Freak of Nature
I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money off of this work, period.
AN: Well, now you have another two-fer; one chapter yesterday, one today. Thanks to everybody who wrote to encourage me and inspire me to think about what I want to write into the coming chapters. Best wishes, and now with the fun! (Cue evil smile*)
[parsel]
/creepy crawly critters/
{Primal Beast Language}
Chapter 11: A Tale of Two Alleys
"I've had a tense couple of days. And I've got to tell you, burning someone's face off sounds like a great way to relax."
— Jim Butcher (Small Favor)
The trip up from the Slytherin vault had taken what felt like only a moment, but Harry enjoyed every second of it. His mind drifted back from thoughts of what it must be like to fly to concentrate on what Ragnok was telling him about the Malfoy family. Harry could pretty much sum up Ragnok's comments on the Malfoy family in a short sentence: Never had a bigger bunch of bloody ass-wankers walked the wizarding world; bloody wankers whose account's manager was now Harry Potter.
Apparently the Malfoy family was a Dark family, that didn't bother Harry all that much. No, what bothered Harry about the Malfoys was that they were the biggest bigots in Wizarding Britain, the biggest harvester of animal products for potion supplies, the largest proponents of prejudiced laws and policies in the wizarding government, and the biggest nail in their coffin was that they were some of the biggest supporters of Voldemort. From Ragnok's telling it, and Harry's thinking, even the fact that 'Lord' Lucius Malfoy was a pain in Dumbledore's arse wasn't mitigating enough to allow Harry to spare the Malfoy family pain and destruction. Yes the ministry might buy that cockamamie bull story of "imperius," but the Goblins had the real details, and they clearly showed that Lucius was as crooked as they came. As Harry looked through the account documents that he had "inherited" from Gutwrot, he saw the reality of the situation. Lucius had bribed his way out of trouble, had bribed the Minister to support his laws and his opinions, and had regularly supported Voldemort for too long and in too organized of a manner for him to be under the haze inducing effects of the Imperius curse.
"Hmmm," Harry stated out loud as he read through the Malfoy account books, perusing both the legal and illegal entities that funded the family. Slowly, as Harry turned the page, he started to smirk. The smirk slowly became a grin. The grin then became a smile that eerily grew to split his face from ear to ear. Looking up at Ragnok Harry decided to ask two questions first before he could see if his ideas would work. "Ragnok, first things first, is there some rule that mandates that you inform Lord Malfoy that Gutwrot is dead and that I or another goblin is managing the account instead of Gutwrot?" Harry asked.
Ragnok sat back in his seat and looked up as he thought for a second. Slowly, smiling at Harry he said, "No Harry, I can't think of any reason or rule why we would have to tell him. How do you expect to get around him calling to speak with you and find out that a Goblin isn't managing his account?"
"Oh, no, you totally read me wrong Ragnok, I have no reason to want to manage his account; just like I don't really want to manage my own account. I'm going to be too busy with my other activities and I don't care enough about making money or losing money to be a good manager; that's why I have you managing my accounts and trying to help me gain money. Here is my second question, if a manager did a very poor job of managing an account, would Lord Malfoy have to challenge the manager as I had to challenge Gutwrot?" Harry questioned with a gleam in his eye and a smile.
Starting to realize where Harry was going with his questions, Ragnok answered, "Well, technically he could just choose a new manager, but if he was to challenge the decisions of the account manager on the grounds of thievery, blatant dishonesty or disregard, then as a matter of honor a challenge would have to take place. Why, what are you thinking?" Ragnok stated, leaning forward in his chair to hear Harry's plan.
"Well it's like this, how would you like to make a great deal of money?" Harry continued, "Your spawn Griphook might like to manage the Malfoy account for me, but manage it very poorly…" Harry explained with an evil gleam in his eye. Harry then went on to explain his plan on what the foreseeable future would hold for the Malfoy fortune, and in turn, the Firewater Clan and Harry Potter's fortunes. The first blow would be struck against the Malfoy's power, and as the goblins knew, gold was a form of power.
