Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Harry Potter; if I was JK, I'd have been too ashamed to publish that piece of crap that was HBP to ever show my face in public again.
A/N: I'd like to thank all those who took the time to review my new story. Someone commented on the fact of Harry being evil; now that I think of it, maybe he is a little, but not Voldemort-evil, just, well, Normal Person-evil; he won't be killing innocents, just those he considers as enemies.
Chapter 2 – Departures, and a long awaited reunion.
Once upon a time, in the magical hovel know as the Burrow (more of a run-down shack, but whatever), lived a family of red-furred creatures known as the Weasleys. They ate a lot, worked occasionally, and didn't bathe very often (not nearly enough, if the smell in the house was any indication). Lately, the creatures had acquired a new companion, a brown-furred creature with what looked like a squirrel's teeth, which smelled of mould and other old stuff. Out of all these repulsive creatures, there was one that was particularly loathsome; his hair was redder than the rest, he was so hideously ugly that he could cause people to lose their lunch, he managed to shed more fur than a dog, he had the eating (and bathing) habits of a swine, and he had the stupid habit of spending hours on end on top of a flying stick, somehow ending up covered in mud, and not washing afterwards. His smell must've been so offending, even to the other creatures, that the only time water touched his bloated body (that's what happens when you stuff your face in every meal with ten pounds of food; he still offered the excuse that he was a growing boy, after all, he was definitely growing, to the sides, that is) was when the others forced him to bathe.
Analysing the habits of the filthy creatures with which she was forced to co-habit, Hedwig was less than pleased at her current situation. She didn't mind their presence before, even if she didn't really like them; but one day, her master disappeared, and she was forced to live with this band of stupid humans. Being unusually perceptive for an owl, she was able to pick on the fact that they now disliked her master. It was bad enough having to share their living space, it was bad enough having to smell them, but when it came to Harry-human, they crossed the line! It was her human, and he was better than all of them together! He was strong, they were not; he was friendly to her, these ones had the audacity of treating her like some common animal! He gave her food and treats; these ones didn't bother with owl food, not even for the irritating ball of feathers, or even the Ancient One! That one was old, far older than any of her kind Hedwig had ever met, and these low bred worms had no appreciation or reverence for the noble bird! They dared mock him and make joking comments about him, even when he took it upon himself to run errands for them, despite his age!
So, they had to resort to hunting. Hedwig, along with the bouncing ball of feathers, refused to allow the Old One to hunt for his own food; as their elder, the younger owls would feed him, as was proper.
To top it all, the smelly apes expected her to serve them. Not a chance. She would only serve these apes if Harry-human told her to, and she'd be doing it reluctantly. Now, the Fat Smelly approaches. Carries something in his hand, and is calling for her in an improper manner, expecting her to abide to his wishes. Suddenly, Hedwig's body jerks, and she starts staring fixedly at one point in the wall, but appearing to be able to see beyond the wall. She waited a long time for this, for the familiar call of her master. A strange glint entered the snowy owl's amber eyes. She'd rejoin her master very, very soon. But first...
Ronald Weasley was not a smart person. Everyone who knew him, save for himself, acknowledged this. He was just lacking in intelligence; he was born that way, and did nothing to improve. There were four things that Ronald Weasley liked: Food, Quidditch, money, and people who praised him, in that order. He stuffed his face every chance he got, so now, instead of looking tall and thin, he looked tall, but also had a bloated body, like one sees in drowned corpses; he liked Quidditch, so everyday he spent several hours on a broom, deluding himself that he would one day be able to play professionally, and he needed to practice (he was unemployed, since his grades weren't high enough to allow him to work on the ministry, and he wouldn't accept what he called lesser jobs); he liked money, so he borrowed from either his businessmen brothers, Fred and George, or from his fiancé, Hermione Granger, who got a position of researcher on the Department of Mysteries; and since he constantly needed people to praise him, he kept himself around either his family, or the few members of the Order who gave a shit about him. However, despite all these character flaws, the most blatant one was not his gluttony, his jealousy, his greed, his laziness, his parasitic lifestyle, or his deficient hygiene; the most obvious, the most blatantly obvious was his stupidity.
And that's one of the reasons one could find the great Ronald Weasley, one sunny Friday morning, around eleven-thirty a.m. (he'd just got out of bed), bleary-eyed and on his pyjamas, without his wand or any form of backup, insulting a creature that not only utterly despised him, but also possessed a sharp beak, and very, very sharp talons.
"Oy! Get down here you ruddy bird! It's time ya earned your keep! I won't put up anymore with an owl that doesn't do its work!" screamed Ron, spit flying everywhere. The owl was looking down on him, and would have laughed in his face if able to do so.
"Get down here and take this letter to Headmaster Dumbledore right now!" screeched Ron, in a voice that sounded surprisingly like his mother's. "I don't have all bloody day, you damn bird! Either take this, or there's no food tonight, you hear?"
