XXX
Story: [The Devil Ashikabi]
Summary: He didn't support bullying, and didn't like hurting others, but a job was a job. He just wished she'd stop splattering him all the time.
Crossover: (Harry Potter) / (Sekirei)
Genre: Slight Horror, Romance?
XXX
She wasn't entirely sure why she was there.
It was such a pathetically simple thing, so why couldn't they just have sent someone else off to intimidate whoever it was that was causing troubles this time around?
Alright, so MBI's whatever-machine had apparently broken down because of something. And she supposed that that was something that MBI ought to check out. But why did she have to come along to intimidate these pathetic humans? Didn't they have other pathetic humans who would be perfectly suited for these disgustingly boring jobs?
But no. She had to come along and stare at the whale of a man who smelled a bit like burnt bacon as he sweated in the Japanese summer heat. Sour burnt bacon.
And then there was the woman who wouldn't stop screeching, clinging to the pig-like little human that was apparently her son.
Hell, the only one in the entire group that wasn't actively getting on her nerves was the scrawny nephew of theirs. And who the entire group seemed to be silently and not-so-silently blaming for their current predicament.
Abuse.
That was what this probably was. Not that she particularly cared. Humans were disgustingly pathetic creatures, and – abuse or not – the kid looked like he'd crumble at the first push of a good wind. It was kind of disgusting, but since he wasn't actually bringing attention to himself, he was her favorite member of this particular group of humans.
Ah, but it would be nice if MBI would just loosen her leash for long enough that she could just cut the whole lot of them open with her sword. The blood might even make a rather lovely contrast with the least-annoying human's eyes. Sharp green, mixing with darkened dull red.
She'd have to make sure to avoid cutting apart his eyes, but she should probably take care to place at least a few bleeding cuts on his face. That way she could probably slice off his head and not be reminded by how pathetic he looked, without giving up on that potentially interesting sense of contrast.
Unfortunately, there was probably no way in hell she'd have her leash loosened that much. Because killing off a family of foreigners would probably kick-start all kinds of annoying little investigations that MBI would very much like to avoid.
Still, a girl could dream, right?
Carefully avoiding the spittle coming from the bacon-smelling man as he ranted on and on about how it was 'all the freak's fault' and how if they wanted to know how the machine had short-circuited then they could just take him and dissect him or something.
The nephew didn't look like he was agreeing with this assessment, but was carefully keeping his mouth shut.
Really though, for the kid's guardian to willingly give him away to be dissected by MBI? That was actually kind of hilarious. Not to mention that the other two of the group seemed perfectly inclined to agree with him.
She couldn't help but wonder, almost fascinated, over how in the world these idiots could've dodged social services for this long. Sure, she didn't care. But she was pretty sure that there were others who would've, so to see them having obviously failed so spectacularly in 'protecting the young' or whatever, was kind of hilarious.
Of course, Takami didn't seem to find it nearly as amusing. Perhaps some kind of 'motherly tendencies' or something, causing her to actually look somewhat offended by the disgusting man's sincere offer.
Though, she apparently decided to verbally accept the offer anyway.
Oh, but this could turn out interestingly. MBI didn't exactly do a lot of human experimentation. Or, at least it didn't do a lot of it on children that had quite frankly been sold to them for said experimentation by the child's guardians.
She wondered briefly if perhaps Takami would actually go through on the experimenting part of the deal, before dismissing it. The woman might be capable of holding her leash, but she was still a soft touch with children. Far too soft for her to dissect the boy without at least a very good reason.
Karasuba wondered curiously if she could think of a good reason. It might be funny. Especially if she could convince them to do it without anesthetics.
Cut open, blood all around him, splayed across a table, still screaming, eyes bright and panicky, until they finally dulled in death.
Oh, but that actually sounded quite attractive.
Perhaps she could get someone to help her with figuring out a reason that would convince Takami to dissect him. It might be worth it.
Temporarily shaking the thought, she returned her attention to the situation at hand.
The situation where apparently Takami had both accepted their offer, and allowed everyone other than the nephew to leave. Karasuba felt a bit like rolling her eyes at the idiots whom Takami was now calling the social services on.