Exiting the doors of Gringotts bank and into Diagon Alley, Harry Potter stopped at the threshold and looked out over the teaming crowds of people going about their shopping. The wizarding families that were getting an early start on their Hogwarts shopping where hustling and bustling all over the place, and business wizards streamed in and out of the doors of the Goblin bank; all of them totally oblivious to the fact that their "savior" was standing in the middle of the bank's doorway.
"Hi Honey, I'm Hooommeeee!" Harry said out loud to himself with a creepy smile; the only creatures to hear it were the two goblin guards who seemed to shiver at the somewhat cheery statement coming from a boy who they had seen destroy an entire goblin clan. Harry had remembered two shows from the Dursley's television where the "father" of a family had stated those very words as he walked through the door; both had struck him in their unnaturalness. One was in black and white and showed a "normal" family in suburbia, the other a horror movie where the father entered the room with an axe. Harry thought the last one was rather fitting for his circumstances as he lifted the cowl of his cloak to hide his face and left the threshold of the bank, off to start his shopping trip.
Harry let Scorpius's memories guide him to his first errand, which was Ollivander's wand store to purchase his "primary" wand. Harry reminded himself that a predator had to first blend in with his surroundings, and there was no way that the famous Harry Potter could proceed out in the open without following certain norms. The first of these norms was to get a wand from the ministry approved wand store.
Entering Ollivander's, the bell above the door jingled as he walked in. Immediately the hairs on his neck rose and he blinked as he looked around. He could always see the magic around him after he received his gift from the spirit of the Zulu Witchdoctor, but he had yet been to a place with so many different colors of magic. The shelves were covered in boxes upon boxes of what must have been wands, and each box had a different magical color to it; which Harry realized had to come from the many different cores and magical materials present in the wands. His ear twitched as he heard a man attempting to approach him from behind, and the taste in the air told him that the man tasted of wood dust and a myriad of magical materials. Harry assumed that this must be Ollivander.
Turning quickly to face the owner of the shop, it was the owner that was startled by the fast movement, and not the other way around.
Startled, Ollivander jumped back. "Curious…" Ollivander stated before almost seeming to pause for effect as he starred at the black hooded figure, "Who might you be short one, and what can I do for you?" the wand maker questioned.
Removing his hood, Harry gave Ollivander a blank look, noting the slight twitch of Ollivander's eyes that let Harry know that Ollivander now knew who Harry was. "I'm here to buy a wand, of course."
Ollivander exclaimed "Ah Mr. Potter, I wondered when I might see you… Why I remember when your parents came in for their first wands. It was…"
Harry interrupted Ollivander with a terse word, "Yes yes, thank you sir, I'm glad my deceased parents enjoyed your wands up until their untimely demise. I'm sure they were especially whipping or twitchy and perfectly suited for them. Too bad their wands couldn't save their lives. Now I would like to be fitted for a wand and I think that one in the box on the far back shelf, left hand side, up three levels, forth box on the right, two boxes up would be the best fit for me." Harry stated as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Ahem," Ollivander said taken aback, "I'm sorry my boy, but that isn't how it's done. The wand chooses the wizard Mr. Potter, not the other way around," Ollivander exclaimed as he began taking down other boxes and bringing them towards Harry to try out.
"Ah ah ah, stop right there." Harry stated as he held up his hand to stop Ollivander's actions. "You're not much of a business man are you?" Harry stated, "I'm not going to try a single other wand until you let me try the one that I stated. And if you can't deal with that, then we will be having a problem." Harry stated in a no nonsense manner. Harry really wanted to start off on the right foot with towards his goals, and he didn't think eating Britain's preeminent wand maker would be keeping with his goal of staying under the proverbial radar.
"Really now Mr. Potter, I've been doing this for far longer than you have even been alive." Ollivander stated, but seeing as how Harry didn't look like he was going to budge on his stance, the wand maker continued. "Sigh, alright Mr. Potter, we will try that wand first."
