DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter.

When Hunting Monsters

Chapter 6: New Lodgings

The Dark Lord was beyond furious. After killing Bones he had taken a trip to Romania to meet with the vampires, only to return back to Britain to find that Potter had escaped, and had killed his best , most faithful lieutenant along with five other deatheaters. He was lucky in that 4 of the other deatheaters he had killed weren't very important, simply fresh recruits. Thorfin Rowle however, was a loss that would hurt him. The man had been a skilled dueler, and a valued follower.

"Crucio!" He screamed again, and twisted his wand. The deatheater merely twitched at his feet, blood dribbling out of the eyeholes and bottom of his mask.

'Dead then. A shame.' Thought Voldemort.

"Come Nagini, I have a lovely hot meal for you." The Dark Lord hissed from his place at the head of the Malfoys' table. His chair was turned away from the table so he could more easily torture and watch the man in front of him.

The Malyfoy's dining room bore a sharp contrast to their dungeons. Where the dungeons had possessed a chilling cold, the dining room blazed with warmth emanating from the ornate fireplace at the end of the room. Magnificent marble statues of dragons with folded wings climbed their way up the sides of the mantle, soared with wings outstretched above it. Where the dungeons had been dirty and hard with their stone floors and walls, the dining room was plush and soft with the polished oak walls and floor, the coat of a chimera, different tails included lied in front of the fireplace. Where the dungeon had been bare the dining room was decorated with heads of various magical creatures adorning the walls. A griffin here, a unicorn there. Even the huge, horse like but reptilian head of a sea serpent could be found. A stuffed Augury sat perched atop a cabinet containing expensive artifacts. Its inky black- green feathers gleamed in the firelight and its beak was open as if still warbling its mournful cry.

Lucius was still in Azkaban, but Voldemort would have taken the head chair at the grand, opulent table anyway. After the man's failure Voldemort wasn't keen on expending any effort to break him out of the prison, but he knew that eventually he'd need too. Too many of his followers were rotting there, and despite their incompetence, it was always helpful to have greater numbers on one's side.

The deatheaters didn't dare look away as the great snake slithered to the body at her master's feet. They knew it would be cause for punishment should they display their squeamishness. Narcissa covered her mouth with her hand, choking back a gasp as the serpent began unhinging its jaws, squeezing them around the deceased deatheater's skull. The boy, Draco, looked like he was about to vomit.

Voldemort got up and turned around, placing his hands on the table, long white fingers outstretched.

"What's wrong Narcissa? Imagining your dear husband in his place? I must admit, it is a possibility; my anger at his ineptitude has not lessened. Maybe it would serve as motivation not to fail me. Such a thing is clearly needed." Lady Malfoy's expression changed from revolted to horrified at the cruel implications coming from Voldemort's high, sinister, and serpentine voice.

Yaxley cleared his throat.

"Oh yes, my apologies Yaxley. Go ahead and bring in the prisoner you mentioned. I'm in the mood for some entertainment. I'm afraid Nagini's snack wasn't very satisfying. The curse broke the pathetic fool in less than ten minutes." A few of the death eaters chuckled.

Yaxley got up, pushed his chair in and exited the room, his expensive cloak swishing around him. The echoes from his dragon hide boots could be heard as he made his way down the corridors.

"While we're waiting, I'd have you send for Greyback, Macnair. I have a task for him" The man suppressed his groan from his place near the other end of the table, but Voldemort heard it emanating clearly from his mind.

He laughed, "Yes, the wolf is unpleasant, but he's much more efficient than any of my followers sitting here at this table can claim to be. You all have your riches, your pure blood and traditions that you seem to feel grant you superiority, yet you fail to accomplish the most simple of tasks!" To punctuate his anger he sent a silent reducto at the dead deatheater's leg with a jab of his wand, careful not to hit nagini. The leg exploded, spraying blood, flesh and bits of bone all over the room, painting the walls, floor and table, along with some of the closer sitting deatheaters. The once pristine unicorn head was now speckled red with blood, a chunk of thigh had landed skewed on its horn like a kebab.

The deatheaters all looked down at the table, glaring. Voldemort could feel resentment and shame coming from them.

'good' he thought.