Seriously, they quite literally sold a kid, and didn't even think that that would come back to bite them in the arse? Wow, she was actually kind of amazed by that. She knew that humanity was pathetic and weak, but she hadn't expected that any of them would be this gloriously retarded on top of that.
The scrawny little human was keeping a carefully neutral face, though it was kind of obvious that he was amused by Takami's actions in regards to his guardians. He still didn't look like he was willing to simply ignore the fact that he'd been sold to them for dissection purposes.
Which was probably a good thing for him to keep in mind, since Karasuba had already decided that they should definitely try and take advantage of that. Or at least, that they should definitely try to convince Takami that taking advantage of that was something that they ought to do.
It would be a double set of entertainment if the woman fell into depression or something over having made a call like that. So they should definitely make sure that she was the one who made the final call on the situation. Even if it might make it a lot more difficult to convince MBI to take advantage of it.
It wasn't like she really had anything better to do with her time, since apparently going out on pathetically pointless things like these was something that was something that was going to be happening nowadays.
Still, it would be fun to see him being sliced up, even if she wouldn't be allowed to do it herself.
Not that it wouldn't be a bit of a shame, because MBI might not be willing to let her watch the procedure in person. She tended to make the staff nervous after all, and nervousness and scalpels generally made for a huge mess of any the more delicate parts.
Like the eyes. It would be a shame to have the little human lose an eye. The contrast really would be amazing.
The boy's eyes met hers.
Green, and green and sharp and bright, and green and suspicious, and cold and green, and green and green and green and-...!
Lips touched lips, and the room exploded into light.
XXX
MBI had been quite upset about it. Takami had been quite furious about it. Minaka had considered it for a while before giving his absent approval.
Harry didn't really care.
He had a job now. His job was to keep her on a leash, to keep her from disobeying orders and causing too much trouble.
His job was to follow her around as she hunted down those who would abandon the Sekirei Plan.
In the beginning, he'd asked a lot of questions, then he'd realized that she didn't care about the reasons that she was asked to hunt down the other Sekirei and terminate them. And in some bizarre twist of fate, she realized that he was starting to not care about it either.
He was hired to do a job, he was paid to do a job. She was bound to her duty, and he was bound to her.
The rest of MBI was starting to shy back whenever he walked down the corridors, because they knew that he was hers. And he was starting to understand that the only one who actually loved him was herself. And she was bound to her duty. And he was paid to do a job.
The first week into it, he began to simply sigh in exasperation whenever she artfully maneuvered the targets so that their blood would end up splashing all over him.
He really looked beautiful like that. Covered from head-to-toe in blood, sharp green eyes staring out at her with a fondly annoyed expression.
She was really really looking forwards to when puberty would come knocking. Looking forward to it badly.
But the more blood he was covered in, the more the others shied away from him. As they should. He was hers, and they should fear him. Because he was beautiful and he was hers, and she would murder anyone who dared to lay their hands on him.
Of course, it had only been a matter of time until one of the disobedient Sekirei had realized that he was her weak point, and decided to attack him rather than herself.
The gun jammed, the Sekirei stumbled, someone dropped a vase into the path of the sword-... a hundred different coincidences for a hundred different attempts, leaving him with a hundred different ways to just barely slip out of death's touch.
A child that was regularly seen covered head-to-toe in blood, with his expression usually leaning more towards fond exasperation rather than horror at the destruction that his Sekirei wrought on her targets, and safeguarded by the impossible luck of the devil himself. Harry Potter was quickly classified as a highly disturbing Ashikabi.
Karasuba was pleased by this, because it generally lessened the attacks on her Fated One, and – no matter how lucky he was – the enemy only needed to be lucky once. And though Harry had originally been slightly uncomfortable with the rumors, he'd quickly come to accept the reputation as something that simply came with the job, and he was more than happy to make use of it in order to lessen the danger that he was exposed to.
Just because the gun jammed, didn't make you any less terrified when someone aimed it at you.
