AN: So... Let's begin by clarifying some doubts. Harry will mostly NOT be cannibalising those he fucks... well, let me qualify the statement. He will not be eating those in his harem... well, he will be eating them, but in a different manner, wink wink ;)
Then... What else? Yeah, look out for names. Characters who have been named have higher chances of survival.
Last but most important, if I was asked to assign this fic a theme song, it would most probably be Amon Amarth's Live for the Kill. Check it out, and I fully expect you to headbang to some kick-ass death metal. Alright, now, on with the little chappie.
Time: When Harry is Sixteen
The German Head Auror stood in front of the massive prison of Nurmengard, sighing stressfully as he ran his hand through his short-cropped brown hair, squinting to stare up at the dark castle with all its mysterious towers and corridors and halls. Despite the bright sunlight that prickled the back of his neck, and the sweat rolling down his forehead, the foreboding prison of Nurmengard remained in shadow, as if a mysterious charm was sewn into its walls, undetected despite all the thorough testing conducted into its construction.
Or maybe it was the sheer charisma and aura of the legendary location, a feeling familiar to the experienced Auror, that accompanied all great wizards. He guessed it derived a large part of it from its prisoner, a charismatic powerful wizard, indeed, able to bend half of the world to his will through words alone.
Herr Franz sighed again, slipping his wand out to cast a few cleaning and cooling charms on his robes. Why was it even so hot up here in Germany in October?
He would rather return to his hometown of München for das Oktoberfest, than partake in this craziness that the Deutsch Zaubereiministerium, in cooperation with the ICW, had forced upon him.
He trudged upwards, using his hand to shade his eyes as he climbed up the little grassy mound, heading for the grand entrance of the castle as he mentally reflected on the recent events that had thrown the entirety of Europe into turmoil.
All the nations of mainland Europe, from all the way north with Sweden, Iceland and Finland, to Germany and France, and in fact, every single nation save the United Kingdom, were on high alert.
All thanks to a mysterious wizard going by the name of 'Der Stalker'.
Who was he exactly? What did he look like? How old was he? How powerful was he?
Nobody knew. The best idea anybody had was the same as the worst, which meant that they had zero idea at all about the above questions, though they could make guesses.
However, according to Franz, the guesses were completely useless, as they mostly depended on the barest minimum of evidence available, mostly depending on the logic of the massive array of investigators working on the case.
They had thrown the entirety of the European continent, both Magical and Muggle, upside down in search of the Stalker, but had come up empty-handed. It was as if he came from nowhere, like a phantom, and disappeared into thin mist.
He had a bounty of five hundred thousand galleons on his head, half the Gringotts account of the average wealthy pureblood family, and it was only increasing by the day.
Franz just shook his head at that. He was wanted alive or dead, with a shoot on sight order. Bounty Hunters and Hitwizards had joined forces with the Aurors from all nations to scour the countries, leaving no stone unturned, but to no avail.
What made him even more terrifying, was his eerie knowledge of everything. It seemed as if he had eyes and ears everywhere, all over the entire continent.
Whenever anyone made any effort to deny the Stalker, perhaps insulting him in some private conversation or doing something that he viewed as an insult, the Stalker went to work, living up to his name.
The offender reported seeing shadows everywhere, as if everything was going dark, captured in an eternal night. And even under high security, they eventually went mad from paranoia, before disappearing altogether.
The Stalker was a fearsome foe indeed.
It had all started a few years ago, relatively small time. The occasional wizard turned up missing here and there, mostly small no names who lived alone, Muggle Borns whom nobody cared about, homeless, destitute wizards or witches, the like.
Then, he started hunting for big prey. The first big fish to fall was the feared Count Pyro, the head of a Vampire clan who specialised in all sorts of pyromagic. One of the most feared personalities in the world had gone out for a regular stroll in the Muggle world, and had never returned.
Initially, he had been reported as missing, and nobody, neither the Vampires nor the wizards, found any hint of him. It was as if he had just vanished off the face of the Earth.