"What purpose is there of being from noble stock, when your competence is surpassed by that of a dirty half-breed? How is my vision to be realized when I can't even trust the best wizarding society has to offer to guard a mere schoolboy? " He stared each of them of them in the eyes one by one. Draco looked down at the table, his blonde bangs covering his face and hiding his fear from view. Voldemort raised his wand to curse him.

"My Lord, I beg forgiveness!" Alecto Carrow threw herself on the floor, prostrating herself in front of the Dark Lord. "The brat killed my brother, I'll see him dead, and prove my worth!"

"Crucio!" The squat, ugly witch twisted on the floor screaming. Voldemort flicked his wand, and the curse ended, the screaming stopped. "Lord Voldemort does not forgive. See to it that all of you prove yourselves to me or you'll find yourselves in fates worse than what I delivered upon Madam Bones!"

The deatheaters who had been with him on that trip shuddered, whispering amongst themselves what Voldemort had done, how Bones had begged and pleaded for death before their Dark Lord had granted it to her.

"Be on your way Macnair! My patience grows ever limited." He waved his wand and Macnair was thrown out of his chair, sprawling onto the floor. Humilitated ,the deatheater got quickly to his feet and made to depart. The lips partially hidden by his dirty gray streaked beard curled in a snarl at the jeering deatheaters. Voldemort sat back down in his seat, facing away from the others. They'd watch the events to come unfold from over his shoulder.

As Macnair reached the door to the hallway, it was thrown open by Yaxley, who marched in and yanked a chain. A figure attached to it by a collar came stumbling in, his short, portly stature unable to keep up with Yaxley's long strides. The fat, brown haired man was dressed only in a pair of torn, dark green trousers, with no shoes or socks. His belly jiggled as he tried to keep his balance. He let out a starteld yell at the sight of Nagini filling her stomach with the deatheater, the blood slick on the wood floor, and the gore coating table and walls. Yaxley brought the man to his knees in front of Voldemort, and torch light in the Malfoy's dining room illuminated the man's round flabby face.

"Well, Mr. Fudge, what do you have to say for yourself?" The Dark Lord hissed menacingly, his red eyes contracted into fine angry slits, and his thin lips curled into a scowl. His snakelike face was a mask of terrifying fury.

"I-I-not my-please don-" The portly man stammered. His brown hair was soaked in sweat which dribbled down his face and off his quivering chin.

"SILENCE!" Bellowed Voldemort, waving his wand sharply. An invisible backhand slammed into Fudge's cheek, sending a few of his teeth flying, and knocking him on his ass. Voldemort stood up, striding over to Fudge to tower above him, a monolith of rage. The fire in his eyes and the glow emanating from his alabaster skin was only matched by darkness of his robes.

"I gave you explicit instructions to do whatever you must to remain in office." Voldemort said coldy, His high sibilant voice soft and threatening.

The man started to again stammer an excuse, which died as the Dark Lord directed a glare into his eyes.

"Lucius left you with plenty coin. You could have bought more than half of the families' votes, you could have used me to threaten them. You could have done many things, so why is it that Scrimguor, an auror, sits in the office of the Minister of Magic and not you?!" It was true that with Bones' death the Dark Lord had a puppet of his in her place, and that greatly increased his influence in the Ministry, but he would have had almost total control if Fudge was still in office.

Fudge started trying to speak again.

Voldemort placed his foot on the pathetic man's throat with great pressure, a calculated lapse of control in his terrible frigid rage. Fudge gasped, trying to remove the Dark Lord's feet with his hands.

With a disgusted grimace Voldemort flicked his wand and the man's hands turned red and started smoking. Fudge bleated a struggled cry of pain and let go.

Voldemort removed his foot, and the ex-minister let out a torrent of wheezing coughs.

The Dark Lord turned his back on the fool, directing a smirk at the deatheaters, who besides Narcissa and Draco, grinned in return.

"I have no more use for you minister, " He said the term mockingly, "and I'm afraid I can't let this transgression go unpunished. How am I to know that you've not begun to take Dumbledore's council and turned against me, giving up your position willingly?" Voldemort knew that was unlikely, but it was amusing to watch the man panic.

"I haven't! I would never be-cough- tray you!" The portly man was attempting to crawl towards Voldemort now.