XXX
If there was one thing Takami could honestly attest to being uncomfortable with, then it was Karasuba's Ashikabi.
The Black Sekirei was twisted, and had always been. But the way that her Ashikabi simply... didn't care, made her rather nervous.
It wasn't that Harry was an unpleasant boy, or a person who'd cheerfully step over corpses to get to his destination. It was just that he tended to only be nice to people who were nice to him.
He was loyal, and he was jaded. But the only one who dared to show any kind of affection towards him was Karasuba, because the Black Sekirei had something of a jealous streak.
An extremely bloodthirsty jealous streak.
Nobody showed any kind of affection towards him, because everyone knew that Karasuba would gleefully stick a sword in them the moment she could ensure that her Ashikabi wouldn't be upset about her doing so.
Harry was nice to those who were nice to him. Karasuba was the only one who wasn't at least mildly terrified of his presence. And so he was only loyal to Karasuba.
However, Minaka paid him a salary to keep her on a leash, and it wasn't as if he had any other savings to fall back on should he be fired. So he did his job, because it was a job, and because he enjoyed spending time with Karasuba.
And Karasuba loved her job, and especially adored splattering the poor boy in the blood of her victims.
Takami tried not to think too much about why she would enjoy doing so, and instead would usually just send a swift prayer to anything that would listen to try and keep the innocent boy from being turned into some kind of psychopathic maniac, since she couldn't actually keep him away from his beloved Sekirei.
It also made her reaffirm her decision to keep her own children the hell away from the Sekirei Plan.
XXX
[Time Passes,
various things happen,
and the Sekirei Plan is aborted]
XXX
Minerva McGonagall hadn't known what to make of the address of this particular student.
What in the world was Harry Potter doing in Japan?
Still, he hadn't sent them any message to reject his position at Hogwarts, so they had little choice but to travel halfway across the world in order to contact him. Which was where her actually traveling came into the picture.
Owls were sent to everyone who weren't muggleborn, with nothing but a short acceptance letter. And muggleborns were in turn contacted by an actual member of the staff in order to properly explain the magical world to them and their family.
Sometimes, the system hit a snag – like a halfblood whose parents hadn't been entirely honest with each other, to name a recent example – but it generally flowed fairly smoothly. In the end however, Hogwarts was only responsible for British wizards and witches. There were other schools with other jurisdictions, as it should be. The commute could turn absolutely dreadful, otherwise.
Which was again, where her traveling came into the picture.
Owls had a reach far greater than most muggles would assume, but even they had limits. And forcing an owl to fly to a different continent was generally considered bad form, no matter how certain the sender was that the letter would actually arrive properly.
So, a staff member needed to instead go all the way to Japan in order to contact Mr Potter.
Which was where things became complicated.
Filius could generally opt out of most muggleborn-visits on the simple grounds that he was hardly inconspicuous in the muggle world. Severus would be carefully allowed to opt out of visiting muggleborns because of his caustic nature. And-... well, really this time it had come down to the simple fact that – other than Albus, who was quite too busy indeed – Minerva was the only one among them who could speak Japanese.
She wasn't necessarily good at it. But she knew enough to get by, and if they were going to send a staff member anyway, they might as well send one who could communicate with those around their future student without making use of charades.
In fact, it was entirely possible that Mr Potter wouldn't actually know English, which was a bizarre thought. But things like that happened, especially when young children switched countries.
It was all a somewhat convoluted mess, and Minerva had resigned herself to simply presenting the boy with his acceptance letter, and then get herself straight back to Britain. Because she had quite a bit to do as well.
XXX
Meeting Mr Potter had been... 'unusual' was probably the best way of putting it.
Considering that he had been dropped on the doorstep of his muggle relatives, it wasn't that far-fetched for the boy to have grown up at least somewhat-ignorant of magic.
She'd been proven correct in that expectation, but had also been shocked to discover that the boy hadn't been in residence with his relatives for over two years. And that he had been living with an older woman since then.
An older woman who seemed quite protective of him, if the way she kept a sword at hand during her entire visit was any clue.
Still, the boy had admitted that there technically wasn't really anything more important for him to do, and had as such accepted the acceptance letter without any fuzz.