Then, the big fish started vanishing with increasing frequency. Four more Vampire Counts disappeared, leaving all the Vampire clans except two without leaders. Entire Veela covens started disappearing off the map, Veela covens from which entire teams of Aurors could not return, simply wiped off the face of the planet, all thanks to the efforts of a single wizard... or witch.
The fairer sex could never be underestimated, and judging by the anonymity the Stalker maintained, it was very probable that they were a woman. However, for convenience, they always mentioned the Stalker as male, partly due to social prejudice, partly because... he had no idea.
The Head Auror's expression turned grim. Over the last year, several hotshot politicians and Masters had turned up missing, sending red flags to all the respective Ministries. What was especially worrying was that this serial killer was powerful enough to take down Masters, who had complete control over any particular field of magic, who were leaders in their respective subjects. And the politicians had been sent into a tizzy, fearing for their own life and sending out Aurors to lay down their lives while they hid behind the secure doors of their office in the Ministry. Not that it did much help, several politicians had wound up missing from their very offices.
Not that the missing Masters offered any indication as to the Stalker's true strength. They might have been targeted simply as a power display, nothing more. The Stalker might have been powerful enough to fight them head-on and kill them, which was unlikely because they would have known if a big fight had broken out. What was more probable was that the Stalker used his already established stealth skills to ambush them, catch them by surprise and subdue them... which told nothing about his strength, leaving them in the dark about his true capabilities.
The last nail in the coffin had been the disappearance of the Headmaster of Durmstrang, who had also been the Second in Command of Gellert Grindelwald.
Although the case was the best lead they had, it was equivalent to no lead at all. Apparently, the Stalker had disguised himself as a first-year by the name of Stefan Yarmolenko. A few of the students had conversed with him, too, describing him as a timid, shy boy, plain and short, only cementing the skill with which the Stalker camouflaged.
Imagine their parents' horror when they learnt that their child had talked face to face with a wanted serial killer, marked public enemy number one in most of Europe.
Still, they did not have any clue as to his identity. He just snuck wherever he pleased, and disappeared without leaving any sign.
This was the most troublesome bit.
Honestly, Franz would have taken a Dark Lord over the Stalker anyday. The movements of a Dark Lord were predictable, their whereabouts were generally known, and Dark Lords rarely showed their own face, mostly opting to let their followers do all the dirty work.
The Stalker did everything by himself, as far as anyone knew, he had no allies, and his movements were entirely unpredictable. What made him even more frightening was the knowledge that he could be anywhere, and nobody would have any idea. He could sneak into a high-end Ministry ball, and nobody would be the wiser that there was a wanted serial killer in their midst.
Franz sighed, a cold, foreboding shiver running up his spine, quite unwittingly, as he was faced with the open yard of the Nurmengard castle.
He had already made his will, and kissed his wife and children goodbye before he embarked on the job. He would have handed in his resignation, too, the moment he had been assigned to this job, but it was only his sense of honour that prevented him from choosing the coward's way out.
The moment the ICW had announced that they would be increasing security at Nurmengard prison with heavy Auror presence in the castle, Franz knew, that they had willingly signed away the lives of all of them to the Stalker.
He felt grateful to Albus Dumbledore, the Supreme Mugwump had been the only one to resist the motion, realising it for what it truly was, a suicide mission. Let Grindelwald die, protecting the Dark Lord at the expense of innumerable lives wasn't important. Nor was potentially catching the Stalker.
But it had been in vain, despite the Hogwarts Headmaster's best efforts, they had gone ahead with it anyway. Franz could not help but feel grateful anyway, for the old wizard's compassion and efforts for the welfare of the common wizard.
The newspapers had carried it on the front page, basically telling the Stalker that the ICW believed that he couldn't break into Nurmengard to attack Grindelwald. It was basically a challenge.
And they had come up with a cunning plan, indeed. Franz had to hand it to them.
There were eighty Aurors, from all the countries of Europe save England, assembled in Nurmengard.
The German Head Auror couldn't help but feel a tad resentful against the United Kingdom. For some reason, the Stalker avoided the three nations of England, Ireland and Wales like everyone there was suffering from a contagious disease.
