Nightmare's reawakening(translation)

by dragonqueen909

This is the English translation of Fumseck73's fic (Renaissance du Cauchemar)Chamber of secrets AU. Harry found the entrance to the chamber earlier during the year. After almost having an heart attack when meeting the Basilisk, he realise that she was only lonely and became her friend. Rest of summary inside.

4. Reap the Hurricane

Chapter 3: Reap the Hurricane

Arriving in the Great Hall, they were greeted by an impressive hubbub. The biggest noise was coming from the Slytherin table, which looked panicked. Harry looked at Percy, puzzled.

"Percy? What is happening?"

The latter shook his head, visibly shocked.

"Slytherin would have lost more than a hundred points between last night and this morning. Nobody understands how or why, and Snape is in a foul mood. He can't get the points up. Ravenclaw also took a hit in the standings, and even we lost points. The only ones who have hardly moved, are the Hufflepuff."

Harry exchanged a surprised look with Sephiroth, shocked by the effectiveness of the Code of Conduct. He thought Slytherin would lose points, yes, but to that extent? The situation was even worse than Sephiroth thought. Obviously, the punishments had never been applied, and the students had come to think that they could do what they wanted in the school, without suffering any consequences. A slight amused smile curled Sephiroth's lips, making those who saw him shudder. Things had changed in the school, and the children were just beginning to realize it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a grumble from Harry.

"And it's off again for another ride," Harry mumbled as Malfoy approached, looking furious.

"Potter! What did you do to get my father removed from the board?" The blond exclaimed furiously, spitting on Harry.

"Nothing!" Harry protested.

"Do you think I'll believe you Potter? My father comes here yesterday, and in the evening, he gets an owl to tell him he's fired from the board!"

"And why is it my fault?" Protested the boy, stepping back to get closer to Sephiroth. "I don't have the power to do that!"

Malfoy stared at him, squinting, fuming, forgetting Sephiroth's presence next to him.

"Watch it, Potter," Malfoy growled. "One of these days, you'll end up like your mudblood mother. Too bad your father has lowered with such filth, the line of Potters was…"

"And it will be another 20 points from Slytherin," said a lugubrious voice, interrupting the blond, and startling everyone around. "It seems that you still haven't understood, Mister Malfoy, that certain terms are no longer tolerated in this school."

People turned to the Bloody Baron, looking at him with wide eyes. Even the teachers were speechless. From living memories, rare were those who had heard him speak, and it was usually to control Peeves. Hearing him remove points from his own house was an event never seen before, just like his words.

"I would also gladly have gone to see your Head of House, for a detention, but as it seems that he didn't decided to punish you as he should, I would be happy to withdraw points every time you insult the others. The Code of Conduct existed for a reason in the past, so that students would respect each other, at least on the surface. No one can stop you from thinking what you want, but do not express it. Now, are you going to sit down, or do I still have to withdraw points for your unacceptable behavior? At this pace, you'll be the only one responsible for your house ending in the negative."

For a moment, Harry thought Malfoy was still going to protest, and lose points for his house. Nott and another student from Slytherin arrived at that time (Harry was pretty sure it was Zabini), and they grabbed the albino, dragging him to their table.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Maybe now he could have some peace on Malfoy's side. A look at the teachers' table showed him an animated discussion, probably under a spell of silence so as not to be heard by the students. Dumbledore seemed to be divided between anger and another indefinable emotion (fear? Panic? Something of the sort anyway), Snape was clearly enraged, Flitwick furious for he did not know what reason (Luna's harassment maybe?), and McGonagall seemed ready to spit fire. Only Sprout was calm, and even a little smug apparently. That was normal, her house was the only one to have lost almost no points.

Shrugging, Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table for breakfast. If Sephiroth had not appeared, he might have stuffed himself to make the most of the meals from the school before being locked up again at the Dursleys. Here he could relax, knowing that he would never go back there.

Sephiroth noticed that no one in three of the houses had yet reacted to what he had made posted in the common rooms. Ravenclaw was the quietest house, almost all the students bending over scrolls, furiously noting something. Regularly, he could see them exchange their scrolls, clearly comparing their notes. He smiles with amusement. Obviously, the house of the scholars was clearly up to their reputation.

A look beside him showed that Hermione was in the same state, scribbling furiously on a parchment, sometimes pulling out a book to compare something. She seemed at once furious and on the verge of tears, as if she felt betrayed. Shaking his head, he gently put his hand on her shoulder, making her jump. He caught her surprised eyes and gently spoke to her.

"The books are written by humans, Hermione. And like all humans, authors are not infallible. They can lie."

The girl nodded, still clearly on the verge of tears, and began to write furiously again. Sephiroth shook his head again, straightening up. He almost had the impression of a Genesis having discovered that Loveless was a fake. He sighed. He really missed his friends. Genesis tirades on Loveless, Angeal's on honors, and even Zack's enthusiasm. He would never have said it out loud, but in spite of the Puppy tiring side, his constant enthusiasm had sometimes been good for him when he was not feeling good. His joy of life was a balm to his wounded heart.

oOo

Harry would never have thought he would see that. Hermione calling a professor an incompetent moron, and impostor! And she was not the only one. The whole Ravenclaw house had followed shortly to demand Lockhart's departure from the school, and the repayment of the books they had bought. The other houses had finally followed the movement, writing to their parents to support their requests.