Upon further inquiry – because the way he'd phrased that statement had left her a bit bewildered – it was revealed to her that his current muggle school was something along the lines of dreadfully boring after having been briefly hired into a rather lucrative position by a muggle company that apparently dealt with pharmaceuticals.
Apparently, his position had somehow included interacting with the woman that he was currently living with, and they'd grown quite close over the years since. Though both people seemed unwilling to discuss the details of their assignment, they concluded that the 'contract had been voided', as a result of the directive of the company no longer being able to sign their paychecks, and easily admitted that they were comfortable enough financially to survive half-a-century into the future.
Those kinds of numbers were quite mindboggling to Minerva, but then apparently the woman had been saving up quite the sum over a number of years previously.
Even so, Mr Potter was quite willing to commit himself to the commute halfway across the world, all the way back to Britain, with the almost ominous words of: "At least it might get Karasuba to stop moping about missing her fight with Musubi-san."
Because certainly she wouldn't separate as vulnerable a person as him from his bodyguard?
She could feel the coming headache already.
XXX
Albus again tried to shrug off the unease that kept surfacing whenever he laid eyes on the white-haired woman.
There was a certain degree of tradition that needed to be upheld, but there were cases when various purebloods had required a bodyguard on school grounds. Usually, these cases were related to having their families' being in blood feuds with the families of Hogwarts's staff members, and a few times being related to outright war-conditions.
The Potter was not in blood feud with any family. There was no war to support the danger of their heir. But it was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, that they were talking about.
As a political figure himself, Albus knew better than to assume that Harry would be 'safe'. There would be countless people vying for his loyalty, and a large number of individuals who'd be aiming to kill him outright.
In that light, he couldn't dismiss the threat that Mr Potter was under, even if none of the traditional requirements were properly fulfilled. And so, he'd been forced to grudgingly accept Karasuba's presence in Hogwarts.
However, that didn't mean that he was happy about it. There was just something about her that ensured that he would never meet with her without being inches away from drawing his wand.
Karasuba seemed to have noticed the reaction, but appeared to treat it as amusing rather than insulting.
Despite the somewhat-tense situation at the staff table, Albus felt a smile creep onto his face as the First Years finally began to trickle into the Great Hall.
Karasuba had accompanied young Mr Potter through the train trip, but had split from him in order to allow him to achieve the traditional First Year experience when introduced to the castle. As any bodyguard allowed to watch over their charge on Hogwarts grounds would've done.
Hopefully, there wouldn't be any truly unpleasant incidents in regards to the unsettling woman and her young charge.
Really, all Albus could do was hope. And pray.
XXX
"SLYTHERIN!"
Silence.
Then, hesitantly, applause from the Slytherin table.
Minerva did her best to not let the Sorting of young Mr Potter affect her expression. But it had come as a-... no, it really hadn't been a shock at all, had it?
The boy seemed nice enough, but there was something aloof in his eyes. It was an expression she would closer associate with an auror who'd participated in the war, someone who'd already resigned themselves to never being able to truly connect with other people.
So, perhaps she wasn't so surprised that he ended up in a House that spoke of individual excellence, than for him to have ended up in Hufflepuff. The seemingly unshakeable calm of his would probably suit Slytherin like a glove.
Which was a lot better than what she could imagine would've happened should he have been Sorted into Gryffindor instead. The scenario consisted of a large amount of attempts to cause a reaction, and sooner or later one of her cubs would've crossed the line and gotten themselves injured.
Because there was no doubt in Minerva's mind that Harry Potter had some very sharp claws, should he ever decide to show them.
No, she was quite pleased that he had landed himself in a House that was used to having some of the more anti-social cases, since he'd most likely by quickly labeled as 'politely avoid' instead of 'cheerfully antagonize'.
However... who knew what orders those children had been given by their parents for dealing with the Boy-Who-Lived? Not just the politically inclined parents who'd see him as a resource and tool to be used and abused at their leisure, but also the ones who'd only barely dodged out of Azkaban after the war. Having the Boy-Who-Lived be associated with Death Eaters would probably cause Albus's already-white hair to start falling out from stress.