With that, Harry watched Ollivander proceed to the far back shelf, left hand side, up three shelves, forth box on the right, two boxes up and brought the box back to Harry with a slightly condescending smile, not really noticing what wand he was handing to Harry.
Now normally when a wand finds its wizard the wizard's magic reacts to the wand and there are small sparks, maybe a little tune, or with especially powerful wizards you might get a combination of these and a aura could light up around the wizard. Harry wasn't a normal wizard. Harry wasn't even in the same ball park as a measly "powerful" wizard. No, Harry's magic was connected to the GoGo.
"KAAAABOOOOOM!"
Wizards out on the streets in front of Ollivander's were shocked to see the storefront windows, which had been charmed to be unbreakable, shudder and crack, forming spider-web designs all over them. All of the wands in the windows and the shelf behind the windows seemed to lift into the air and hover for a second before falling into a mess on the ground. And that was just the view from the outside of the store.
The view inside Ollivander's had Harry recalling a game that had held Dudley's attention for all of about 15 minutes at one time; a record considering Dudley's ADHD and significant lack of functioning brain cells. The game was called "pick-up-sticks" and was played by dropping a bundle of fine pointy sticks on the floor and then trying to pick them up in an organized method without moving any other stick. At that moment, Ollivander's store looked like it was holding the World Cup game of pick-up-sticks.
Wands were everywhere, boxes were everywhere, and all of the shelves where off kilter, knocked over or broken. The wand owner was much worse; apparently nobody had taught wizards weapon safety and not to be standing in front of the "barrel" when a weapon is armed.
Ollivander lay in a sprawled out form on the floor, twitching every so often and not wearing a single stitch of clothing as it was all laying around him in shreds. Fortunately Ollivander had passed out face down, Harry thought as he looked down at the wand maker whose hair was standing on end and who appeared to be going into convolutions at that moment. Still, Ollivanders pale and wrinkly backside was not something Harry wanted to look at.
Harry didn't know which part of the wand joining had been the one to knock Ollivander out. When Harry's hand had clasped his new wand many things had happened at once, so it was hard to figure out which one had the largest effect on Ollivander. Perhaps it had been the point where ovals of light seemed to appear in the air around the store and opened up what appeared to be portals to dimensions of shear unspeakable chaos. Perhaps it was the beam of light that shown down on Harry from above and the Chorus of angles and phoenix song that seemed to issue out around him. "No," Harry stated to himself, "I'm putting my money on the bolt of lightning that spat from the tip of my wand and hit the old bugger right between the eyes." Harry said with a chuckle as the wand maker seemed to stop shaking and fall into a comatose state.
"Oh well, no harm no foul." Harry said with a shrug as he looked around. He noticed a wrist holster on the ground next to him and retrieved that and a wand care kit that Ollivander seemed to be partially laying on. Digging out ten galleons, he picked his way through the mess and laid them on the counter before recounting his steps and leaving the store. He had gotten what he wanted, so he didn't really care about the wand maker any more. Hopefully his phoenix feather and holly wand would serve him better than his parents' wands had served them.
Shopping at the trunk store and apothecary had proceeded pretty well from Harry's point of view. He had left the trunk store long before the Aurors had arrived to help find the rude trunk salesman's head and limbs that had been hidden in different trunks. Harry had also left the apothecary with his supplies and a smile on his face; it wasn't as if the animal parts at the store weren't already dead, so they wouldn't mind the fire that Harry had started next to the stasis barrel of erumpent fluid. The explosion that had issued up into the air as Harry walked away from the store had helped sooth Harry's temper after having to deal with all of the pushy wizards that swarmed the alley; it also didn't hurt that the Malfoy family held majority shares in that particular apothecary. Apparently the Obliviators would be as busy in the muggle parts of London around the Alley as the Aurors were in the Alley. Who knew that a magically shrunk barrel of erumpent fluid could launch the roof of a building four hundred feet in the air and out into muggle London?
