Harry Potter and the Inferi Complex
A Fantastic Beasts/Harry Potter Crossover by
Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)
Chapter 2: HERA - Our Lady of Wrath

NOW

As there was a great deal of difference between Dudley Dursley's stated intelligence in school, and his actual intelligence, there was plenty he didn't understand.

Dudley didn't understand why the Potters would leave their only son to someone who clearly despised them, even if they were family. Even Dudley could see that Harry likely would have been better off in foster care. At least if they'd hated him there, it would be due to general dislike of children, and not personal reasons.

Dudley didn't understand the beatings. Oh, he knew they were partially to keep Harry in line. But he would occasionally hear his parents mutter something along the lines of "beat It out of him" under their breath. Dudley had always thought that It was Disobedience, but now he was convinced it was Potter Blood, because the last thing his parents wanted was Harry ending up anything like the Potters, whatever that meant. Dudley knew as little about the Potters as Harry did: that Lily Evans had married James Potter, that they'd both died in a car crash when Harry was a baby, and that Harry had ended up with the Dursleys as a result.

Dudley especially didn't understand Harry, not that he really wanted to. Dudley considered himself a pro when it came to bullying, in that he was sure he could make a career out of it. If there was one thing he'd seen a lot of, it was skinny kids like Harry who couldn't fight well enough to save their pocket money. What there weren't a lot of were skinny kids who healed up anywhere near as fast as Harry did. Dudley had only noticed because he preferred his victims to stay down longer than Harry typically did. He'd also noticed that his parents had never taken Harry to a hospital. So either Harry was sneaking off to the hospital every chance he got and getting free treatment, or he was, like Dudley's mother had always said, a freak. And not even a very good one, since the only thing healing fast meant was more beatings.

But Dudley didn't bully Harry because he was a freak. He did it for the same reason he bullied anyone else: Harry was smaller, and either unable or unwilling to fight back effectively. So whatever else his parents said about Harry, Dudley didn't care much if Harry was a freak.

At least, Dudley didn't care until he opened the cupboard door the following morning, found Harry unconscious, and Mauler (and rather a lot of spiders) dead beside him.

Dudley's parents were outraged, and yet did not quite react the way Dudley expected them to. Instead of phoning Aunt Marge to have a replacement dog sent right away, his father outright refused to have another pet in the house, and then dug a small grave for Mauler in the backyard, raving the whole time about how Harry was a menace to anything living and that they weren't running a pet cemetery.

When Harry finally woke up hours later, he seemed just as surprised as everyone else that Mauler was dead, and buried. He even seemed sorry about it. But he denied having killed Mauler, or having contributed in any way to the dog's death, and claimed he had no idea what had happened after Mauler bit him. Dudley was suspicious enough that he didn't immediately accuse Harry of lying. He was having a hard time believing that Harry could kill anything, even accidentally. But even a freak could get lucky. Meanwhile, Dudley was down one pitbull, his parents weren't getting him another one, and Harry never had any money to rip off.

Dudley wasn't happy. But he wasn't furious, either. So he didn't beat Harry into a bloody pulp, as he normally might have.

Instead, he waited.

Routinely, Dudley's parents got sick of Harry's presence, muted though it was by being locked in the cupboard, and kicked him out of the house for a few hours. So the next time that Harry emerged from the house, he paused, noticing that, for some reason, virtually every plant in the front yard, including the grass, was dead.

He was still trying to figure out the cause when Dudley came around the side of the house. And by the time Harry noticed motion out of the corner of his eye, he only had time to turn directly into the baseball bat swinging at his face.

Dudley was not merciless. He didn't want Harry dead or crippled. Deep down, he recognized that Harry was his cousin, even if his own parents liked to pretend that the Potters had never existed. And even if they had still existed, Dudley's parents certainly wouldn't have admitted that the Potters were related. The point was, Dudley had been beating up Harry long and often enough where he knew when Harry had gotten the point.

So when Harry dropped after the first swing, hands clamped over his right eye and groaning, Dudley lowered the bat. "That was for Mauler," he said simply, before going inside.

After a few minutes, Harry slowly uncovered his eye, and felt around the grass for the remains of his glasses, which he was certain he'd heard break. The pain had already numbed, but something more alarming demanded his attention. His left eye appeared to work as fine as it ever had. But the right eye, when he finally dared to open it, was instantly, notably different: everything it saw was now in black and white.