Ron was about to continue to enunciate the several reasons Hedwig should obey him, and how busy he was, when he saw the owl trembling and turn her head sharply.
"What's this, then? You havin' an attack or sumthin? Just die, then, see if I care! And your owner'll follow ya soon, if I've anythin' to say 'bout it!" So busy was Ronald Weasley ranting and complaining, that he failed to see amber eyes focus on him, and Hedwig looking at him like she usually looks at the mice she hunts. While its true owls aren't generally dangerous, they're still birds of prey. They hunt, and the talons they sport shouldn't be taken lightly, so, common sense dictates that one does not insult a proud, furious owl, especially if one cannot defend oneself. Unfortunately, Ronald Weasley was only capable of realising by himself how to breathe and how to shovel food into his gaping maw; anything beyond that, and he had to take orders from higher intellects, and was therefore unaware of the danger he was in.
Hedwig swooped down from her perch, diving towards the surprised face of the great Ronald Weasley. She latched herself, one talon on his nose, the other on his fat cheek, and started to bite out Ron's left eye. It came out after only three attempts, but the owl wasn't finished with Ronald Weasley yet, no sir! She spent several more seconds scratching and biting him, and it seemed she'd only be satisfied when Ron looked like Mad-Eye Moody. Ron started screaming like a little girl as soon as Hedwig dove at him, and was jumping and flapping his arms around like a little fairy, trying to get the murderous owl off of him.
Hedwig heard something outside the room they were in, probably some apes coming to see what Smelly's feminine screeches were about. Satisfied, and having taken her revenge for herself and her master, she took flight, pausing only to look at Pigwidgeon as if to say "Take care of the Ancient One." Seeing the little owl's solemn nod, she flew away from the Burrow. Her master was back! She would see Harry-human soon!
Harry, his back turned to the prison-fortress, stood atop a small, barren hill that allowed him a good view of the rest of the island. He closed his eyes and smiled, as if the artic wind that blew across the island and the freezing rain that started to fall pleased him. the grey clouds that hung permanently over the island were getting darker, and a few moments later, a thunder sounded not too far away.
"A storm. They are frightening, fierce and destructive, yet, in their wake, change follows. And changes are not necessarily bad, are they?" asked Harry, seemingly talking to himself, as if he was as crazy as the other residents of the island. Looking up at the lead-coloured sky, he said, "A storm is over this island, as it soon will be over all of wizarding Britain." Looking to his right he asked "A good omen, don't you think?"
A swirling cloud of smoke came out of thin air, and a lioness appeared next to him.
"What I really think is that you spent too much time here. When you start channelling Trelawney, that's where I draw the line!" replied the lioness in what would've been mere growls to anyone else.
Harry chuckled, and said loudly, "RIGHT! Time to leave this gods-forsaken lump of rock. Coming?" he asked as he started walking to a boathouse at the edge of the cliffs that made up most of the Azkabanian coast.
"I don't have much choice, do I? Enjoy yourself, Sekhem." The lioness disappeared again, but she wore what appeared to be a smile on her feline face.
David Williamson was an auror, not the best, but also not the worst. He was just average, but took pride in being levelheaded and brave when danger arose, just like any other self-respecting Gryffindor. But, as he heard the door of the boathouse being smashed in and looked at the person who did it, he couldn't repress a shiver as he stared into those green eyes. He didn't know whom they belonged to, but the long filthy hair, the beard, and the pale, thin frame clearly labelled him a prisoner. Not a common prisoner, though, for a common prisoner would not have been able to lift him off the floor with one hand, nor would a common prisoner be able to throw him across the boathouse, smashing through the opposite wooden wall in the process. But David Williamson didn't register any of this; even as he was thrown through a wall, and over the seventy ft tall cliffs, all he could think of was those burning eyes.
Inside the boathouse were a couple of bunk beds, one of them occupied. The man who had been sleeping jumped at the sound of the wooden walls being smashed through, but before he could even get off the bed, Harry grabbed him by the collar of his nightshirt, lifted him up, and smashed him headfirst through the boathouse's floor. Considering that half the boathouse was hanging over the precipice, suspended by magic, logic dictated that someone crashing through the floor would end up either smashed into a pulp on the rocks below, or, in the best of chances, end up in the freezing water, and only then, thrown against the rocks by the strong currents, and smashed into a pulp. Of course that was just what Harry intended, so it was fine by him.
Harry remembered being brought to the island through this boathouse. Soon, he spotted a trap door on the floor, and opened it. A magic-powered lift placed there was used to bring people in and out of the island. It must've been spelled to activate as soon as someone stepped in, and Harry slowly descended to the base of the cliffs. Stepping out of the lift, he found himself on a small stone pier. The storm was really becoming quite fierce, but Harry noticed that the waves seemed to die and flatten around the pier and the little boat secured to it. He remembered being transported in this very same rotting piece of wood, and he certainly hoped the boat was enchanted too; otherwise he'd be swallowing a lot of water real soon. Jumping inside the small floating...thing (it really didn't deserve being called a boat), he wondered what to do, when he remembered that the aurors that brought him to prison activated it by voice. He hopped it would work likewise for the trip back to land, and that it didn't need a password; cursing himself for not thinking of it earlier, he realised he no longer had any live aurors in the island to interrogate. Well, there was one still alive, but the chances of him talking about anything anytime soon were as likely as Snape washing his hair.