Entering Madam Malkin's, Harry decided that it would be one of his last stops in Diagon Alley before he proceeded into Knockturn Alley; he needed to follow up on a few ideas that Scorpius Black's memories had given him. The store was just as he remembered it to be, or more specifically as the memories from Scorpius Black last recorded it. Racks of robes where placed around the inside of Madame Malkin's clothing store, the walls were either covered in large floor to ceiling mirrors or wall racks holding more robes of all colors; the vast majority of them being some variety or combination of black. As Harry looked around he realized that he still had no clue how to pick out clothing, everything in the room might as well been a burlap sack or a simple animal skin for all he cared. One of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors was populated by a blonde boy who looked to be Harry's age, not that Harry looked his age but the boy definitely appeared to be eleven years old. Candles around the mirror added a flickering light that helped the boy and his mother, who stood a couple feet away, examine the clothing being tailored. Kneeling and shuffling around the boy was most likely the proprietor of the shop, Madam Malkin, her one hand was pinching fabric to different positions and her wand was in her other hand taking up the slack on the clothing the boy was wearing.
"Going to Hogwarts deary? I'll be right with you in a moment if you want to stand in front of the other mirror." Madam Malkin stated, holding on to the blonde boys clothing while giving Harry a moment of her attention.
Silently, Harry gracefully prowled through the clothing racks, seeming to almost float but with a definite power to his movements that caught the eye of the blonde boy's mother; a stunning blonde beauty who was wearing a rather stern high necked Victorian style dress in black with silver etching. Noting the perusal by the mother, Harry thought he might have some fun; he knew he was most likely too young for the women even though he looked like he could be in his mid teens due to his lack of body fat and chiseled features. Smirking slightly as he moved around the mother who kept her view on him from her periphery, he realized that today was July 31st, his birthday, and that he was eleven. But then the thought flitted away from him as he hadn't celebrated his birthday since he was one years old and his parents were still alive.
Stepping up onto the other fitting stand, he made a slight show of taking off his robe and exposing the fact that he his muscles strained against his shirt and pants. Folding up his robe, he turned his back to the blonde women and bent over as if to place his robe on the ground, not letting his smirk show in his reflection and catching the slight sound of a gasp that would have been missed except for his incredible hearing.
Narcissa Malfoy was stunned as she felt urges flowing through her that she hadn't felt in years, but tainted with a bit of guilt. Here was this boy who looked to be a 4th year at Hogwarts, and she was lusting after him a bit. She had seen his smirk as he walked by her, and the careless arrogance was a bit of a turn-on just as it had been part of what had originally attracted her to her husband Lucius. Too bad it turned out that her husband was a poof and hadn't touched her since she had birthed Draco. It wasn't as if she cared that he dipped his wick with other wizards, it was the fact that her "loving" husband had made sure that her marriage contract had a strict no fraternization clause in her portion of the contract, so she couldn't satisfy her itch while he was out on a "boys night." Here was this boy of what looked to be 15 or 16 and she couldn't do anything to enjoy it, even though that was considered a little young to be sampling the goods, even in wizarding Britain. "But dear god the boy had a nice butt!" Narcissa thought with a gasp, her façade of disregard for all those around her cracking for a second as the boy bent over to lay his folded robe on the ground. Her licentious thoughts were interrupted by her son opening his mouth and no doubt beginning to show that he took after his father in being a pompous ass.
"Off to Hogwarts are you?" Draco asked, but continuing before Harry could even answer, if he had deigned to do so, "I think it's a travesty that first years can't get a broom. I'm Draco Malfoy, and I'm going to be the Slytherin house seeker for sure. What position do you play?" Draco continued, Madame Malkin rolled her eyes in exasperation as she tried to keep the boy's clothes from being ruined as he wouldn't hold still.
"I don't know, never played it." Harry stated without really looking at the boy, realizing from Scorpius's memories that the boy was most likely talking about quidditch.