Harry briefly panicked, thinking that a splinter from the bat might have damaged his sight. But all too soon, the panic was replaced by resignation. So he couldn't see in color out of one eye anymore. What was there to see, really? The inside of the cupboard? The hateful faces of the Dursleys? Maybe not being able to see in color wasn't exactly a curse, under those circumstances. And in any case, he wouldn't be seeing very much at all, unless he could manage to piece together his glasses. It wasn't too likely that his aunt would be willing to pay for a new pair, and certainly not today of all days.

With a heavy sigh, Harry carefully slipped the remains of his glasses into his pocket. There at least wasn't much blood, so that was probably a good thing. But he decided to stay outside and wash up with the garden hose first. No telling what his aunt and uncle would accuse him of, if he went inside with blood on his face. They already thought he'd killed Mauler.

And because Harry didn't have his glasses on, he couldn't really be blamed for failing to notice the small pile of dead owls at the edge of the yard.

THEN

The house was exactly in the state it was always in: dark. Depressing. A bit drafty. Certainly not the type of place you would bring a pretty woman to, unless she had a fascination for such places, which most of them decidedly did not.

Credence was dreadfully embarrassed, but his new companion, far from being disappointed or disgusted, seemed terribly interested.

They had only taken a few steps inside when rapid footfalls were heard, and Modesty came charging at them in a white nightgown, rather like an angry goose. "Credence!" she hissed. "Where have you been?! Mother is-" and there she stopped, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Y-You... what were you thinking, Credence?!" she gasped. "You're late, and you brought home a pretty girl?! Oh, she'll murder you!"

Credence was always astonished by Modesty's ability to pick up words that he thought girls her age just shouldn't be familiar with. Although it was entirely possibly that their mother had told Modesty all about murder, just to be sure she behaved. If so, he didn't think it had worked out very well.

Far from being upset over the possibility of Credence being murdered, his companion smiled and knelt down, offering her hand to Modesty. "Hello. You must be Modesty. It's wonderful to meet you."

A little startled, Modesty hesitantly shook hands.

"You don't need to worry. I won't let Credence be murdered."

Despite having no further information about the stranger, Modesty was instantly reassured by this. "What's your name, lady?"

"Goodness, I haven't said, have I?" she asked, looking embarrassed. "I'm working now, so I think it's best that you call me Hera."

"Like the goddess?" Modesty asked at once.

"Hopefully not," Hera murmured, drawing odd looks from both Modesty and Credence. "Anyway, what a lovely home you two have here. And this must be your mother!"

Modesty and Credence froze, horrified, as Mary Lou Barebone slowly but purposefully descended the stairs. She did not look happy. She rarely did, but she especially did not look happy just then. Nor did she look furious, which would have been preferable. Instead, she appeared utterly calm. She always gave the very worst beatings when she looked like that.

"You dare," she whispered, staring directly at Credence, "to disrespect me, my home, my rules, in such a blatant way? I won't have it." And she extended her hand ominously.

With no other choice, face burning in shame, Credence began to take off his belt. He was stopped by a soft, warm hand on his.

"Hello," Hera said, somehow twisting the word so that it was less a greeting and more a bold statement. "I'm afraid it's my fault that Credence is a bit late tonight. So if he is to be punished in any way, I must insist that you-"

"Shut up, girl!" the older woman hissed.

Hera pursed her lips. "That was quite rude. I think I will leave now." And then, to everyone's amazement, she turned to Credence and smiled. "Would you like to come with me, Credence?"

Credence was shocked, so much so that he wasn't thinking clearly. That had to be the reason, because he immediately blurted out the truth. "Yes, I would, very much so."

Beaming, Hera turned to Modesty. "You are welcome to-"

But Modesty had already latched onto Credence's hand, and it was clear that she hadn't done so to keep him there.

At the betrayal of her children, their mother shrieked in outrage and launched herself across the room, directly at Hera, who she determined was the instigator.

Again acting without thinking, Credence shoved Modesty into Hera's arms and threw himself in his mother's path. Perhaps he was expecting something to happen, and if he was, then something decidedly different happened.

His mother's hand was mere inches from clawing at his face when something finally did happen.

There was a sound not entirely like BOMF, a brief flash of light, and then Mary Lou Barebone went sailing across the room, tumbling end over end, crashed into a table, vanished over the top of it, and hit the floor with a satisfying thud. The table wobbled for a few seconds, then made up its mind and fell on top of her, with an even more satisfying thud.

"That," Hera decided regretfully, "was even ruder. I really should apologize, but... well, I won't."

Credence and Modesty stared at her.