Owls had literally invaded the Great Hall at meals, all heading for a Lockhart who had quickly lost his delighted air by the flood of invectives he was obviously receiving. And this without counting the possible Howlers, claiming the refund of books purchased. Some had even challenged him to duel for having usurped the exploits of their loved ones!

Finally, the so-called expert in the forces of evil had fled, apparently not wanting to be confronted by angry parents/relatives of the victims, who all knew he was currently at Hogwarts.

Harry had been relieved. Lockhart's attention was really starting to give him bad vibes, and he was almost certain that it was only a matter of time before Sephiroth did something definitive like killing or mutilating him for life. And he himself began to no longer be disturbed by the idea.

The course that he "assured" had received the worst score of all exams apparently, and most students were invited to redo them in the summer if they wanted to get a better grade. Harry had signed for that, thinking that Sephiroth would be more proud of him than if he did like Ron and decided to do nothing.

Verifying that he had everything in his trunk, Harry put a set of his muggle clothes under his wizard's robe, carefully choosing those in the best condition. They were all too big for him of at least five sizes, if not more, and worn out for some. He could feel Sephiroth's disapproving look in front of his things, but his uniform would not fit in the muggle world. He knew that the disapproval would be directed at the Dursleys, but it still made him feel uncomfortable.

He sighed, before putting his hand on what he was looking for, his pouch containing his wizard currency. There was still a lot in it, but he made his decision. He just hoped that Sephiroth wouldn't mind about it in the future. Now, to convince Ron to accept.

"Harry, I cannot accept!" Protested his friend.

"Ron, for the last time, it's not charity," Harry said, exasperated. "I know that as long as your wand does not explode, your parents will not buy you a new one. And even if they do, they will have a hard time paying for it. I don't care if you give me the money back tomorrow, in a month, or never. I do it as a friend. Nothing more!"

"But…" hesitated Ron. "What if my mother say something?"

"If she says something, tell her that it's my way of asking forgiveness for the fact that it was damaged in the first place. Since it's to stop me from going to Hogwarts that Dobby closed the wall, it's my fault. So accept, damn it!"

Harry was sorry to be a little snappish with Ron, but he could not help but being stressed.

In the past month, he had become accustomed to the almost constant presence of Sephiroth. The latter left him alone only when he went to the bathroom, or slept, and even then, he was always in the vicinity. Harry had been uncomfortable at first, not used to having someone always present, then, to his surprise, he quickly got used to it. He felt reassured when the silverette was there, because he felt that nothing could happen to him as long as he was there. But here, he had gone to talk to the Director again. The latter seemed to take pleasure in calling him randomly, and Harry was almost convinced that it was only a matter of time before he snapped and got angry with the Headmaster. He did not really want to be present when that happens, he was almost sure there would be blood everywhere if it happened.

Harry had just put his pouch in Ron's hands, using the surprise effect and insisting that his friend buy a new wand, when he suddenly felt like a hook had been pushed right behind his belly button, and that it was used to make it spin like a top. He was yank straight ahead in a swirl of colors and a hissing sound similar to that of the wind. And suddenly…

His feet fell brutally on the floor. He collapsed on something hard, completely unprepared, and felt something shatter beneath him. Cries echoed around him, and he felt his stomach drop. Oh no... don't tell him he was…

"FREAK!" The voice of his uncle roared, and he began to tremble. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

At Privet Drive, in the house of his uncle and aunt. Slowly, he raised his head, and saw the purple face of his uncle. Part of him had always hoped that he would die of an attack when he was like that, but it never happened. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aunt Petunia and Marge, both of whom looked as angry as Vernon, Marge almost the same color as him. A growl told him that Ripper was there too, even though he had not attacked him yet.

A violent kick brought his attention back to his uncle, taking his breath away. Vernon started punching him with his fists and feet, not even giving him time to answer. Marge also threw Ripper at him, and Harry counted as a blessing the fact that Dudley was not there. He would not have been surprised if he joined the festivities of beating him.

Tears began to flow silently down his cheeks. Sephiroth did not even knew where he lived in the summer, he could not come and save him. He had promised that he would look after him…

oOo

Sephiroth was just furious. Dumbledore was really starting to get on his nerves with his random interviews to convince him to let Harry go back to his uncle and aunt. The urge to murder was beginning to rise, and he was finding it harder and harder to resist. Voldemort was perhaps without a body, but if the news of the death of the old wizard spread, he doubted that the specter resists the desire to return to England and manages finding a new body.

He stopped in the corridor with an exasperated sigh, and rubbed his face to try to regain his composure. He did not want to scare Harry by returning to him while he was still angry. The poor child had already experienced enough suffering like that. Sephiroth ignored the whispers of the portraits, who watched him with a little fear, working to regain his composure. He felt that Dumbledore was cooking up something, it was obvious. The question was, what?