"Why would I believe anything you have to say? Abeo tu Insectas!" The Dark Lord shouted, spinning around and waving his wand in a complicated pattern over the desperate man. He hadn't really needed to voice the spell, but Voldemort had always been a performer, borne out of a desire to prove himself and for others to recognize the talents of a half blood orphan.

Fudge stopped his crawling and stared up in fear, before looking relieved as nothing had yet happened. After a few moments his expression of relief changed to a grimace of pain as he grabbed his stomach, howling in agony.

His hands moved away as he fell onto his back from his kneeling position, and the deatheaters saw spots of skin where the flesh was being raised up, as if something was attempting to poke out. Suddenly a pincer burst its way through the flesh above Fudge's belly button. The body of a scorpion followed it, wriggling out of the man's stomach, leaving a slimy trail of blood and guts as it plopped onto the floor. Fudge let out more anguished screams as a multitude of bubbles soon appeared in the skin covering his ample torso. One by one they popped, and a horde of insects crawled out. Once they made their way out of Fudges body the spiders, scorpions, and centipedes would began to feast on the poor minister. A scorpion crawled up to his right eyeball, digging a pincer in. Fudge thrashed and convulsed as a centipede wormed its way into his nose.

The deatheaters and the Dark Lord watched in rapture as Minister Fudge was devoured from the inside and the out. There were bugs in both his eyes now, his nostrils, wriggling into his ears, burrowing into his flesh where they could not find orifices. The sight lifted Voldemort's spirits slightly, but he was still so angry. Fudge's scream began to become muddled as spiders filled his throat, biting and tearing with many little fangs at his vocal chords. The Dark Lord found himself inspired by the beauty in front of him. Gears began to spin rapidly in his mind, making connections, perfecting a grim idea. Potter would pay for refusing him, for the death of his Bellatrix. He would soon set plans in motion to see to it. Oh yes, Potter would pay dearly. The boy would come to regret the choices he had made.

Scatching on the balcony's glass door distracted Dudley from the book he had been reading. He put it down and got up from the desk.

"Hold on, hold on," he muttered, making his way to the door, before realizing the sound was coming from the other direction. He turned around, and spotted his cousin's snowy owl on the balcony, flapping its wings, and pecking on the glass. He slid it open and the owl flew through, stopping to perch on the dresser. Dudley felt something brush past him and saw footprints in the soft carpet before the cloak he had become familiar with was thrown off, revealing Harry. Dudley was startled at his appearance, he had already seen the tattoos and Harry's increase in size, but now the boy looked like he had been through hell, his cheeks gaunt, and shadows underneath his eyes. His black hair hung lankly to his shoulders. The dark robes he wore were torn and crusted with dry blood.

"Hey there Dudley," Harry grinned. The grin made his face appear even more skeletal. Dudley found it menacing. "Glad to see you've found comfortable lodgings." Harry walked around the room, examining the décor. He opened the bathroom and whistled incredulously. "Merlin, Dud how much money did you spend?" Dudley blushed.

"Well there was quite a bit in the trunk. I figured I'd at least find a nice hotel cus I didn't know how long I'd be waiting for you. I thought you must be dead after the first few days, and was thinking about where to go before you sent your owl."

"Ah sorry about that, I found myself in the company of deatheaters. The men who attacked Privet Drive and killed your parents." Dudley blanched. Harry was sitting on the unused bed now, staring at Dudley, who walked over and sat on his bed.

"How did you escape? Did you kill them?" Dudley's mind had been bent in fury the last week, desperate for revenge, but not sure how he would go about getting it from someone who could turn him into a cockroach, or end his life with the wave of a stick. Part of him felt disappointed that Harry taken the chance from him.

"I killed a few. Unfortunately, I didn't get the one who killed Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. He tortured me one night, and bragged about imperiousing a bobby to do it. His name is Yaxley. Ugly, blunt, looking bastard. The imperius is a curse that controls someone's mind by the way."

"I know I've been reading your books."

Harry looked up surprised. Looking around the room he noticed his spell books were on the table, the dresser, opened on the nightstand.

"Why didn't you kill him?" Dudley sounded angry.