She frowned. "I tried to leave. You heard me try to leave. But she was going to strike you, and I couldn't allow that."

"Why not?" Modesty asked, sounding every bit a child who was used to being struck.

Hera grimaced and hugged Modesty tightly. "You are definitely coming with us."

Credence was looking at his hands, as if he'd never seen them before. Not as if they'd betrayed him, but as if they were suddenly incapable of aiding him.

"I owe you an apology, too, Credence," Hera said. When he didn't seem to hear her, she leaned in and brushed her lips against his ear, which immediately got his attention and turned his face bright red. "It doesn't work quite the same way now. You'll have to learn how to be yourself, while remaining entirely yourself."

He stared at her, not quite sure what she meant, but also not quite as confused as he had been.

At that moment, Chastity came running down the stairs in her nightgown, apparently drawn by the noise. She gasped when she saw the state of her mother, but did not immediately rush to help. Instead, she turned to the trio near the door, and gave them a sort of resigned, grim smile.

"I wondered how long it would take, for something like this to happen."

Hera stepped forward. "Hello, Chastity. My name is Hera."

Chastity blinked. "I... see." After a few seconds, she asked, "You will take good care of my siblings, won't you?"

"I swear it," Hera replied.

"You can come with us, Chastity!" Modesty suddenly cried.

Hera nodded to show this was the case.

But Chastity smiled tightly and shook her head. "Whatever else she is, she's still the only mother I've ever known. I won't leave her. Not yet. You two should go, though. Your place, I'm sure now, just isn't here, and never was. But... write to me, if you can, to let me know that you're safe. It doesn't have to be often."

"They will write," Hera promised. "And if you decide one day that you would like to join us, you need only tell us so. We will be listening."

"Thank you."

Modesty ran to Chastity and threw her arms around her sister's waist. Chastity stroked Modesty's head tenderly.

Credence hesitantly approached, and then asked awkwardly, "May I kiss your cheek, Chastity?"

She smiled, shook her head, and said, "Oh, Credence," for the last time. But then she presented her cheek to him, and he kissed it, trying very much to convey everything he felt for her in it. He wasn't sure it worked, but as he drew back, he thought he saw a bit too much moisture in her eyes before she blinked it away.

Then Hera came over, shook Chastity's hand, very business-like, and exchanged nods with her.

Only when they had gone, and Chastity turned to check on her mother, did she notice the business card that had been slipped into her sleeve. It was Hera's, and rather fancy, in Chastity's opinion. The background was white and decorated with what looked like many tiny fireworks, which exploded, faded, reformed, and exploded again when the light caught them.

HERA
Astute, Full Grade
(Personnel Code: ADD-K)
Department of Mysteries, Astute Office
British Ministry of Magic

And on the back, even more impressive:

This card is issued to, and can only be read by, Miss Chastity Barebone. To ensure all post reaches the recipient, always write the Personnel Code anywhere within the post. The post bird will return the post to the sender, if the post cannot be delivered as is.

"What is a post bird?" Chastity murmured, then pocketed the card and finally went to help her mother.

Some time later, she would discover a large, red-eyed raven, perched outside her bedroom window, staring at her expectantly. When she finally took pity on the poor creature and opened the window in order to feed it, it flew inside, took up residence on her desk, and refused to leave no matter how much she coaxed it. Oddly, whenever she had written a letter for Credence, Modesty, or even Hera, the raven and the letter would vanish, and the raven would return days later, looking rather pleased with itself, often with a return letter sitting front and center on the desk. But because Chastity never actually gave the post to the raven, she never once considered that it might be a post bird, and instead thought of it as a handsome pet. So she talked to it, and stroked it, and fed and watered it, and thought it a lovely companion to have.

The raven was partially to blame. It was, after all, capable of human speech, and could have told her outright what it was doing there. But it also knew that some humans reacted badly to talking birds, and it didn't want the nice treatment to be replaced by things thrown rather hard at it. So it kept its beak shut.

NOW

The first thing that Modesty Barebone learned about the Astute Office was that everyone who worked in it had a sponsor. Usually, it was an old family with money, or a single aged guardian with money. She had been worried about her own prospects. She and Credence didn't have any friends, and certainly no rich friends.

Hera had almost laughed at her. "Of course, I'll be sponsoring you two!" she said. "I promised Chastity that I'd take care of you, didn't I?" So that was that.