He was still thinking about it, lost in thought, when he saw a brown missile heading towards him. An alarm went off in his mind when he saw Hermione in tears, and he knew something had happened to Harry. He caught Hermione when she hit him, and remarked distractedly that she had an impressive strength for her age. Sobs prevented her from speaking, so he slowly relaxed his grip, before bending down and gently shaking her shoulders.

"Hermione, take a deep breath and try to calm down to explain what's going on."

The girl tried to calm down, hiccuping, but she could not stop crying.

"It's Harry... he's... he's gone! Ron…"

"He saw what happened?" Sephiroth asked, feeling the fury rise back to his previous level.

Hermione frantically nodded.

"I... I went up to the boys' dormitory," she sniffed. "I... wanted to give my phone number to Harry... so he could call me... And Ron said... he was gone... probably... because of a Portkey."

Sephiroth felt his aura escape control. If Harry had a single scratch, he was going to spread Dumbledore's bowels into his office. He did not even notice that the portraits were fleeing their frames in front of his fury, nor that the suits of armors followed the movement. He jumped, however, when Hermione's arms closed around his neck, surprising him. He would have rather expected her to flee. Reflexively, he closed his arms around her, and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. She too had always had the gift of calming him when he began to lose his temper. His emotions were everywhere, and he forced himself to regain his senses.

Quickly using a Wutaïean meditation technique to refocus, he regained control of his emotions. A calm mind was always sharper and more dangerous than an angry spirit, who was also quick to make mistakes. With one last breath, he gently pulled away from Hermione's embrace, almost calm. Keeping his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a slight smile.

"Don't worry, I'm going to rescue him."

"How?" Hermione asked, split between hope and anguish. "You do not even know where he lives!"

"Me no, Dobby, on the other hand…"

As if summoned by the mention of his name, the house elf appeared with a loud bang, wringing his hands.

"Dobby cannot feel Harry Potter, Mister Nightmare. Dobby doesn't know where he be sent…"

"Dobby," cut off Sephiroth gently. "Even if you can not feel him, you remember where his house is, do you not?"

Dobby froze, then his ears fell, clearly expressing his embarrassment and shame at not having thought of that.

"But the protections around the house will prevent Dobby from bringing in Mister Nightmare," protested the elf.

Sephiroth straightened gently with a predatory grace, his aura continuing to fluctuate gently around him.

"Let me take care of the protections, Dobby. I doubt they are in very good condition anyway. You just have to take me outside of them."

He felt Hermione pull gently on his sleeve, and looked at her. She handed him a piece of paper, which was marked with a series of numbers, and he recognized a phone number. He gently took the paper, and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry about Harry, I'll protect him."

Tears running down her cheeks, Hermione nodded.

"You will call me when he's safe? Or even my parents?"

Sephiroth nodded.

"You have my word. Now, let's go Dobby."

Dobby took his outstretched hand, and Sephiroth seized it without hesitation. Everything then became completely black; a very strong pressure exerted on all the surface of his body; he could no longer breathe, it seemed as if steel loops were encircling his chest; his eyes sank into their sockets and his eardrums seemed to stretch deeper and deeper inside his skull. Then, suddenly…

He took a deep breath, fighting against dizziness and nausea. He still preferred his own teleportation. Ignoring his own discomfort, he quickly looked around, checking the surroundings.

Nobody had apparently heard them arrive. Perfect. He motioned for Dobby to leave, as he activated his magic sight. And he swore heartily between his teeth. The house was literally saturated with spells, all of which were feeding from the same source, and he suspected it was Harry. He decided to focus on those who posed an immediate problem to him, such as the Blood Ward that was on the verge of collapsing. Getting to work, he began cutting the magic threads that supported the spells, dealing first with those who prevented people without magic from remembering the abuses committed under that roof. It was a good thing that he needed all his concentration to analyze the spells, otherwise he would have lost his composure a long time ago.

He had just dismantled a spell that prevented people from hearing what was going on in the house when he heard the cry of pain from a child. Fury invaded him, tinting his vision a sickly green, similar to that of Mako. Ignoring the rest of the spells, which would collapse by themselves once they leave this place, he teleported into the house in a cloud of black smoke, focusing on the presences he could detect through his Scan Materia.

He immediately intercepted the arm of a huge man, even bigger than Palmer had been. And not much smarter, he thought, rolling his eyes when his "opponent" tried to free himself by pulling his arm back. The purple color of the man's face reminded him furiously of the company's former executive. In worse, in every sense of the word. Sephiroth was not even unbalanced by the man's attempts to break free. And he was holding him with his right hand, which was not even his dominant hand.

"WHO ARE YOU!?" Vernon shouted, his face even more purple. "HOW DID YOU ENTERED MY HOUSE!? ARE YOU ONE OF THESE FREAKS!?"

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY ADORABLE RIPPER!?" Shrieked Marge, hitting him.