"What! Never played quidditch have you? You must be a mudblood then." Draco spat with a sneer, causing Narcissa's face to go pale as she realized her son was too stupid to put two and two together and realize that he was insulting a wizard wearing expensively tailored Acromantula silk and Dragon hide and that there was no way that a muggleborn would be able to wear that clothing and maneuver through the alley unattended. She silently cursed Lucius for his corrupting the boy and breeding his branch of stupidity into Narcissa's son.
Before Narcissa would interject with an politic apology, the black haired boy spoke. "I'd watch your tongue Malfoy as your fly is open and your stupid is showing." Harry stated.
Draco looked down at his pants quickly, and then back up at Harry with a dumb look ,where a few dozen seconds passed before he realized that he had just been insulted. Turning red, a decidedly bad color when considering Draco's hair color, Draco ordered, "What is your name mudblood, wait until my father hears of this!"
Quirking an eyebrow at Draco, Harry replied with an uncaring wave of his hand, "Harry, and I'd watch what you are saying Draco, you never know when it might come back to "Bite" you in the end."
Spinning around and knocking Madam Malkin out of the way Draco moved closer to the candleholders and the edge of his mirrored section and opened his mouth to insult Harry again, Harry realized that he had dealt with Draco Malfoy long enough for that day; it also wouldn't do to get blood on clothes that Harry might end up wanting to purchase. Snapping his figures behind his back, the candle right next to Draco's head sparked and shot an ember of wick onto Draco's hair.
"Whooosh!"
Apparently Draco liked to use muggle hairspray, as his perfectly coifed and slicked back hair went up in a fireball and he did a wizard's imitation of Johnny Storm, the Human Torch.
Draco went "AAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!" followed by a "Whooosh!" as both Madam Malkin and Narcissa both hit Draco's head with the fire hose equivalent of the Aguamenti charm.
Narcissa quickly bundled Draco and his purchase up in order to rush him to St. Mungo's for burn paste and hair re-growth potions. It was only later after she had left the store and was waiting for the Healers to deliver Draco's potions that she had time to really think and remember the smirk on the boy named Harry's face. It was then that she figured out two things: one, perhaps Draco's "accident" wasn't so "accidental" after all; and second, "Harry" looked a lot like somebody from her memory, but she couldn't put it together just yet.
Luna and her father were doing some last minutes shopping, as they always seemed to do since her mother had died and left just her and her father alone. Her father was just too scatter brained to think of things such as stocking a pantry or planning to buy extra parchment and ink to print the Quibbler. However the nargles must have been smiling on them that day as it looked like their trip to Diagon Alley was timed perfectly with the Rotfang Conspiracy's attack on an apothecary, trunk shop, and the wand store. Perhaps if they could get all of the details on these attacks, then they could figure out why Minister Fudge had been seen in a Knockturn Alley establishment wearing nothing but a hippogriff's saddle and bit while being whipped by house elves. She had sworn to help her father get to the bottom of it, or her name wasn't Abigale Bobbinghouse!
Just as Luna and her father walked past the windows of Madame Malkin's, after interviewing the Aurors at the apothecary explosion, she swore she saw Harry Potter through the window; naked as the day he was born, but definitely a whole lot more muscular than the day he was born.
"Daddy dearest, why is Harry Potter naked in a shop full of clothing? Why wouldn't he be wearing the clothing? And why does he make my tummy feel all itchy inside?" Luna asked her father.
"What! I thought the healers got you over that! Back to St. Mungos, and then we are going to stay away from Diagon and any place where you might come into contact with Boys, obviously something is wrong with your magic and you've caught the dreaded 'boy fever' that the muggle medical magazine YM spoke about; I only hope we can stop it before you go 'boy crazy'" Xenophilius stated. "I'll get you healthy Pumpkin-dumpling, if it's the last thing I do, or my name isn't Humphry Humpgarden!" Xenophilius stated as he pushed his daughter towards the apparition point to return her to St. Mungo's.