"Didn't see him when I made my escape. Voldemort must have sent him off on some mission." Harry was still wondering why Dudley would bother reading books on magic.

"Did you at least get the one who killed your godfather?"

"Oh yes… with the chains she strung me up with, I choked the life from her." Harry's eyes darkened as he reveled in the memory. Dudley was disturbed; he hadn't really wanted to know the details. He was even more disturbed that Harry seemed to take so much pleasure from the memory of her death.

"So what do we do from here?" He changed the subject.

Harry rubbed his face, deep in thought for a few moments. "Well I can't stay here. Too expensive, and I need to be someplace closer to Diagon Alley, the wizarding shopping center. I need to be able to go back and forth from Gringrotts, and if I need to buy things. We're too far away now."

"Are we going after this Yaxley person?"

"We? No offence, but what are you going to do against a deatheater, a wizard highly skilled in the Dark Arts?"

Dudley looked down. "Well I just thinking… magic can do so many things, I don't see why there can't be some way to, I don't know, make me a wizard. And even if there isn't I bet I can fire a gun faster than he can shoot a spell."

"You've got a point there, the problem is that he'd kill you before you could even pull it out."

"Make me a wizard then."

Harry just stared at Dudley like the boy was out of his mind.

"One does not simply make someone a wizard. Either you're born one or you're not, I'm sorry, but that's just how it is."

"Those rituals though, they make people things. They made you an animal didn't they?"

Harry looked angry, like he was about to yell, before he deflated, shoulders sagging.

"I was already an animal, the ritual just brought it out." He got up from the bed and picked up the book sitting on the table, it was the compendium.

"Now that I think about it, there may be something in your idea. Most of these rituals require that a person already possesses magic to work. There is one, designed for a muggle. The runes act like a shield, bending magic cast around the person they're inscribed on. They use the magic from spells being cast at you to work, so they don't need you to have magic of your own."

"Would it block the killing curse?"

"You have been reading haven't you? No it would not. It probably would not be able to protect against any powerful magics."

"Well that's pretty useless then."

"I suppose. There are references in here though, to other rituals from different cultures. You have to remember that this book is limited in that it only includes magics of a Celtic origin. It makes a point however to describe their history, and that some of the ideas are borrowed from creations of more ancient cultures. The ritual I went through, for example, takes concepts from what ancient wizards used to create the original werewolves."

"Werewolves were created by wizards? One of your books said they're people infected by a magical disease called lycanthropy. "

"According to the compendium the original werewolves were created for war, out of muggles that served their wizard masters. What their creators didn't anticipate is that the curse would be transferred through the werewolves bite. Many such creatures were created through the experimentation by wizards. Thestrals, vampires, and centaurs would be good examples. "

"So you think you could find some way to make me a wizard?"

"Maybe not make you a wizard exactly. I definitely wouldn't find such a thing in any bookstore. There's only place of I can think to look for that kind of knowledge."

"Where is that?"

"We're going to have to take a trip to Grimmauld Place. My godfather's ancestral house. There's a library there with books dating back thousands of years."

"How are we getting there?"

"We'll fly I guess. We're going to need to buy a few things first, and find a more permanent location." Dudley looked sick at the prospect of flying.

"Oh yes that reminds me." Harry took a potion out of his robes and gulped it down. "If I'm going to be doing magic on you, I'm going to need to be untraceable."

"What was that?"

"A potion to keep the ministry, and through extension Voldemort, from tracking me. Hopefully the snake wasn't lying and it will really do what it's supposed to. Otherwise we're fucked."

The first order of business for Harry and Dudley was finding a more permanent place of residence. Harry had borrowed some of the clothes Dudley had purchased over the last week to appear more normal. Not surprisingly, with Harry's increase in height and size they were much less loose. In fact the arms of the shirt and the trousers were a little too short.

After much searching they had found a seedy little apartment for rent near the leaky cauldron. It was on the top floor of the building and overlooked a dark alleyway. The mean old landlady had offered a ridiculously high price but Harry had haggled with her, not feeling up to taking any of her bullshit. Her wrinkled face looked like she was sucking on a lemon as they settled on something more reasonable for the rent. She stalked out of the door, a rat scuttling by her feet as she opened it.