Sephiroth royally ignored Marge, not even feeling the blows she gave him. Masamune was planted in the dog's neck that was biting Harry at the moment he arrived. Eyes narrowed, he stared at Vernon intently, debating whether to kill him or not. A whimper from Harry made him realize that he was suffering, and the smell of blood was too much for him to ignore the distress of his protege. He clenched his fist, easily breaking his opponent's wrist, making him howl with pain and let go of the baseball bat he was holding. He then punched him in the face without hesitation, releasing Masamune, who disappeared automatically a few seconds later. Letting him crumble to the ground, he spun in a fluid motion, and punched Marge in turn. The shock of the overweight siblings falling down briefly shook the ground, and he turned to Petunia, Masamune materializing again in his hand.

She froze in front of the point of the sword, which grazed her cheek, and the feline eyes that looked at her with a cold fury. Sephiroth's eyes were glowing enough to make it visible in the middle of the day, and she swallowed, suddenly terrified. She had always called the wizards Freaks, even when she did not talk about her own nephew, but for the first time she realized she was facing someone who could deserve that name. Sephiroth pointed to the sofa with his free hand, his voice as cold as his aura.

"Sit there and don't move. As you can see, I'm not in a lenient mood. A misplaced gesture on your part, and I swear that at best, you will join them on the ground. Am I clear?"

Petunia frantically nodded, terrified. For the first time since her last meeting with Snape, she was facing someone who could kill, and especially who would not hesitate a single second to do it. Trembling like a leaf, she did so under the polar gaze of Sephiroth. She saw that the tea spilled on the floor was freezing, and realized that the drop in temperature was not just the result of her imagination.

Sephiroth turned away from her when she was placed behind the sofa, not daring to get closer, banishing Masamune. He was afraid of making a massacre if he watched them too long, and Harry needed emergency care.

The boy was surprised when his uncle started shouting at someone else. And the fact that he had talked about Freaks... did that mean... that Sephiroth was here? That he had found a way to come? Raising his valid arm that he had put on his head to protect himself, he risked a glance in front of him. His eyes fell on a long black leather trench coat, partly hiding boots that seemed to be of the same material. Above, long silver hair fell to the knees. Harry would have started to cry with relief, but could only let out a whimper when trying to move a little, his ribs and arm throbbing horribly. He heard a dry crack, like broken bones, before a fist obviously knocked out his uncle and Aunt Marge, if he judged by the earthquake that followed.

He barely paid attention to the arctic voice of Sephiroth, the pain becoming more and more intense. He hurt almost everywhere, but the worst was really his right arm and his ribs. In comparison, he had almost no pain on the belly. A hand rested on his shoulder, making him flinch, and in spite of himself he moved back. The hand, however, did not leave his shoulder, and he heard the voice of his protector, gentle and soothing when he spoke to him:

"Its alright Harry, I'm here now. You don't risk anything anymore."

Harry started to cry when he heard that. For the first time in his life, his prayers for help had been answered. He felt Sephiroth lift him gently, and he clung to his long coat without thinking. The silverette caressed his back gently until he calmed down, and gently put him on an armchair. Part of his mind panicked at the idea of putting blood on the Dursley's furnitures, the other side telling himself to go to hell. He had spent enough time like that being a slave to the Dursleys, and it was now over. He looked up at Sephiroth, blurred because his glasses were broken. Harry noticed that he seemed to be divided between anger and worry. He finally closed his eyes with a sigh, before opening his eyes and looking at him.

"I'll have to take off your wizard's robe, Harry. I'll have to call the police, and if you wear it, it may raise unwelcome questions."

The boy nodded bravely. Sephiroth felt the rage rise as he helped Harry as gently as possible to remove his wizard's robe. The boy had not even made a sound, just crying silently when he had to move his injured arm through the sleeve. What kind of monster teach a child to cry in silence? He had to fight his desire for murder by seeing Harry's condition. It hadn't taken him that long to rescue him, maybe a quarter of an hour at most, but they had managed to beat him seriously during that time.

He looked at the robe with a frown, wondering what he was going to do with it. Dobby appeared at that moment, drawing a shriek from Petunia. Sephiroth ignored her, and handed the robe to Dobby, asking him to clean it and bring his stuff back as soon as possible. But to wait until they can be recover without being seen.

He then patted Harry cautiously, trying to gain an idea of his injuries. The boy remained bravely silent, hardly flinching when Sephiroth's hands touched his fractures. The latter found at least three broken ribs, and almost certainly two more that were cracked. The arm was clearly broken, not even needing to examine it for that. Once his exam was done, he turned on his Scan Materia to check that Harry didn't have any internal injuries. He found only a few bruises, nothing dangerous, even in the medium term.

Reassured, he allowed his shoulders to relax. A glance at his back told him that Marge and Vernon were still knocked out, and Petunia had not moved from her place. He had to bandage Harry's leg before calling the police, or he would risk losing too much blood. He gently put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I'm going to get something to wrap your wound Harry, I'll be right back."

Harry nodded, and followed him with his eyes as he walked to the kitchen, avoiding looking at his Aunt Petunia, who seemed to be divided between terror and fury. He could almost feel her hateful look on him, but he didn't give a fuck anymore. After all she had done to him, her future didn't even concern him anymore. From his point of view, Sephiroth would be a much better guardian than her.