Then again, it wasn't as if the boy was defenseless. Minerva mused to herself as she shot the boy's self-proclaimed bodyguard a glance.
There was just something deeply unsettling about that woman.
XXX
Severus sneered.
Not only had the arrogant Potter boy dragged a bodyguard into the school like the attention-seeking brat that he was, but now he was being put into Severus' own House? Oh, that was just great. Now he had to be responsible for the little snot.
Still, the night continue on without too many hiccups, with the white-haired woman accepting that she wouldn't be allowed to sleep in the same dorm as the brat. No, she'd still be within the Slytherin House's walls, but she'd be given a room of her own.
However, true to his father's memory, the problems began springing up early the very next day.
Mr Potter refused to sleep in the boy's dorms, and had instead spent the night in the bed provided to his bodyguard, who'd apparently been perfectly willing to accommodate him. There had as a result been some of the older years who'd sneeringly implied that something of the sexual nature had occurred.
Which was annoying to Severus, because as Head of House he actually had to look into that, once the insinuation was made.
Then of course he had to deal with all of the other professors kicking up a fuss once the rumors of the situation reached their ears, and the only thing he'd received from the two guilty parties was a statement of 'their relationship not really being his business' but that there wasn't anything sexual involved.
The 'yet' remained unsaid. Thankfully.
It was one thing to learn that the arrogant little brat was possibly-dating a woman more than twice his age, but he'd be damned before he had to bother with actually looking into the details of the brat's current or future sex-life.
He would've loved to use the couple's indiscretions to have the Potter-boy kicked out of Hogwarts on his nose, but unfortunately Dumbledore was far too caught up in his prophecy-supported scheming to even risk losing control of the child. And having him outside of Hogwarts would mean leaving him far outside of his control. At least, if the rumors of him staying somewhere in Japan held any true substance.
And so, he gritted his teeth, and did his best to turn a blind eye to the depths of the boy's depravity.
He couldn't even take House Points from the brat, since he'd been Sorted into Slytherin, and he really didn't want to spend any more time with him than necessary even if it would only be through giving him detentions.
Still, that didn't mean that he couldn't encourage the rest of his Snakes to cut the brat down a peg of two.
XXX
Draco Malfoy wasn't entirely certain what to make of Harry Potter.
On the one hand, he was the Boy-Who-Lived, famous, polite, and fascinatingly calm in the face of seemingly everything. But on the other hand, he had a bodyguard, which was virtually unheard of.
The fact that the white-haired woman was both pretty and bizarrely enough walking around with a sword, certainly didn't help with deciding Draco's opinion on the last Potter.
However, he couldn't deny the fact that his own bookends were kind of falling quite flat in comparison to the sharp-eyed woman. Because, no matter how strong Crabbe and Goyle were, they were still his own age and thus not as intimidating as an adult who worked with violence professionally.
So yes, it didn't take very long at all for Harry Potter to be classified as someone not even the upper-years would be willing to cross lightly. Even if he seemed to have absolutely no interest at all in playing the game of influence that most all purebloods in Slytherin had been instructed to become masterful players of.
In fact, Harry Potter seemed to have little interest in much of anything.
He was polite, and would answer questions to the best of his knowledge. But he was also inherently aloof of their classmates, seemingly never truly understanding why they would care about certain things and not other things.
It was, Draco decided after much thought, as if Harry Potter was an adult in a child's body.
Oh, he wasn't. Not exactly. But, every now and then he gave Draco the impression that the last Potter was someone who'd long since abandoned their childhood for other things.
There was also the way he tolerated his bodyguard – who tended to gleefully scare everyone around her witless – with a sort of fond exasperation, that just made it difficult to associate him with the kind of self-important smugness that Draco ought to be able to see in a child his own age when put into a situation like his.
No, there was definitely something strange about the Boy-Who-Lived.
And Draco was carefully keeping away from the other boy in order to avoid triggering any convoluted plot of his. Because he got the feeling that if he truly did interrupt something that the other boy didn't want to be interrupted, then Draco would be dealt with.