Xenophilius hoped that the muggle YM magazines that he had purchased would have the cure in them, somewhere between the makeup tips and the what is hot-or-not for the season; who knew that muggles were affected by seasonal fevers and were prone to having red cheeks and blue on their eyelids?
"Ok daddy, but please don't call me pumpkin, I don't like pumpkin and I'd prefer rutabaga today." Luna said as she was dragged off down the Alley, wistfully looking back to where she had last seen Harry.
Meanwhile back in Madame Malkin's, Madame Malkin was passed out on the floor as she had just realized that Harry Potter was naked in her store.
Fortunately for Harry he was the only one in the store, and he really didn't understand why shop keepers kept dropping unconscious around him. Well, sure he had blasted Ollivander with a lightning bolt, and sure Harry had repeatedly slammed the trunk salesman's head with the lid of a trunk until he passed out, but there was no reason why Madame Malkin should have passed out just because she asked Harry to try on an outfit. This time was totally not his fault. After all, Harry didn't realize that he was supposed to wear underwear, what with all of his previous pairs of underwear from Dudley having brown stains on them and being way too big; it wasn't like he had ever really worn them.
Shrugging to himself, Harry continued to try on, and strip off the outfits that Madame Malkin had brought over for him when he had requested a full wardrobe; totally oblivious to the changing room that lay just to his right and behind a rack of robes.
Just as he was taking off his shirt and turning around to try on another outfit he caught a whiff of the smell of the forests and a bit of the plains of Africa, that and something that smelt rather nice. Whirling around, he gazed out the window, just in time to see a cute young blonde girl halt in her walk by, catching Harry's eye. It was only for a moment before she was pulled out of sight by what must have been her father, Harry's guess being based on the fact that they were the only two wizards he'd ever seen to wear matching tie-dyed robes. For some strange reason his subconscious seemed to recognize her, and by the time he had sorted through his memories to a point where he remember where he had last seen her, she was already gone. He had at least gotten a better view of her this time, as the last time had been a bit of a blur as he thought he remembered running through her camp, or maybe it was with a hippo behind him. He stood naked in the room pondering his thoughts and memories for a second, until he caught himself wondering why the heck he should care if he had seen the girl before; and where had the thought that she was cute come from?
"Oh well," Harry said to himself with a shrug before packaging up all of the outfits that he had liked. Scorpius, as a high-born pureblood scion, had the knowledge of the spells to tailor or fit clothes, so it was only a matter of time before the clothes would fit Harry perfectly. Harry thought that he would need to start teaching himself the muscle memory of the wand movements and the feeling of the magic so that he could become proficient as a wand wizard. He reminded himself that this was one of the main reasons he needed to go to Hogwarts. It wasn't as if he couldn't perform a spell from memory, however, but struggled to make his spells fluid as he had to be consciously thinking what he wanted to cast an pull up the memory. This didn't mesh well with his style of instinctual fighting let alone the fluidity of spell casting he would need to reach his goals of destroying the wizards who oppressed him.
Dressed and stepping over the prone form of Madam Malkin, Harry took out a couple hundred galleons and laid them on the counter. He saw that there was a bit of parchment on it so he wrote a note that Madam Malkin could contact him if she needed more, and to just send him an owl. With that, Harry shrunk his purchases and added them to his trunk, which he then shrunk and put in his pocket.
As he walked out of the clothing store Harry thought to himself, "Hmmm, I could get used to this shopping thing. Free trunk, a bit of blowing off steam, and then I'm on my way. Nice." He thought, walking down the street towards the Parchment store and Eeylop's Owl Emporium.