"Harry, this is disgusting." Dudley was fingering the moth eaten drapes covering the grimy window. The drapes were splotched with some weird greenish stains. He opened the window and let Hedwig in, who'd been following them all day.

"But it's perfect for our plans." The shitty apartment reminded Harry of the shrieking shack, except with gray mortar instead of light brown wood.

The couch Harry was sitting on was covered in dust and mold. Springs stuck out of it in random places. There was no telly, or even a radio. The small living room had a kitchen at one end, a door to the exit of the apartment, leading to the stairs, and a small hallway containing three doors for two bedrooms and one bathroom.

Harry got up, and walked over to the door of the first bedroom.

"We're definitely replacing the mattresses." Dudley came to look inside. The mattress looked like it had been ripped apart, and was exuding a foul odor. By appearances it was actually rotting.

"We'd have money to do it now, if you hadn't spent it all on your hotel room and your clothes. Luckily we've still got plenty of wizarding money. You couldn't spend that." Harry glared at Dudley

"Look I'm sorry alright, I didn't even know you were coming back."

"Whatever, it doesn't matter now. We'll go shopping , but we need to go to Diagon Alley first to get some muggle money."

"Won't you be recognized?"

"Hmm you're right; Voldemort will probably have people looking. Dumbledore might too, and I'm not ready to go wherever he's planning to send me for the rest of the summer. But they won't see me if you're the one doing the shopping. I'll be under the cloak." Harry grinned evilly. Dudley gulped.

"But-but I don't have any wizards robes. " Harry walked back, and pulled his ragged deatheater robes out of the trunk he had left by the door. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and flicked it over the robes. The color changed to blue. He flicked it again and the holes and tears disappeared. His nonverbal charms were getting better. Harry handed the robes to Dudley.

"See if those fit. Hopefully they do because I don't have much experience with tailoring charms. I think I left a wand or two in the inside pocket."

Dudley pulled them over his head, and they constricted his chest. "Just a little tight, but I'll live." He reached into the pocket and pulled out a wand. It was short, and of a grayish color. There were several chips and dents in the wood, and it gave off a dark, corruptive feeling. Dudley figured it was the wand of a deatheater Harry had killed.

"There you go, look like a proper wizard now. The only people that could possibly recognize you would be the few that you've met, so just keep the hood up."

Seeing Diagon Alley was definitely a remarkable experience for Dudley. Only in the land of dreams had such things as flying broomsticks, goblins, and bubbling cauldrons been possible, and the Dursleys greatly discouraged such dreams. He felt Harry poke him in the back.

"Keep moving, and for the love of God would you quit gawking at everything like an idiot? You're attracting attention. " Dudley blushed and closed his mouth, noticing the wizards and witches who had been staring at him.

"Here stop, this is the store. Go in and get one of those bags they're advertising."

The store was called 'Tenacious Trunks" and Dudley walked in nervously. He reached the stand near the front of the store that was offering

'Bottemless bags: ten galleons. Store everything but your house!

'Warning: Neither Mr. Tidus or any of the employees are responsible for the deaths of any living creatures inserted into bottomless bags. When overfilled, objects tend to disappear. You will not be reimbursed.'

Dudley took one of the silky black bags to the counter, coming face to face with a short old man. He was wearing brown robes, and had curly gray hair. Thick spectacles were perched on his beak like nose.

"Well then, boy can I help you? I haven't got all day." Dudley stopped his staring and put the bag on the counter.

"Ah one of the bags is it then? That will be ten galleons." Harry reached carefully from underneath the cloak, and Dudley felt him press a handful of coins into his hand. Dudley handed the coins to the shopkeeper and made his way out of the store.

"I told you to quit staring at stuff." Harry whispered into Dudley's ear. "Make for the big white building that says Gringrotts now. When we get in tell the goblin at the counter that you have Harry Potter with you and hand him this key." Harry handed Dudley his vault key.

Dudley controlled himself this time and didn't stare at the menacing goblin guard, and walked to the counter. A goblin sat behind it, counting a pile of coins under his breath.

"Eer, excuse me." Dudley interrupted the creature. It glared at him.

"What do you want muggle?" Dudley looked shocked. How did it know?