And he'd rather be merely somewhat influential in their year-group, than be dead.
He quite liked living.
XXX
Minerva felt her lips thin severely as she stared at the mess that Karasuba had left behind.
Really, that woman shouldn't be anywhere near children.
"Still, did you have to splatter me in troll's blood?" Mr Potter sighed at his bodyguard. "The way this smells, it'll probably take ages to get it out of my hair."
Karasuba simply smiled at him, a happy expression that was completely at odds with the guts and blood that was splattered all across the walls, and – indeed – across Mr Potter as well.
In fact, Mr Potter was completely covered in blood. And was – rather disturbingly – completely sincere about the fact that his only emotion in regards to this development was the mild annoyance stemming from trying to get blood out of his hair sometime in the future.
Merlin, the boy didn't even seem surprised, or in any way disgusted about being covered in the very-much-dead troll's blood and guts.
The only bright light in the situation was Miss Granger's horrified expression, and even that was a mild comfort at best. If in no small part because – despite her horror – she seemed to be settling into a sort of awe in regards to the white-haired woman who'd saved her.
The last thing Minerva needed was for the brightest girl in her year to suddenly begin following the disturbingly unsettling woman around like a puppy.
It was bad enough that Mr Potter was seemingly fairly used to the idea of being covered in blood, given how he was now expressing his exasperation with his bodyguard over already ruining his clothes.
"I know that you've been unable to enjoy yourself lately, but I'd really wish if you avoided drenching me in blood that might-or-might-not have strange magical properties." Mr Potter continued with an almost indulgent expression.
Minerva felt her lips thin even further.
She really needed a drink.
XXX
Hermione Granger didn't understand Harry Potter.
He and his bodyguard had rescued her from the troll, but despite the glow of admiration she felt when staring up at the uncaring expression of the white-haired woman, it didn't take Hermione long to realize that she had had no interest in saving her life. She had wanted to protect Harry Potter, and she had wanted to kill the troll.
She had very much wanted to kill the troll.
The kind of bloodthirst that seemed inherent in the behavior of the Boy-Who-Lived's bodyguard was highly unsettling. The fact that the boy in question seemed almost completely apathetic towards it certainly wasn't helping matters.
No, Hermione didn't understand Harry Potter.
He wouldn't attack anyone, she was sure of that. But there was just something... 'off' about him.
However, perhaps unfortunately, Hermione couldn't allow a mystery to remain unexplored.
So she asked him how he could be so calm about being covered in blood.
"A few years ago, I was hired for a job." Harry told her absently. "It wasn't exactly a glamorous job, but it was doable, and it paid well."
Hermione frowned thoughtfully at the boy. "What was the job?"
"To keep Karasuba on a leash." He said simply, reaching for a book.
Hermione's frown became more pronounced. "A 'leash'?"
"'Minimize the collateral damage.'" The boy quoted, glancing her way with a resigned carelessness. "I was to keep her from killing anyone who she wasn't ordered to kill."
"Oh." Hermione breathed, feeling as if the floor had given out from underneath her feet.
She didn't understand Harry Potter, because she was a child, and he was already a veteran soldier.
It wasn't a happy realization. And it wasn't a piece of his past that she could approve of, but at the same time-...
At the same time, it wasn't as if anyone else wanted to talk to her.
XXX
Albus took a deep shuddering breath.
Quirrell was dead. Quirrell had been killed in the middle of drinking unicorn blood. Quirrell showed signs of long-term possession.
Perhaps more disturbing than the white-haired woman who'd caused this latest revelation and her entrance into the Great Hall carrying the corpse of his Defense Professor, was that neither she nor Mr Potter had seemed bothered at all.
That she hadn't cared would've perhaps become obvious after her reaction to the troll – though he'd hoped that she was merely enthusiastic about protecting her charge, rather than her actually enjoying the act of violence in itself – but Mr Potter had seemed more exasperated at the woman for dragging the corpse in front of children than he had seemed upset for her dragging along a corpse in the first place.