And the English Ministry of Magic was reluctant to extend any help to the nations that suffered under the shadow of the Stalker, fearing that they would incur the wrath of the Stalker and break the bubble of protection he had bestowed upon them for whatever reason.
Others had argued that it was only a matter of time before the Stalker turned his sights on the magical population of the UK, but Cornelius Fudge, the incompetent Minister of Magic refused to acknowledge any looming threat, obstinate and stubborn in pretending that everything was alright.
Well, to be honest, magical UK had had Voldemort to deal with, too, so Franz guessed, he couldn't really fault them for burying their heads in the sand. Albus Dumbledore was the only one trying to spread awareness. The Ministry was hell-bent on preventing any word of the Stalker from even escaping to the public, the reason that he might take it as an insult.
As a result, the common magical population of UK, to a great extent, was ignorant of the serial killer rampaging in the rest of the continent.
Franz felt a little spark of hope ignite in his heart as he stared at the twenty Aurors shuffling nervously, standing at attention in the courtyard, displaying just a small portion of the might they had amassed to finally bring down the Stalker.
"Attention!" He called out, stepping into the courtyard and watching with satisfaction as all of them immediately stood ramrod straight, people from all countries of Europe, none of them giving any hint of discomfort, despite the guaranteed fear in their hearts, as Franz scanned them with stony eyes.
His eyes briefly lingered on the youngest of the bunch, a young rookie Auror from Serbia, according to his ID, who looked as if he had just graduated from school. The young man might have been anything between sixteen to thirty, thanks to the weird ageing every magical had, with long, silky raven hair tied back into a messy man bun. Although Franz had little reason to doubt his experience, judging from the single ice-cold emerald eye, and the eyepatch covering his right eye, he could not help but sympathize with the young-looking wizard, who had probably been forced into joining the suicide mission in the absence of any volunteers.
He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement to the assembled soldiers.
"You have your orders." He spoke strictly, not elaborating any further. "You will be relieved at 15:00 hours tomorrow."
Immediately, the twenty Aurors broke off into ten pairs silently and efficiently, before disappearing stealthily into the Nurmengard prison, their feet making barely any sound.
Franz smiled grimly, marching to the maws of death he knew awaited him inside the castle, with his head held high. He could only trust that the sixty experienced Aurors hidden in various locations throughout the castle would do their job properly.
Harry was bored out of his mind as he followed his teammate, a Russian Auror, their steps deliberate and silent despite the cold stone floors, wands drawn as the two of them moved like professional well oiled team who had trained together for many years.
He had briefly considered slaughtering all of them, including the sixty Aurors he knew were hidden in alcoves and shit all across the castle, hidden under various charms. He could smell them, despite all the magic, their emotions leaked through, strong and indicative of their presence every time he passed one of the ambushes.
He could just kill all of them. But it would unnecessarily complicate things, increase chances of reinforcements arriving, and it would send the wrong message. He wanted the public to fear his stealth, and for that, he needed to sneak into Grindelwald's cell without anyone noticing. The Dark Lord had been in his crosshairs for quite some time, this 'extra security' thing just made things easier.
He briefly considered killing his teammate and hiding the body, but reconsidered it. He needed to get the key to Gellert Grindelwald's personal cell, that the German Head Auror, Franz something, carried on his person, and the self-imposed no killing rule just complicated things.
Well, he needed to be patient. Patience was the key.
A bead of sweat rolled down Harry's forehead as he gripped his wand tighter, all for appearance's sake.
They had been given a map and callsigns and passwords, and every team knew where they could come across the other team. It was all very systematic and organized, if the second team even had a thirty-second delay, or missed the callsign or password, they would be called in.
It was a good plan that the ICW had concocted, if Harry indeed had gone with his initial plans of sneakily taking them out one by one, or even if he had posed as one of them. The fact is, he did not pose as one of them, for all intents and purposes, he was one of them, with them since the plan was conceived, and there when they had been briefed.
They probably hadn't expected that he would, or could, create a fake Auror ID just to sneak into the mission. They had probably thought he would take out one of them, and pose as the person he had taken out.