"Um, I've got Harry Potter with me. Here's his key." He whispered and handed the key to the goblin who snatched it from him.

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for that am I?"

"I'm here," said Harry quietly.

"Fine then." The goblin pressed a button on his desk. "I'll have Griphook show you both down to your vault. "

Dudley felt the ride was quite like a muggle rollercoaster and enjoyed it immensely. The doors to the vault opened and he found himself amazed at the piles of gold silver and bronze.

Harry took the cloak off, and Dudley handed him the black bag.

"No need for secrecy now that we're down here. Help me get a bunch of these gold coins into the bag."

They spent a while shoveling the galleons into the bag, which never seemed to be any less empty, until Harry decided they had enough. Harry threw the cloak back on and they ascended. Once back up to the surface Dudley had the goblin exchange half of it for muggle money.

Dudley pulled the robes off of his head as soon as they exited the Leaky Cauldron. They were lucky as the color was already changing back to black, and they would have been recognized for death eaters robes. Harry took off the cloak of invisibility and hailed a cab. They drove around til finding a furniture store.

"Pick out anything you like Dudley, we're pretty much unlimited in terms of finance."

Dudley certainly picked out everything that caught his eye and they spent a few hours in the store buying everything from new beds to a working refrigerator.

"So where you want this all delivered to?" The clerk asked an incredulous expression was on his face and Harry gave the man the address.

"Alright, it should be there in a few hours. Just pay the men when they get there."

The boys shopped in a few more stores, purchasing an expensive flat-screen telly, clothes, paint, brushes, wood, dishes, a pump device for spraying weed killer, and gasoline. Harry only explained the last two with "We'll need it soon." They fit all of it in the tiny bag which was starting to appear a little fuller.

Harry and Dudley found the delivery man waiting for them when they stepped out of the cab onto the sidewalk of Charing Cross road. Piles of boxes and assortments of furniture were lined up in front of the apartment complex.

Harry walked up and handed the man who looked like he was in charge the money. He then opened the door to the apartment building and looked around. The landlady was gone, a note on the door to her rooms saying she'd be back in three days.

"Thanks for your help, have a good day." He told the delivery man.

The man stared at him dubiously, scratching his head. "You're a big fellow, but you sure you don't want any help getting all that up?"

"Nah, I think we can manage it between ourselves," He gestured to Dudely.

"Er, alright then, good day." The workers got back in the truck, and it sped off.

"Harry what the bloody fuck? How in the hell are we gonna get all this up those stairs?"

"Dudley I'm a wizard, remember? The landlady's gone and if we're quick none of the other tenants will notice. Besides I need the practice. Go upstairs and open the door to our room. "

'wingardium leviosa' he thought and a recliner and a mattress wobbled into the air. With a flick of his wand it shot through the doors of the apartment and up the stairs. Harry concentrated, imagining the building and the layout of the rooms. He dropped the recliner in where he approximated the living room to be, and the mattress in his room. He continued in this fashion until there were no more boxes or random objects left and made his way up to their apartment.

His approximations turned out to be averagely correct for the most part. Many of his guesses had been slighty off center, but that didn't matter so much. He and Dudley quickly got to work.

Harry vanished the old furniture, the drapes, the kitchen appliances, and everything else they wanted rid of with quick 'evanescos' and then 'scourgified' the rest of the house. When he had finished with his now empty room, he levitated the pieces for the bed frame out of their box, and Dudley, reading the directions, grabbed pieces out of the air, and screwed or put them together.

They did this with all the furniture, the bookcases, and set in the appliances, and the telly. The completely redone apartment was actually looking nice.

Harry looked down at his feet. The beige carpet still bore stains, so he transfigured it and changed the color with a mental 'abeo' and picturing a black, soft carpet in his mind. He checked his room and Dudley's to make sure it worked in both. They had replaced everything in the bathroom even the tiles. It was no longer the rusty, grimy, slimy pig trough that it had been but now matched the opulence of the one in the hotel.

"Wow, that would have taken us days normally. Magic is really cool."

Harry chuckled. "Good job stating the obvious Dudley." Dudley punched him jokingly in the shoulder.

"Alright well I'm knackered, I'm going to sleep in my nice new bed."

