since your last owl. So I thought that I would write a line or two. Harry told me you went to Hamsterdorm or something. He told me that you can't send owls because of the 'Muggle proximity'. I can't wait to go back to Hogwarts. September the First, come faster. I'll send this with Pig now, since Mom and Dad took Errol with them to Italy. Wish I could have gone.
Ron.
"Oy, Pig! Get over here!" shouted Ron. Almost immediately, a small blur rocketed towards him from the rafters of his room, knocking Ron off his chair. He landed hard on the wooden floor, bumping his head against the wall. Ron swore aloud, and then picked up the small blur, that turned out to be an owl. It had screeched to a stop just beside him on the floor. Ron got up, dusting himself off. He went to his desk and fetched the two pieces of rolled up parchment, one with 'Harry' on it and the other with 'Hermione'. Then he shook Pigwidgeon for good measure. "You will give these to Harry and Hermione, and then you will come right back! If it's at midnight that you come back, don't wake me up for an Owl Treat. If it's early morning, don't wake me up. Don't bother Hedwig at Harry's or she'll give you an even worse scratching than the last time. Okay?" said Ron, carefully intoning the words. He had to tend to a bloody Pigwidgeon for nearly a week after he had knocked Hedwig off her perch to drink some water. Whatever happened, Ron certainly did not want another chore to add to his pile. He sighed exasperatedly, and let Pig go. He nipped him hard on his ear, then rocketed out of the window. Ron rubbed his ear, then went to the living to take care of a rather nasty Doxy.
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Harry Potter is known to every wizard and squib as the 'Boy who Lived'. But, seeing him now would spoil that name.
Harry Potter lay prostrate on his bed in a small room in the house of his Aunt Petunia Dursley and his Uncle Vernon Dursley. His mouth was open and there was a tiny amount of saliva near the right side of his lower lip. His spectacles were askew. His T-shirt was far too large for his skinny frame. So were his trousers, which could have been an elephant's underwear. In other words, they were hand-me-down clothing, worn by his humungous cousin Dudley Dursley, who loved to remind him of that fact. But, his beauty sleep was short lived.
The small blur that we now know to be Ron's owl Pigwidgeon burst in through the window and landed on Harry's face. Harry woke up with a yell, muttering something that sounded oddly like, "Don't kill me Darth Vader! I already have a bad guy after me!"
"Oh not again!" moaned Harry, yawning. "Pig, I hate you...officially."
The small hyper active owl just whizzed around Harry's room until Harry caught its legs. That was no problem for Harry, as he was an avid follower and player of the wizard sport Quidditch, which involved three tall hoops on either side of what looked like a football ground, two black balls that would love to beat the hell out of you, a large red ball like a basketball that has to be put through the hoops for ten points, and the most troublesome of the lot, a small golden ball with wings that flutters around playing hide and seek. It hides, you seek. But the unfair thing about it is that the small golden ball, called a Snitch, is allowed to move about from its hiding place, while you have to look around for it in any wizard's favoured mode of transportation, a broomstick. Yes, I did say 'broomstick'. The red ball is called the Quaffle, while the black balls are called Bludgers. But now, we have to return to the story.
In his house Gryffindor's Quidditch team, it was Harry's job to find the Snitch. Therefore he was quite capable of catching small blurs that whizzed around his head.
He untied the parchment from Pigwidgeon's leg, and allowed it to go to Hedwig's perch for a drink of water and an Owl Treat.
He read Ron's letter, smiling a bit. Pig had come back and plopped on his bed, waiting expectantly.
"No, little guy. I'll send Ron a line in the morning with Hedwig. Tell him that, and you stop waking me up at midnight, you hear?"
Pig nipped his finger and flew off into the night. Harry had noticed the other parchment on his leg labelled 'Hermione'. So Ron must be getting pretty lonely, thought Harry. Then he remembered guiltily that he was supposed to have written a note to Ron nearly a fortnight ago.
Harry shook himself of the thought and lay down on his bed once more, promising to write to Ron again the next.
Just as these normal and mundane thoughts were passing through the lean 15 year-old boy's head, pain exploded in his head and made him cringe and scream out, clutching his scar.
Remarkably, at that same moment, Lord Voldemort had laughed in a ruined house surrounded by dense forest in the country of Argentina, South America.
Author's Note: The title, 'Death Dealer vs. Lycan, shall be explained only later on. And don't worry; I did not forget Hermione's doings. They will be explained...wait for it...later on. Oh, and Death Dealer and Lycan is like nicknames for vampire and werewolf. Yes, here's a hint, Remus Lupin will be involved quite a bit. As will all the characters. I'm sure I can get the Bloody Baron a small part...ahem, ahem.
As with all writers, I plead: READ & REVIEW!
Peace.
P.S: Just for the record: I will acknowledge each and every review I get, no matter what the content.