Well, tough luck.
Harry tried to suppress the smile tugging at his lips, trying to maintain his composure and reinforcing his Occlumency shields to not give anything away.
They had to pass two more teams, and climb three flights of staircases. Four corridors before the entrance to Grindelwald's tower, they would come across Franz, and Harry would have to swipe the key then.
They would stumble across another team, then, when they passed Grindelwald's tower, he would knock out his teammate. His briefcase was in locket form, hanging from his neck. He had a bottle of magical blood inside, he would take it out and spray it all over the walls to give the impression that he had been attacked, and had died fighting.
After all, the Stalker always left lots of blood and never a body.
Then, he would unlock the entrance to Grindelwald's tower, locking it behind him before he climbed up the stairs. Since all the doors were heavily charmed so that they could not be broken, even if they discovered something amiss earlier than he anticipated, they would be held back due to the lack of keys. Then, at the top of the tower was Grindelwald's personal cell.
Even if everything went south for him and he was discovered trying to swipe the key from Franz, Harry would be forced to kill the Head Auror and his teammate. Hopefully, things did not come to that.
But even if they did, he would still have at least twenty minutes to execute his business before the Aurors managed to enter Grindelwald's tower.
The main bunch of keys was separate from the lone key that Franz carried, probably another security measure, hidden in the soil beneath the Mandrake plant in the office underground. They had probably thought that the Mandrake's screams would alert them if the keys were in any danger.
But Harry had taken care of that when the two had been patrolling the area. The key to Grindelwald tower rested in a back pocket in his black robes, and the next shift would find the Mandrake as it is. A little business trick that Harry had picked up.
He would enter the tower, change in the staircase, something which shouldn't take much time with the aid of magic, and then, as the Stalker, would enter Grindelwald's cell.
Harry couldn't help the smile threatening to break out on his face at the meticulously crafted plan.
It was forty minutes, four human interactions and three flights of staircases later, when the two stumbled across Franz, patrolling his route by himself, four corridors before the entrance to Grindelwald's tower.
"Charlie reporting, sir!" Harry's Russian teammate shouted, prompting him to follow suit, albeit more subdued, "Delta reporting."
Franz returned their callsigns with his own, "Alpha Bravo. Password Mandrake."
"Password heavy metal." The two, one Auror and another impostor, returned, Harry briefly having to wrack his brains to recall the password. Every meeting had different passwords, just another thing that made Harry be grateful for changing his plans.
"Report," Franz asked, walking closer to them, slightly cautious.
"Nothing out of the ordinary, sir!" His Russian teammate shouted with sickening enthusiasm, making Harry's stomach churn in repulsion.
After a few more words, they nodded respectfully to each other, the three going their separate ways.
Harry smiled creepily, raising the simple, plain silver key he had nabbed from Franz, watching how it glinted in the light. A simple wandless magnetic charm at close range ensured he got the key, which had been charmed so that it couldn't be summoned, and then, it was a simple affair to replace it with the duplicate, a simple sticking charm doing the trick.
Nobody noticed anything amiss, his Russian teammate not even looking back as they continued patrolling, leaving Harry to openly admire the key to his ambition.
Deciding not to fool around anymore and take unnecessary risks, the Potter son slipped it back into his pocket.
He followed his teammate, ignoring everything else, the sound of his heart thumping too loud for him to hear anything else, barely struggling through all the other shit he had to endure.
There. The unassuming door to Grindelwald's tower, just one of many similar doors scattered throughout the castle.
Shit.
Harry stiffened minutely, almost imperceptibly, speeding up just a tad bit to keep pace with his Russian teammate as he tried his best not to act suspicious. The keys in his pocket suddenly felt too heavy, his heart thumping even louder than usual, not out of sheer or anything, but out of sheer excitement and anticipation, the rush of adrenaline he got from dancing right under the noses of the people hunting him.
His nose had picked up the smells of Aurors hidden in ambush right outside the entrance to Grindelwald's tower. Shit. What to do, what to do?
