Disclaimers: As much as I may want to claim ownership of this famous series, I can't because both Harry Potter and Prototype belongs to a whole lot of different companies that I can't remember the names of at the moment. Any characters that appear in this fic that is not a part of the original series, belong to me so don't take them without asking first.
Word Count: 1,425
Marriage Law Rejection Letters
Letter #92
Submitted By: Phoenix Paladin
Requested by: TerrorPain
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Edmund Balkridge scowled as he stalked towards the Muggle-side entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Ever since the Dark Lord had almost conquered Wizarding Britain, only to be stopped by that Potter bitch of all people, security had been upgraded immensely inside the Ministry. No more Floo'ing, no more Apparating in. Employees had to approach from one of the three entry points; the Muggle speaking radio, whatever they bloody called it, a public toilet or the one he himself was walking towards, which was in the stockroom of an underground bar.
This wasn't right. Wizards should be ruling the pathetic vermin that were Muggles, but instead stuck hiding like vermin themselves.
Catching sight of a local Muggle newspaper, Edmund at least gave a dark chuckle at the front page. A Muggle-made, non-magical Curse that had gone rampant in the Colonies.
So deep in his thoughts as he vaguely spied the bar he needed, Edmund never noticed the shadow that approached the mouth of the alley entrance he was about to cross until he was dragged in. Fury at being manhandled became shock at the sight of what occurred right in front of him. Which quickly became pain.
"Next."
…
"Next."
…
"Next."
…
"Alright, go on through."
A brisk nod was all the Auror got as Edmund Balkridge continued through to the Atrium and towards the lift.
"Ah, Madam Crawford, looking forward to another busy day?"
A head turned back to espy the mentioned Director, as a wand was fingered thoughtfully.
"Hold the lift!"
As one last body shuffled into the (thankfully) expandable car, a wand aimed itself straight at her hip.
The barely breathed whisper "Imperio," was lost amongst the clamour of coworkers greeting and chattering with one another.
"Ah, Crawford, how goes the search for Miss P- Balkridge, what are you doing?!" Minister Chippler began, only to interrupt herself when Edmund Balkridge walked in behind the misty-eyed Director of the Regulation of Magical Marriages Ministry Department and proceeded to not only lock the door magically, but silence the room.
Blinking rapidly, Crawford gazed around the office she found herself in, confused. One moment she'd been in the lift to her Department, and now she was in the Minister's office. Chippler noticed her confusion, and quickly came to the horrifying conclusion that Balkridge had Imperi-
"I'm sorry, but Balkridge isn't here at the moment," 'Edmund' said, before his robed body was momentarily covered with black, red and grey feelers that retracted to show someone in 'jeans', a 'hoodie' and a black leather jacket.
"But I can leave a message," Alex Mercer, the Blacklight virus codenamed Zeus, coldly finished. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew an envelope that was tossed onto the Ministers desk. With a glare at the shocked leader, he said, "And if I see a single wand or hear a single peep," he flexed his arms at his sides and clenched his fists before spreading his fingers. The same tendrils that coated him earlier reappeared, thickly coating his arms from shoulder to the newly sprouted two-foot claws that replaced his fingers, the dull grey material shining with sinister intent in the lamplight.
Shaking hands picked up the envelope slowly, retrieving the letter within and unfolding it to read.
'Dear Minister, Department Head or whoever.
Who the hell do you think you are. I walked out of your shitty world to get away from this kind of bullshit. I mean, seriously, you wonder why there're more Dark Lord's coming from Britain than anywhere else? Take a good long look at yourselves and the fucked up laws you make and think. Though I suppose even if I were to spell it out, you wouldn't get the picture.
In any case, I've been in New York the last few months. You've undoubtedly met my boyfriend, despite this letter being meant for owl post. Alex, if you're still there, you're on your own for food for the next week.'
A brief pause as Chippler risked a glance up at Alex, just in time to catch a twitch in his eye. A muted grinding brought her attention to the 'thumb' of his right hand rubbing against the neighbouring index. Swallowing, she returned to the letter.
'Before you ask, yes; this is Alex Mercer, the same guy who tore up New York with a Muggle made supervirus that, and we have tested this extensively with cooperation from Alex and various corpses around the place, cannot be detected by Magic, so far as we know. You've probably seen Alex display his shapeshifting. Consider it a permanent Polyjuice that can be triggered. I'd say Metamorph, but the difference between the two is that Metamorphs always have their own original signature while Polyjuice mimics the targets'.
So my boyfriend is quite capable of, and willing to, walk in through the front door, abduct, kill, consume and replace whosoever he chooses, assassinate his target, and walk out again.
Oh, did I mention he gets everything from the people he consumes? Including memories and magical ability.
So, unless you want to suddenly become the Minister of a ghost world?
Leave. Me. The fuck.
ALONE.
Nicolea Potter
To be Mercer if I have any say.'
By the end of the letter, Minister Chippler was pale, sweating and shaking, as was Crawford. Though in Crawford's case, it was because Alex had her head in a caressing cage of claws. She could feel the strength the being holding her life had, and believed the letter immediately. Thus, compounding with the blank stare he was giving the letter, she came to the obvious solution.
"Minister, may I request that Miss Potter be taken off the Registry? Permanently?"
"Granted," Chippler answered immediately, watching as Crawford went limp in relief as Mercer lifted his hands away, before saying, "Now, Mister Mercer, if you could please inform Miss Potter that-"
The door swung open as Delores Umbridge stormed in, only to pause at the sight of Alex Mercer, his claws out, with a shaken and horrified Crawford and Chippler. The pause didn't last long.
"AUR-GUHRHK!"
Umbridge tried to call for the Auror's, only to find the clawed left hand of Alex Mercer buried deep into her gut. With a disgusted sneer on his face, he turned to the paling and greening women in the office, "Consider this your future if we're bothered again with this shit," before hauling and throwing the Toad up into the air while swinging his free arm around in a circle.
The result was Umbridge hitting the floor in multiple pieces from the angle of his claws carving their way through with barely any resistance, splitting bone with the ease of a knife through a fresh loaf of bread. Intestines, organs and blood splattered out through the grevious wounds separating her body.
Swallowing the bile back, Minister Chippler choked out through the door to the newly silent room beyond, "Auror Carsen, please escort Mister Mercer outside the Ministry. And get someone in to clean this... spill."
Alex merely smirked coldly.
"So... you think they... got... the message?"
Nicolea panted as she gazed down at her boyfriend with lidded eyes.
"Yeah, I'd say so," replied Alex, a breathless chuckle entwined with his words before he pulled her back down for a kiss. A squeal in her throat told him she liked what he'd just done lower down.
Hey, as a supervirus, he may not need human food, but her cooking was too damn delicious to give up without a fight.
Author's Notes:
This latest Marriage Law Rejection Letter update was recently submitted to my review box by Phoenix Paladin. Thanks for the submission. If anyone else has any letters they want to submit, feel free to send them in. lol
Notes from Phoenix Paladin: The following is a crossover between Harry Potter and Prototype, and is inspired by TerrorPain, so a shout out to them, please!