The second thing Modesty learned about the Astute Office was that everyone in it had at least two names, and depending on their job, might even switch back and forth between them as needed. There were various reasons for this, but the main one was that it was never supposed to be common knowledge when someone with a public identity entered the Astute Office. So Modesty was strongly encouraged to pick a new name, and she did. And since Hera was acting as her new big sister, it only made sense to adopt her surname. Only she didn't have one during work hours, and Credence was reluctant to the idea, though more because he was more interested in Hera one day taking his surname, whatever it might be by then.

Also, Hera didn't seem to want to tell them what her surname was. This was unusual, in that the Barebones were total strangers to the wizarding world, and there was no way that any family's name or reputation would have meant anything to them. Hera did not seem ashamed of her family, just extremely guarded about it. But that quality only proved Hera to be a great protector, and made Modesty desire her as a big sister even more. And she wasn't even the only person there who felt that way.

In the end, Hera gave in, and Modesty (now Merrily) learned that her new big sister's name was Ariana D. Dumbledore. Which finally explained most of the mystery behind her Personnel Code. And the rest of it was revealed when Merrily was told that the final letter in the code was generally a reference to the employee's parent.

Merrily, despite any attachment she still felt, did not want her code to refer to Mary Lou Barebone, and neither did Credence (now Oaths Taken Seriously... no, really). Fortunately, it was a matter of choice, and they were given the option of asking someone else to be their guardian. Only, that person could not work in the Astute Office. Ariana said she would write to one of her brothers about it, and soon enough, both Merrily and her brother had a nice, welcome "-A" to round out their Personnel Codes, despite having never actually met the person it referred to. Merrily occasionally sent Ariana's brother letters of gratitude, and got what she assumed was a favorable response, in the form of packages of fine breads and cheeses. These later began to include wine, but only three years after she was of age virtually everywhere.

Now, if asked, Merrily would say she had chosen her name well. She was happy, blatantly so, and her brother (who she refused to call Oaths, sometimes still called Credence, but mostly referred to by his on-duty name) at least did not appear to be unhappy. She enjoyed her work, which she could see for herself helped people, if only a rather select group of them. But then, she very much felt the same had applied to her once. And that hadn't prevented Hera from helping.

Sadly, Merrily had chosen precisely the wrong night to indulge in a little bread, cheese, and wine for dinner, followed by a nice catnap. By the time she returned to her desk, yawning slightly, the mess that greeted her, confined to a blinking monitor though it was, would not be easily resolved in the next few minutes.

She immediately slapped the red button on her desk, activating the intercom. "Astute Hera, please report to the Scanning Room immediately!"

Only two seconds later, Hera stepped out of the rip near the closet. She had changed physically in only two ways in all the years Merrily had known her: she was exactly a head taller, and all of her hair was now snow-white.

"What's wrong, Merrily?" Hera asked, her voice as pleasant as ever. It was a small comfort, but Merrily barely even noticed this time.

"Two things," Merrily breathed. "First, Harry Potter is an Obscurial."

"Damn them," Hera whispered at once, flushing slightly when Merrily gaped at her. "I mean, you're certain?"

"Based on all the available information, it couldn't be anyone else. But it gets worse."

"Worse than the Boy Who Lived slowly being corrupted by those foul Muggles that he lives with?"

"Nearly. Sahara's gone after him."

Hera blanched. "Oh, you sweet and silly girl," she sighed heavily, but fondly. "Has she made contact with him?"

"Not yet, but she'd better do it quickly. I'm getting some very strange readings, which is standard for any Emergence, but this is... wrong. Very wrong."

"In what sense?"

Merrily hesitated. "The computer is supposed to gather sample data from the security wards, and give us at least a vague impression of what we might be dealing with. Based on what I'm seeing here? It looks like someone cast small-scale Killing Curses about twenty-five times in the space of three minutes."

Hera frowned. "What do you mean, 'small-scale', Merrily? There is no scale for the Killing Curse. There's just death."

"I know. What I mean is the deaths don't appear to be human. The data suggests they were all animals and plants. I think some of them were post owls."

"Then the Ministry knows?"

"Unconfirmed. Given Harry's age, these could have been the standard Hogwarts letter owls. You know they're persistent."

"I'll confirm," Hera said dismissively. "And Harry?"

"His movement patterns haven't changed, anyway. So at least he is able to move, and his Emergence doesn't seem to have altered his body in any way that's drawing much attention."

"I suspect things dying in his presence might be noticed soon enough," Hera pointed out. "If Sahara doesn't find him soon, I'll have to."