"Me too, tomorrow we'll go find your ritual." During the course of the day Harry had been forming a plan in his head of how to acquire the books without notice. He wasn't sure if the Order was still at Grimmauld since Sirius had died, but just in case, he needed to be sure he wouldn't be seen.

Harry sat on his broom, Dudley behind him, and carefully opened the window to the library of Grimmauld Place. No one was inside. He climbed through the window, making sure the invisibility cloak was on him, and the weed killer pump filled with gasoline under his arm. He placed it in the middle of the library and looked around. Many books were missing from the tall shelves.

"Dudley come here." He whispered.

Dudley clambered through the window, leaving the broom levitating outside and stood next to Harry.

"What's wrong?"

"I forgot Mrs. Weasley removed a lot of the books. Probably the ones we'll need."

"What the fuck? How are we going to find the ritual then?!"

"Shh Dudley calm down. I've got an idea. If I'm right it shouldn't be too hard."

"What are you talking about?"

"KREACHER!" Harry shouted

A pop sounded before a dirty creature fell on the ground, screaming and banging his fists.

"Kreacher won't! Kreacher won't serve the nasty half blood orphan! Kreacher won't serve the brat that killed miss bella!"

Dudley looked terrified and backed up away from the strange thing with bat like ears, and a snout like nose.

"Silence." Harry ordered calmy, and the thing shut up, staring at him with hate.

"What did Mrs. Weasley do with the books? I order you to tell me the complete truth."

"Nasty fat redhead woman tried to throw them out!" Kreacher spat. "But no, stupid blood traitor didn't realize that magics more powerful then her be protecting them. She couldn't move the books past the front door. Threw quite a fit she did!" Kreacher cackled.

"Then what did she do?" He held back his anger at Kreature's foul tounge.

"Then nasty woman put them in the basement, so her dirty redheaded children wouldn't read them."

"Thank you Kreacher. " Harry turned to walk out the library, pump again under his arm. "Oh yes, one more thing Kreacher, before I forget." He turned around slowly.

The elf glared at him.

"Crucio!" Harry hissed. The elf fell back on the ground, screaming in pain.

"Lachia!" He jerked his wand. A ripple of magic moved swiftly through the air, slashing through the house elf's neck. Kreachers head slid off and fell to the floor with a thud, blood spraying.

"Harry, why'd you do that?" Dudley was trying to keep up with Harry's fast angry pace up the stairs.

"That elf willingly caused my godfather's death. He wasn't solely to blame but he could have averted it."

"Oh. Why was it taking your orders?"

"I had a hunch that Sirius left me this house. That hunch proved right; I used Kreacher to test it. He would have passed to me along with the house, and a house elf must always obey its master."

"So why isn't anyone here? You said this was the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix."

"It is, but they have no way of knowing for sure who got the house, it could belong to anyone related to Sirius, and there's a few deatheaters who have that claim. Sirius obviously wouldn't have left it to any of them, but they could have contested the will and won. Here we are Dudley, the basement."

Harry yanked the door open, and a few feathers floated out. Remains of when the Hippogriff Buckbeak now named Witherwings had taken residence. The basement was as dusty as ever. Large wooden crates wrapped in chains with padlocks stacked on top of each other filled the room.

Harry touched one of the padlocks, and it grew padlocks and tried to bite his hand.

"Damn you Mrs. Weasley!" He growled. Her paranoia would cause him a lot of time and effort.

"Finite Incantatum!" He waved his wand, and reached towards the padlock again, again it tried to bite him.

"Fuck! Evanesco!" Nothing happened.

Dudley felt a small amount of fear that the dark anger in Harry's eyes.

"Why don't you try blowing a whole in the box itself, instead of getting rid of the chains?" Dudley suggested.

"Huh, that might work. " Harry pondered over what spell to use

'Reducto.' He thought, careful not to put too much power in it. The wood exploded, but the contents of the box remained unharmed. He levitated the chains away.

"Put those in the bag, while I get rid of the other boxes. Don't bother sorting them out now, we'll do it when we get home."

Dudley smiled at Harry calling their apartment home.

'I guess it is home now' he thought to himself. He bent down and began shoving books in the bag.