The silverette came back at that moment, and almost absently kicked Vernon's head, who was starting to stir. The fat walrus returning to the land of unconsciousness, he crouched again in front of Harry, posing the dishcloths he had taken next to him. Delicately, he easily tore the boy's pant leg, revealing the wound. Mopping the blood with one of the tea towels, he felt the anger burning at seeing old bite scars. Harry had told him about it, but it was another thing to see it. He ripped several towels in long strips, and wrapped them around the wound, taking care not to over-tighten.

Once the wound was bandaged, he took a towel and made a scarf, helping Harry to install his broken arm, to relieve the pressure. The grateful expression of the boy made him feel sick. Obviously, it was the first time someone had been treating him in his "family" after he was injured. Sephiroth wondered how he had managed so far. He closed his eyes with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. A brief meditation later, almost in control of his emotions, he got up and looked for the phone.

Thanking the Lifestream for knowing how it worked, he grabbed the handset, before marking a pause as he realized he did not know the policy number. Turning his attention to Harry, he gently asked.

"Harry, can you give me the police number please?"

The boy blinked, surprised, then realized that if Sephiroth knew at least the current technology, emergency numbers should not be part of the package. Timidly, he replied.

"It's 999 or 112. Both are easy to remember."

Sephiroth thanked him with a nod, dialing the number of an assured hand.

"Police office, what is your emergency?" Asked a male voice on the phone, sounding bored despite his professional side.

"I'll need an ambulance at… number 4, Privet Drive," Sephiroth said, repeating the address Harry gave him, who had picked up some colors. "I would also need police cars to arrest the family living here."

There was a blank on the other end of the wire, then a keyboard sounds, the operator hammering the keys at full speed.

"The ambulance is on the way, as are the cars. Can you explain the situation?"

"I have a 12-year-old, almost 13, who was nearly beaten to death by his uncle," growled Sephiroth, kicking Marge's head this time. "Another person, probably his uncle's sister, had sicked her dog at him. I dressed the wound as best I could, but I think I can say that he will need stitches."

"You're a medic?" The operator asked without interrupting himself, his tone incredulous.

"No, former SOLDIER, but I had to fend for myself on the battlefield when there were no medics at hand. I have some first aid bases."

While he was talking, Sephiroth had gone to get a long knife in the kitchen, and on his way back into the living room, he stuck it in Ripper's neck, making sure to hide the wound created by Masamune. He ignored Petunia's soft wails of disgust mixed with terror, straightening up to return to stand next to Harry.

"I... see," said the operator hesitantly. "Help is on the way, they should not be long now."

"Tell them to hurry," Sephiroth replied, looking coldly at Petunia, his voice unnaturally calm. "Because I don't know how long I will resist the urge to murder them."

He hung up before the operator could say anything, looking coldly at Petunia, who squirmed under his scornful gaze.

"That you didn't want Harry, I can conceive, intellectually speaking. That you don't like him… that can pass. But that you mistreat him? That you starve him to try to kill him? That, no, I don't understand or accept anymore."

Petunia opened her mouth furiously.

"We didn't want him! But this... this headmaster imposed him on us without even asking our opinion! He was a stone to our neck!"

"Of course," Sephiroth replied sarcastically. "A house of this size, you had to go into debt up to your neck to get it. I assume your husband touches unemployment and you aids, to have been able to pay it?"

Petunia paled.

"Just for your information, I was a General a long time ago. Despite the fact that all of my education was war-centered, I was not promoted to that rank at TWELVE YEARS OLD by being idiot."

Petunia opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to say anything. Finally, the words came out.

"Twelve years old? But no civilized country promotes children to the rank of General!?"

Sephiroth laughed softly, making her shudder.

"As far as I can see, your sister has inherited most of the intelligence. She did not tell you about me?" He asked calmly, tilting his head to the side like a predator. "I think she must have found the legends about me."

"What do you mean?" Petunia asked, shaking.

Sephiroth simply leaned in response, grabbing Vernon with his right hand, lifting him effortlessly. He dropped him on the couch, repeating the operation with Marge. The two had began to wake up, but he decided against hitting them to send them back into unconsciousness. He needed them to be awake to dig their own grave. Looking up at Petunia, he offered her a smile worthy of a shark, all teeth and malice.

"I'm not as… young as I look, Petunia Dursley. If your sister told you about me, before you stupidly rejected her for something that she has as much control over as she does her hair color, you would know who I am."

"Who are you?" Petunia asked, terrified.

Part of her already knew the answer, indeed. Lily had told her family about a legend so old that even wizards were unsure of its origin, unlike Merlin or Morgana. A legend murmured in the houses, whose mere mention made even the most powerful shudder. A legend about a silver-haired Demon, who wielded a long sword, and tried to destroy the world a long time ago. She was pretty sure it was him, but part of her wanted to continue to deny the evidence that was in front of her.