Also disturbingly, there had been no questions from either the Boy-Who-Lived or his bodyguard in regards to what security measures he was taking to allow a possessed man onto the school grounds. No, what the woman had asked about had been the exact specifics of the magical properties of unicorn blood, and Mr Potter had been the one to politely inquire to what extent the Defense Professor's unexpected demise would affect their curriculum.
They didn't care.
A man was dead. A possessed man driven to desperate and horrific measures, true, but a man nonetheless. And they didn't care at all.
When he'd tried to breach the topic, Mr Potter had been the one to point out that individuals exposed to long-term possession were considered 'dead until proven otherwise', meaning that there was quite literally nothing to complicate the situation legally.
It was... practical. That was his impression of Mr Potter's reaction to the event. The response far too measured to come from the lips of someone who hadn't recited similar things to similarly important people on previous occasions.
The fact that he'd even known to look for a law that would allow him to avoid being held legally accountable for someone's death was of course also highly unsettling. A child shouldn't have any reason to look up various loopholes for avoiding to be tried for murder.
Where had all of his plans gone so wrong?
XXX
XXX Omakes XXX
XXX (Legalities) XXX
"How many lives did it take you to begin investigating the laws surrounding murder on a regular basis?" They demanded in incredulous horror.
"None, actually." Harry rebuffed without seemingly any discomfort whatsoever. "I made certain to investigate the full legalities of the situation before ever agreeing to the contract MBI provided me with."
"And what could possibly give anyone an excuse for murdering other people?" They demanded.
Harry tilted his head slightly and gave them a thin polite smile. "'People', you say. According to the technicalities of the law, I was merely dealing with the elimination of 'property'."
Their faces paled. "You worked in the slave trade?"
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose it might be classified as such." He finally agreed, still not appearing as if this revelation bothered him at all. "Though it seems quite hypocritical of you to be shocked by this, considering that your school is so heavily reliant on the work of slaves."
"What?! No! There aren't any-!" They began to protest.
Harry interrupted them. "Whether your house elves serve willingly in slavery or not, that doesn't lessen the technical fact that they are indeed slaves."
XXX (Dealing with Death Eaters) XXX
Lucius Malfoy stared up at the child in front of him in horror.
"It's really quite the amazing legal system that you have." The boy began calmly. "Despite the many restrictions on how the aurors are allowed to react to violence against them, there is seemingly a fascinating degree of leniency towards civilians protecting their own land."
Lucius felt himself pale, because the boy was correct on those accounts, and he knew very well just how lenient the law could be in such situations. He really should've listened to his son when he'd described the Boy-Who-Lived as someone dangerous, rather than classify it as the ramblings of a child faced with a child with a bigger stick.
He'd expected the Boy-Who-Lived to be capable of grand magics, and impossible skill. But he hadn't expected someone who played on his own field. He hadn't expected a child who danced politics.
He didn't know how many had already died in the traps set around the property. The traps that should've been classified as 'illegal' by muggles, but remained perfectly legal on the wizarding side of the spectrum.
Whatever this boy was, a Dark Lord in training or something else, there was horrifically enough absolutely no doubt in Lucius's mind that he would be getting away with this.
"Now, there are quite a few muggle laws surrounding the subject, but technically wizards never signed the Geneva convention, nor did they in any legal way accept the laws the muggles based around that agreement. So... you're in a bit of a pickle, Mr Malfoy." The boy looked at him with a smile that was pure cold-hearted politeness. "You see, you have information that I want. And I will have it, by any means necessary."
Lucius could guess where this was going, but using an Unforgivable wouldn't be something he could dodge on a minor technicality. This child would burn for this.
"Karasuba, start with his fingers." The Boy-Who-Lived ordered his bodyguard, before turning back to Lucius. "Muggles can be quite inventive in their methods of torture, Mr Malfoy. And don't worry about making a mess, the carpet is surprisingly easy to clean."
Lucius felt his eyes widen as the woman lifted the knife that she'd been holding.
"I should know." The boy continued with a small smile. "Otherwise we would've been forced to buy a new one a long time ago."
The knife descended.
XXX