He could not attack them, that would just be counterproductive... or he could attack them, and modify their memories... yeah, that would do.
He felt the smile on his lips widen as he tightened his grip on the borrowed wand.
Grindelwald stared at the headlines on the front page of Der Tagesprophet, more precisely at the news detailing increased security for him. Apparently, a serial killer was ravaging Europe currently, managing to even kill off his old Second in Command, who had switched sides at the last moment and had gone on to become the Headmaster of Durmstrang. It served the bastard right, Gellert thought, making him scoff at the thought.
Although, to be fair, in his current condition, he doubted he could make it out if der Stalker indeed found his way inside his cell, and if he was even an above-average wizard, such was the extent of the fall of the once feared Dark Lord.
He sighed, staring out of the small window morosely. He had been hearing the footsteps of the Aurors patrolling around the tower since morning, to the extent that he had tuned out the noise. It had been a welcome change from his monotonous life, but now, it was the same as every single repetition.
The lock to his cell clicked open, making the emaciated Dark Lord turn to look at whoever dared to enter his prison cell. Was it the Auror in charge of the entire operation?
The grey metal door slid open, making Gellert's eyes widen a tad bit, before an insane grin broke out on his lips.
The man dressed in all black, with a similar black mask on his face, entered, his boot clicking against the cold stone floor of the cell as he shut the metal door behind him. There were no signs of any fight, no sounds that the Dark Lord had picked up, nor any signs of damage, exertion or pain that the man displayed, hinting at the fact that he managed to just sneak past all the guards... an impressive feat, Gellert had to admit.
"Stalker. I assume you are here for me?"
The tall man stared at him, his mask giving nothing away.
"Gellert... Grindelwald." His voice was like the typical villain, not the smooth voice Gellert possessed. It was scratchy and deep, and the words were spoken slowly, as if it physically strained the man to speak. A soft white mist escaped his mouth as he spoke, not unlike one's breath on snowy winter mornings, the black mask moving with his jaw to reveal his mouth.
He observed the man closely, trying to discern any and all information that he could glean from appearance alone.
Long, slightly messy raven hair that stuck out in all directions... hair that reminded him of Charlus Potter of all people. Two personalities, so different, yet so similar. The mask seemed to have some sort of mechanism that allowed the lower jaw to move, much like a normal human face, parting every time he spoke to emit some mist. The man's breathing was ragged and audible, every single breath a wheeze that somehow only added to the intimidation.
Now that he observed closely, Gellert could make out sharp, gleaming white triangles along the open-able mouth of the mask, supposed to be fangs that interlocked together whenever his mouth was closed. White stripes were visible on the black mask, breaking the continuous expanse of dark. It was similar to the stripes of a white tiger, just with reversed colours.
The strangest thing was the fact that the mask had only one eyehole, revealing only the right eye of the man, which was the strangest eye the emaciated Dark Lord had ever seen, a black sclera with a red iris, the same shade as the Cruciatus curse.
The man was wearing a black t-shirt and black trenchcoat that reached to his knees, with a silver-studded leather belt holding up his skinny black jeans, ending in black combat boots. One of his gloved hands clutched a smart-looking grey briefcase, as if he was here on some business matter, while the other hung limply by his side.
Gellert tried to extend the conversation.
"Herr Stalker, sehr nett dich kennzulernen." He greeted cordially in German, not knowing the man's mother tongue.
The Stalker just continued to stare at him with the single, cursed eye of his, shining with a manic, bestial intelligence, standing still, like a snake waiting in ambush.
"Step Two. Complete." The man wheezed out, a smile almost visible on his lips despite the mask, completely ignoring Gellert's greeting, as if one of the most feared Dark Lords of all time was beneath his notice.
"Step two?" Grindelwald laughed. "Who do you think-"
He could not finish the sentence.
Probably because of the missing head.
AN: Harry's sneaky! Next chapter, Albus Dumbledore gets involved in the Stalker mystery.
Also, tell me, what is your favourite genre of music? If I had to choose... it would probably be death metal, no matter how much I like Sabaton. What's yours?
Keep calm and headbang!