"Who I am?" Sephiroth repeated with almost malicious amusement. "I am Sephiroth Valentine. I am the Calamity's son, the Demon of Wutai. But above all, I am the Nightmare."

"That's impossible!" gasped Petunia, split between horror and terror. "It's just a legend, too old to be true! You can not be him! Even if it was true, he lived about…"

"About ten thousand years ago, I know about it," Sephiroth replied calmly. "There are different forms of immortality in this world, Petunia Dursley. Some are natural, like phoenixes. Others, like vampires, are the result of a curse. As far as I'm concerned... no, I'm not immortal. A madman injected me with the cells of an alien who fell from the sky long before I was born. This monster was still alive after 2,000 years in the ice, sealed by a race of humans called Cetras. Unfortunately, the people who exhumed her mistook her for one of them, and studied her. They wanted to use it to dominate the world they knew, unaware that it was only three islands, tiny in relation to the rest of the planet."

Petunia remained frozen, listening to it without being able to move. She hardly dared to breathe under his cold, impassive gaze. The ease with which he had knocked Vernon down, and especially the one with which he had lifted him afterwards, showed that he was telling the truth. Her husband was still too dazed to react, and the part of herself obsessed with cleanliness was hoping that he would stay still until the police arrived. She did not want her living room to end up covered in blood.

"He injected me with those cells while I was still in my mother's womb," continued Sephiroth, almost ignoring Petunia. "Then, at birth, they separated me from her, and educated me to be a SOLDIER. At twelve, they threw me on the battlefield. During the years that followed, I only knew war. The mere idea of peace was foreign to me. Then I lost my only friends. The madman who had injected me with these cells sent me on a mission where the monster was locked up. This... thing, which had been introduced to me as my mother, took control of my mind. And she made me massacred the whole village. There were only three survivors in total. And it was one of them who managed to kill me for the first time."

"For the first time?" Petunia repeated in a shrill tone. "But…"

"The cells of this monster are... resistant," Sephiroth replied with some bitterness. "And above all, they carry a form of consciousness. When I died that time, my mind broke. The five years that followed are not very clear in my memory. I know this thing... Jenova, restored my mind. However, she did not even bother to fully reconstruct me. If she had done it... I do not think I would have wanted to come back to life. The little she restored to me, however... wanted to destroy the world to take revenge for all that I had suffered. Because I was just a lab rat for them. Not even human enough to be treated decently."

He paused briefly as he felt Harry's hand take his. He turned his head in his direction, a little surprised, to see that the boy stared at him with sadness. It was not the first time he had heard him tell his story, but it hurt him every time. Sephiroth smiled reassuringly, though sadly. He then turned his attention back to Petunia, still in the same place.

"She made me want to take control of the Lifestream, where the souls return after their death. I died twice more because of her. One, in a fight in the heart of the Planet, literally, and the other, in the ruins of Midgar, destroyed by a Meteor whom I had invoked under her control. And it was only at my third death that she left me alone. Her mind dissolved in the flow of souls, and I was finally free. One of my friends who had died took the trouble to go in search of fragments of my soul, to restore it. You do not deserve to know what happened next, so I would only say that I lost my friends again, as well as someone who was dear to us. At my request, I was sealed in a crystal made of Solidified Lifestream, and slept."

"Until now?" Petunia asked fearfully.

"Until now," Sephiroth confirmed. "And do you know why I woke up?" He asked softly, his aura slowly spreading around him, making Vernon and Marge, who had woken up, freeze in place.

Petunia shook her head, not daring to answer. The smile that Sephiroth gave her almost managed to make her lose control of some very important bodily functions, and she clung to the wall behind her.

"I woke up because Harry begged someone to protect him. Do you have any idea of what can push a child to beg for a stranger to protect him? Many things. In any case, it is clear that you have not inherited much intelligence compared to your sister."

Petunia opened her mouth to protest furiously, only to realized that even if she was screaming, no sound came out of her lips. Sephiroth gave her a dark smile.

"Before you say something stupid about the fact that I have no right to do magic... it is a form of magic so old that the Ministry of Idiots has no way to detect it. To come back to what I was saying right before... you made a big mistake in mistreating Harry. Have you ever wondered how people like you could ignore the abuse of Harry? How could you mistreat him with impunity?"

Petunia forgot her silence, surprise. She had indeed asked herself the question when Harry had started school. The social worker who had come to the house had never responded to Harry's complaint, who had not tried to alert the authorities after the third or fourth time, realizing that it was useless and that it would bring him only blows. Even Vernon had never asked the question. Sephiroth shook his head, disgusted.

"You never asked yourself that, did you? Did you just take advantage of the situation, or did you wanted to avoid thinking that magic was the cause?"

The simple word made Vernon turn purple, but Masamune appeared in Sephiroth's hand, pushing him to remain motionless. He had not even looked at him, his feline eyes staring coldly at Petunia.

"Magic is responsible for that. A spell was affixed to the protections that covered this house, making non-wizards forget what was happening under your roof. And according to you, what was feeding the main protection of this house?"