"Hum. Take me to land?" To Harry's joy, the boat started moving out into open sea. The floating contraption was barely able to seat four people, and was falling apart, no matter how much magic was poured into it; Harry briefly wondered if they recycled Hogwarts' boats to use here. Shaking himself out of thoughts about Hogwarts (usually they evolved, and ended up with a cloudy red sky, Hogwarts in flames, crumbling to dust soon after, and the head of one Albus Dumbledore on a pike in front of the gates; in Harry's imagination, Dumbledore's severed head always had its mouth open, with its tongue dangling, and that always made Harry laugh like mad), Harry thanked the Powers that be for magic, otherwise the twelve foot waves would pulverize the piece of shit he was travelling in. As it was, the boat barely shook, and he enjoyed a rather smooth ride.
It was so dark, that half an hour later all Harry could see were the giant waves surrounding him, and that only when lightning crossed the skies. Therefore, he was totally unprepared to be thrown out of the boat ten minutes after that, onto a rocky beach. Harry got up and ran, so he wouldn't be swept away by the waves. The storm wasn't so bad where he landed, and he could see lights in the distance; he started walking, intent on finding a shelter from the rain. There was a small patch of trees separating the coast from what he presumed to be a little fishing village. As he made his way through the woods, he noticed a nearer light; there was a small, lit cabin there, but Harry didn't stop. 'Probably fishermen, waiting for the storm to end so they can return to work.' thought Harry, not wanting to disturb whoever was inside.
He turned around, however, when he heard the cabin's door being opened. A man stepped outside, holding a lantern. No, not a lantern, but a lit wand! Harry crept silently behind the unsuspecting fool.
"What're ye doin' here, then?" bellowed the man, turning towards the beach, trying to spot whoever arrived in the boat; the recording system in the cabin indicated one passenger had arrived "C'mon, ya dolt, stop wastin' me time and get in! Ye must be barking mad to travel with dis weather!" Still not seeing anything, he shouted once more, "C'mon then! Wassamatter, dementors got yer tongue?"
"Something like that!" whispered Harry in the man's ear. The man jumped a foot in the air and whirled around to face Harry, who promptly sliced his throat open with claw-like hands. Harry stepped over the dead wizard and approached the cabin's door, trying to listen to signs of anyone else inside.
"Stan? Come on, the stew is getting cold! Best to eat it while it's hot and before some hungry Azkaban bastard arrives begging for food!" Not hearing a reply, he called again "Stan?"
"No, Harry." answered a cold voice. There was a man at the door! The state of his clothes and his appearance made it quite clear exactly where he came from, and he was certainly not on guard duty! He grabbed his wand to fire a curse, but the wizard at the door had already closed in on him. The anonymous auror felt a sharp pain in his chest, and looked down to find the wizard's arm inside his ribcage. Had he been able to look at his own back, he would have seen that the other wizard's arm had completely skewered him, and that Harry's clawed hand was holding his still beating heart. The auror started choking on his blood, and fell with a look of shock. Harry removed his arm from the auror's thorax with a wet popping sound, still holding the man's heart.
"Eat this with your stew!" said Harry tossing the heart into a plate filled with rabbit stew. "Maybe it'll cheer you up! You look a bit...disheartened!" Harry roared in laughter at his own joke, and decided to use for a while, since its rightful occupants were indisposed. He went to the bathroom and immediately stepped into the shower, where he stayed for nearly two hours, washing away three years of filth. He did away with the beard, but decided to keep his hair long, after all it helped conceal his damn scar; not from the public, but from himself, he didn't want to have to look at that every time he looked in the mirror. He burned the robes he had been wearing, and set out to look for some serviceable clothes; none were available, except for some shabby brown robes and a torn black cloak. Grabbing the dead auror's wand, he transfigured the rags to the best of his ability into normal jeans and a black sweater; it would have to do for now. He casually took in his surroundings, and his eyes lit up when he spotted a broom! He lifted and examined it. A Comet 260, old, but in relatively good condition, it would help him move around until he figured out some magical means of transportation. He thought irritably that he could have already learned ho to apparate, if not for the fact he had been thrown into prison. Oh, well, he'd worry about it tomorrow, for now, he just wanted to dump the bodies somewhere and get a good night's sleep; the clock on the wall marked seven-forty p.m., but Harry had a long day.
However, before Harry could dispose of the two corpses, he was interrupted by something streaking through the door and nearly bowling him over. Harry was about to slice open this new threat, when he recognized with a start his first friend.
"HEDWIG?" shouted Harry elated.
The white owl hooted happily, and started circling the young wizard, covering him in feathers. Human and owl were together once again.