After they were done Harry set the pump sprayer in the middle of the room and began pumping. Gasoline soon began to cover everything.

"You never explained what that was for." Dudley stated, curious.

"To cover our tracks. According to my charms textbooks fire destroys charms and enchantments if they're not protected against it. That means it also gets rid of spell residue. In case the order comes, they won't be able to tell who took the books. Wizards would probably use this method all the time to cover up crimes, but they refuse to think like muggles. They would try using incendio ,the fire spell, and that would leave its own residue. "

He walked out of the room, and Dudley followed him. Once they were both out Harry pulled a match and a matchbox out of the pocket of his robes. He struck it, and then tossed it in the room, slamming the door quickly. They could both hear the roar of flames, as fire quickly spread to envelope the room.

Harry kept pumping, coating the hallway, and then the stairs they were walking down in gasoline. He ran out, and gestured for Dudley to pull another can out of the bottomless bag. Harry refilled the pump with it.

"Why are you doing it out here too?"

"I want to make it look like something like an infestation of streelers got in here. Did you read about those?"

"Ya, it's a snail thing that leaves a trail of venom that burns away anything it touches, right?" Dudley was beginning to understand Harry's action.

"Ten points to Gryffindor Mr. Dursley." They entered the library and Harry struck another match and threw it out, again slamming the door quickly. This time there was a rush of flames that got gradually quieter the farther away it followed the trail of gasoline leading to the basement.

"Okay hold the bag out of front in you."

Dudley did.

Harry waved his wand and all the books were pulled off their shelves. Another wave and they zoomed at Dudley who almost panicked.

"Be Still! Hold the bag out!"

Dudley shoved the bag in front of his face again, and the books zoomed into it one by one. He let out a relieved sigh. Harry began spraying the gasoline all over the library.

"Alright Dud, let's get out of here."

They both climbed out of the window. Harry struck his third match and threw it in, before covering both of them with the cloak. They flew off to the roar of an inferno.

A loud crash awoke Dudley from his slumber. He fell out of his bed in panick, struggling to disentangle himself from his sheets. Another crash, it sounded like it was farther away and below him. Dudley ran out his room, throwing the door open and skidded to a stop before the exit. The door was destroyed ripped off its hinges and fallen in the hallway that led to the stairs. Dudley looked over the railing, and saw that the door to the entrance of the apartment was in the same shape. Tenants were milling about the bottom floor and the stairs, asking each other if they'd seen what happened. Luckily no one had. Only one man was saying he'd seen a large black shape lumber through the door it had knocked down. Dudley ran down the stairs, knocking people to the side who let out exclamations of how rude he was. He looked out onto to the street but couldn't see Harry, or the animal he apparently had become anywhere.

Harry woke up with a groan, sunlight blazing in his face. He opened his eyes, squinting in the light and let out another groan. He was naked, and laying on the ground. This time though, he was laying on soft black carpet instead of a forest floor.

'good I'm still in the apartment then.' Harry thought. He got slowly to his feet and heard a cough. He turned around and saw Dudley staring at him from the entrance to his room. The boy looked like he was about to be sick.

"What, have I got something on my face?"

"Why don't you go look?"

Harry walked slowly to the bathroom, closing the door behind him, his muscles screaming in protest, and looked into the mirror. He almost sicked up himself. His face and chest were covered in blood. He opened his mouth and saw that what felt like pieces of rubber to his tongue were really small chunks of flesh stuck in his teeth.

He quickly pulled them off and washed them down the sink, then stepped into the tub, turning the shower head on as hot as it would go.

He punched the wall, and punched it and punched it, with both hands yelling in frustration and feeling his knuckles break. The wall was cracked now in several places. He slid down until he was sitting in the tub, and held his head between his knees, sobbing. The hot water made the torn apart skin on his broken knuckles sting horribly. His blood mixed with the dried blood that was being washed off, and the mixture ran across the white porcelain of the tub and into the drain, leaving a pinkish white stain behind.

'What have I become?' Harry thought, but he already knew the answer.

'A monster.'

AN:

Abeo tu insectas: change to insects. Voldemort transfigured Fudge's fat and the contents of his stomach into bugs. He willed them to be carnivorous.

Lachia: Welsh for slash