Petunia paled again, her gaze passing briefly over Harry, before returning to the silverette. The boy was barely surprised by the revelations of his protector. Furious, yes, but not surprised. That explained a lot of things, indeed.

"Yes," confirmed Sephiroth, "Harry was feeding it. If you had treated him properly, I would have had trouble dismantling the Blood Ward on this house. But at the pace where things were going, I would not have been surprised that it collapsed by itself in the coming months. The only thing that allowed it to stand up was Harry's magic. All the spells on this house were fueled by it. If you had not made the monumental mistake of beating him, you wouldn't have seen him again, only to sign the papers entrusting him to my care."

Petunia snorted scornfully, before pointing at her throat. Sephiroth threw an Esuna with a languid gesture, his eyes clearly warning her that she had better pay attention to her words. Petunia flinched at the green glow that surrounded her briefly, before glaring at him.

"Do you think we didn't try to get rid of him? He always brought him back here!"

Sephiroth chuckled softly.

"You don't have magic. As far as I'm concerned... I destroyed the Blood Ward, which was probably the reason he brought him back here. He will never be able to make it take root again. If you had not beaten Harry, you would have seen us only once. He would have recovered the objects with a sentimental value for him, if there are any, and we would definitely be gone. But it's too late for that," he said, hearing the sirens sound far away. "You have sown the wind, and it is not the storm that you have reaped, but the hurricane."

oOo

The police officers stared at the scene in front of them in disbelief. On one side, they had a bloody kid, who was more or less curled up behind a tall, slender man with long black hair tied in a ponytail. Beside them, there was a dog skewered with a kitchen knife. On the other side, a skinny, bony woman was stuck to the wall, while a pair of obese walrus was standing in front of the couch, and shouting incoherent words to the policemen. Incoherent in the sense that they had no logic.

"THIS SILVER-HAIRED FREAK BARGED IN OUR HOUSE AND ATTACKED ME WITHOUT REASON!" The man bellowed.

"HE KILLED MY ADORABLE RIPPER WITH A SWORD OF ALMOST SEVEN FEET LONG!" The woman shouted at the same time. "AND HE THREATENS US WITH IT!"

"Silver hair?" Repeated, skeptical, one of the policemen. "They're black."

"A sword of seven feet? It's a kitchen knife," objected his colleague. "And you can tell me where he would have hidden it? Or how would he have transported it?"

There was a blank, and the two people looked at the man, who had not moved a centimeter, his expression scornful. The kid behind him was shaking like a leaf. They then began to cry in chorus at the policemen.

"HE CHANGED APPEARANCE! HE HAD SILVER HAIR JUST BEFORE YOU ENTERED!"

"Of course he did," said the first policeman, sarcastically. "Fred, lets bagged them, they are clearly psychotic."

"With pleasure, Sebastian," growled the second. "Guys, we let you help the kid, we take care of the two crazy ones."

"Good luck with them," mumbled one of the emergency doctors. "You'll have a hard time chucking them in your car."

"Fortunately we came with two cars, we would have screwed up the axles otherwise," Sebastian grumbled.

"If you need a hand, I'd be happy to help you," said the man without uncrossing his arms, continuing to monitored both people like an eagle.

"We should be good," said Fred, pulling the handcuffs, before frowning, looking at the man. "It's going to be too short," he mumbled, and he pulled out another pair.

Quickly tying them to each other, he then handcuffed the fat man, serving him the usual speech when he arrested someone. He paused, realizing the man had his wrist broken, and decided he didn't care. According to the operator, the kid would be twelve, soon thirteen. Except he had the physique of a skinny kid of about 11 years old. A glance around him showed many pictures of a fat kid, who looked a lot like the walrus. But no trace of the terrified kid in front of him. Okay, there was something really wrong in this house.

"Dan, can you take the guy's evidence please?" Sebastian shouted while pushing the fat sister in front of him, who was furiously protesting her treatment.

Nobody paid attention to what she was saying, anyway. He contemplated a moment the taser, but then they would have to drag her into the car. Two other officers came to help them, and they managed to fit them into the vehicles. Fortunately, the skinny woman (probably the wife) came without resistance, seeming to realize that they were running out of patience.

Dan shook his head at the sight, sickened. He then turned his attention to the jet-black haired man, who had abandoned his watchful posture and squatted next to the kid. The latter had finally calmed down when the walrus siblings had been driven out of the house, and, if he seemed uncomfortable in front of the doctors' attention, looked a lot less stressed now. He shivered as he crossed the strange eyes of the guy who seemed to want to protect the boy. His eyes were vaguely like those of a cat or a snake, with their strange vertical pupil. That would explain why they had called him Freak anyway. It was probably a birth defect, he thought. Dan decided not to comment on it, the poor guy must have heard a lot of comments already about it, and it had little to do with their case.

"First of all, you should take a look in the cupboard under the stairs, and in the upstairs bedrooms," said the man, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You might find your discoveries… enlightening."

Dan was surprised by his words as his voice, grave and calm. There was something in his tone that made him listen. Quiet assurance, and a dull anger, contrasting with his professional, almost cold appearance. Something told him that they were lucky that he seemed to have such control over himself, or they should have called the undertakers.