"You're not really going to leave this to her, though?" Merrily asked.

"For the moment, I must. We need to know who sent those owls, and I can find out faster than anyone else, if they came from Hogwarts. Sahara isn't the best choice for this task, but she is on her way already, and will likely reach Harry before anyone else we send can. Who do we have operating nearby at the moment?"

Merrily bit her lip. "Well... there is my brother."

Hera looked greatly relieved. "That's perfect. Have him tail Sahara for the time being. He can keep her out of too much trouble, and make a note of anything she breaks that we need to fix later. Once I know how best to proceed, I'll deal with Harry myself."

from The New Astute's Handbook, by Opan Dor

The Obscurial and the Obscurus

When approaching an Obscurial, you cannot disregard or underestimate the Obscurus. It is a powerful entity, worthy of respect and fear. It may even be more practical, rather than viewing the Obscurial as a person with a destructive parasite, to view the Obscurial and the Obscurus as identical twins. No matter how different their forms are from each other, they began as one. They shared the same heart, mind, and body. But where one withdrew, the other lashed out relentlessly.

An Obscurus cannot be embraced or reasoned with by an outsider. The fact that it exists at all indicates that it is well beyond such methods being effective or even possible. But even if an Obscurial can be convinced, it is highly unlikely that they possess enough control to tame the Obscurus on their own. And yet, there exists a rare breed of Obscurial, so closely linked with the Obscurus that they are as one in action and thought.

I was unable to save the first Obscurial I encountered. He was just a boy, barely six years old, and yet he had known such torment that no one was able to hold out for long against the resulting Obscurus. Even as he lay dying, there was a wide smile on his face, despite the agony he was in. When I asked for the reason, his answer chilled me like nothing else.

"We always fought each other. I hated it, and it hated me. But in the end, there was only the two of us. It always had been, but I couldn't see it until now. It was like wiping off a fogged up mirror, and finally being able to see my reflection. It wasn't trying to hurt me. It just wanted to be seen by me. If I'd known that sooner, neither of us would have had to feel so alone all this time."

And he died, convinced that the Obscurus that tore his body apart and ended his life, had been his one and only friend.

And to this day, after all that I have learned, I cannot say for certain that he was wrong.

Continued in Chapter 3: SAHARA - Sand Dancer

Mr. Scamander introduces his Gila. Harry remembers.

Endnotes:

You may notice the Dursleys are a bit different here.

JKR lists very specific reasons as to why Harry didn't become an Obscurial. One of these was that the Dursleys didn't hate magic, they feared it. To the point that they never mentioned it to Harry, thus he was never made to feel ashamed of it, which is key to the process. Which implies that Petunia fears magic. But it seems to me more like she hated or envied Lily for having it. If she feared Lily, it seems very strange to me that she would take in Lily's orphaned son, rather than put him up for immediate adoption. Especially if she was so afraid of the magic he would surely possess, and might one day use against her in retribution for a decade of mistreatment. All the more reason to treat him kindly, so there would be no need to fear him or his magic.

If, on the other hand, Petunia hated magic more than she feared it, and would not hesitate to forcibly suppress Harry's magic by "beating him proper", that makes more sense to me. Magic made Lily the favorite daughter, broke up the Evans family in Petunia's eyes. Of course she would hate it. And if she did feel anything positive for Lily, then magic got Lily killed. So Petunia would view Harry in one of two ways: either as a reminder of the magic she hates, or, she is so obsessed with Harry being normal that she would beat the magic out of him. Because in a twisted way, she doesn't want magic to kill Lily's son as it did Lily. But even that would not make her like him.

I will not just assume that Petunia hates Harry. Even Snape had a deeper reason that had little to do with Harry as a person. But, like Snape, I would never expect Petunia to admit her feelings to anyone she didn't trust completely. Which makes Vernon the only one who knows her feelings, although I think assuming he totally shares them gives him too much credit. The Evans weren't family to him. But it is safe to assume he prefers a normal, non-magic nephew.

One important note for Dudley: his parents haven't told him the truth about Harry. So he is forced to come up with his own reasons for how they view him. And his own reasons to treat Harry as they do, since it is encouraged. I remain impressed that canon Dudley was able to see Harry as family and show concern for him, and since all three Dursleys are less blinded by fear here, I would hope it would make them slightly more intelligent. And, unfortunately, far less afraid of consequences in their treatment of Harry.

Astutes have personalized business cards. Not in the sense that they designed them, but in the sense that the design mirrors the personality. Which isn't always a great idea.