Intrigued, he complied, deciding he could wait a bit to question him.

When his gaze landed on the cupboard in question, he asked himself serious questions about the mental health of the occupants of the house. Who puts three locks on a cupboard for household products? Unless it isn't about protecting what's inside... but preventing it from going out. Frowning, he opened the bolts... and was speechless in front of what he discovered inside.

A camping bed, with a thin, dirty foam mattress, with traces looking suspiciously like blood, on which was placed a threadbare blanket. Other signs showed that a person had lived in this closet for a long time, like the words scribbled with colored pencils on the steps: "Harry's room". He felt a cold anger invade him, and closed the door, perhaps with more force than necessary. Standing up, he took the stairs to take a look at the rooms. Something told him that he was not going to like what he was going to find there either.

He paused in front of the door of what was probably the first room. He blinked, his eyes passing from this door to the next. The second door of the floor, on the same side, had at least SIX locks. He felt sick again when he saw that. Taking out a notebook from his pocket, he began to write what he had seen so far. Between the state of the kid, the multiple photos of what was to be his cousin, and the cupboard under the stairs that had clearly served as a room until recently... there were already incriminating charges against his "family".

Opening the door of the room, he remained silent before the state of the room. There were toys everywhere, some clearly overpriced. No book, though. He looked at the room for a long time, noting that the kid inside had to be rotten to the core. Leaving the door open, he went to the next room. He would have expected everything, but not that. In addition to the locks on the door, there was a cat flap at the bottom. What could it serve for? One would almost say a flap to pass food to a prisoner.

Opening the door, he blinked in disbelief. It looked a lot like the first room, in the sense that there was an unspeakable mess, but it was the only thing in common between the two. In this second room, all the toys were at best in poor condition, at worst completely smashed. He even saw a television disemboweled in a corner, next to a large birdcage, and a camcorder out of use on a pedal-powered tank. A twisted rifle was on a shelf. The only things that looked in good shape were the books on the shelves.

The bed was also in poor condition. Unlike the room next door, it was clearly cheap, and let's not talk about the blanket, barely in better condition than the one in the cupboard. The desk against the wall was not outdone, one of the legs of the chair had even been replaced by a broken baseball bat!

He closed his eyes, pinching his nose. It was even worse than he had expected when he received this call from the central office. How was it possible to treat two children so differently? He did not dare to imagine the blond kid. He must have been horrible, and if he trusted the pictures, he must be barely older than the kid on the bottom floor! He breathed deeply. Something told him that he was not going to like what the boy was going to tell him either.

Descending, he noticed that the guy who was protecting the kid had the phone to his ear and was talking to someone.

"Mr. Granger? No, we never spoke to each other, but your daughter had to write to you about me. Yes, my name is Sephiroth Valentine. Hermione was hoping I would call her to tell her about Harry's condition. "Okay" is exaggerated. He was sent back to his uncle's house in ways that they did not like, and they beat him. I am currently at his home, the cops took his uncle and aunt into custody. Oh, I doubt they will get out. And if they do, I would make it my case. Yes, in the final definition. There are limits to my tolerance. In any case, I called you to find out if you could help me. Let's say… that Harry has no money on him, and unfortunately, me neither. No, he has the means, from what I know. His family is old and rich, as I understand it, but he does not currently have access to the money."

The man paused, nodding.

"I think Harry will still insist on paying back your expenses. He is like that, yes. Very well. Yes, I'll call you back when we're at the hospital to tell you the name. Thank you."

Dan noticed that the boy (Harry) seemed extremely embarrassed by what was going on, but he said nothing. One of the emergency doctors got up at the same time.

"Well, we did everything we could on the spot, we'll take him to the hospital. I guess you will stay with him?"

Sephiroth, who had hung up, put the handset on its base, turning to the man.

"I am his bodyguard. As long as he is not with people I consider reliable, I will not let him disappear out of my sight."

The way he'd said that made an icy chill run down everyone back, except Harry, who looked reassured. Sephiroth gently helped the boy to stand up, supporting him to walk. Dan noticed how much Harry seemed to depend on Sephiroth. If he judged by the condition of the child, he had been mistreated until recently. He had probably met the former soldier not long ago, and he had probably agreed to serve as a bodyguard when he saw his condition.

The cop shook his head with pity. He would have almost taken the family who lived here in pity, but they had clearly dug their own grave. A misplaced gesture, and they would end there, literally.

And he realized that he literally didn't give a fuck. If there was one thing he hated, it was the people who abused helpless children. It was even worse when it came to their own children. A sadistic smile escaped him. Even in prison, criminals had certain standards. Child abusers and rapists generally had a very short life expectancy. Something told him that the two walrus might have a short sentence... and not because the judges would be lenient.

To be continued…

* Evil cackle *

Hey hehehe… the Dursleys finally got what they deserved! It was time!

Don't worry about Vernon, his fellow prisoners will take care of his case *sadistic laugh*- Fumseck_73

*joining in evil cackles*-Dragonqueen909