The Parchment store hadn't taken more than a few seconds, and Eeylop's had gone quickly. As soon as Harry had prowled through the door of the Owl Emporium, every single Owl and animal in the place shut up and tried to make them self as small as possible; who ever said that post-owls weren't smart didn't know what they were talking about. Purchasing a snowy white owl, which he named Hedwig after convincing her he wasn't buying her to be a snack, he wrote out his acceptance letter to Hogwarts and McGonagall and sent his owl on her way with it. Because of the time spent traveling from Africa, dealing with the Goblins, and then the shopping, night had started to set in and the sun had already disappeared to the point where you couldn't see it behind the buildings. Diagon Alley seemed to clear out as the wizarding families returned home to enjoy their family suppers. Though a bit hungry, Harry figured he could pick up some food in Knockturn Alley while he finished up his shopping trip.
Whereas the activity in Diagon Alley seemed to be dying down as the sun left the sky, Knockturn Alley seemed to be getting busier. Knockturn Alley was one of those seedy dives that every city has, that part of town that the government sees as a pustule on their society and where visitors in from out of town are politely told never to go into. Sure, some people who lived and worked in Knockturn did so because they had nowhere else they could go; beaten, downtrodden, poor, the ill and all who had no other place to go flocked to Knockturn's cheap housing and jobs that paid under the table. But the reason why the housing and facilities in Knockturn alley were cheap was because Knockturn was a warren of crime and death. It was by no means the worst place to visit on the planet, no doubt the back warren of some third world country held that crown, but it was a place where one could expect to have their pocket, purse, or even their neck, slit at any time. It was into this that Harry took a leisurely stroll and learned another lesson.
Maybe it was the hunger that distracted him, maybe it was pride, maybe it was because everything that day had gone so easily for him, whatever the cause, Harry Potter walked down Knockturn Alley without his hood cloaking his features and his young age. Whatever the reason was, Harry was a bit caught off guard when a hag stepped out of a shadow and caught his sleeve, the smells of the alley hiding her sweaty and grimy stench.
"Hello deary," the warty and pestilence covered old hag stated as she attempted to pull Harry back into the shadows where a split between buildings was hidden, "How about coming back to my place for dinner, he he he?" she asked with a cackle.
"Hey! Let go!" Harry said, his surprise wearing off enough for him to jerk his arm out of her grasp just as he entered the split area between buildings. "I don't think I'm interesting in tasting anything you're serving." Harry said as he backed away from the old women who had caught him off his guard, Only to get hit with a blinding pain right between his shoulder blades.
"Diffindo!" Was hissed from behind him, right as he felt an excruciating stab that seemed to cut and span from his left shoulder-blade up across to his right shoulder; tumbling him forward into the dark crevice with a splash of blood that went flying out of his back and over his head.
Walking out of the shadows from the other side of the alley was a tall brute of a man, smears of fluids on his brown robes, ugly with a smashed and crooked nose and multiple missing teeth that were on display from his evil gap-toothed smile.
"He he, see, that wasn't too bad." The thug said as he tucked his wand back into the holster on his hip as he took out a sharp looking machete off the other side of his belt. Looking down at the body of Harry as it lay in an expanding pool of blood. Harry was face down in the blood as it drenched his robes and spread out from the gash across his back, a gash that was widely split open and showing a great deal of bone exposed to the air.
Looking up at the Hag who seemed to shift from foot to foot in her impatience, the thug continued, "You'll get the same payment as before, plus the liver, and heart for your stew pot as promised. Have him for dinner, he he, that was a good one." The thug said to the hag with a cruel smirk.
Only to be interrupted by a muffled voice from his feet, "Dinner? Well since you insist." It stated to the thugs confusion.
Harry kicked back from his place on the ground, right foot lashing back and blasting the right knee of the brute into a bent reverse forty-five degree angle; causing the brute to launch forward.
The brute let out a small grunt of pain, but used his forward momentum to try and bring the blade of his machete down on the back of Harry's head.
*Swack!* The blade missed cleaving Harry's head by a brief second, pinning Harry's cloak to the ground as the machete imbedded itself between two of the cobblestones that made up the gap between the buildings.
Harry's neck was jerked back by his cloak as he tried to fully stand up, which probably saved him from the point blank cutting curse that was aimed at his neck by the hag.
Jerked out of the way of the cutting curse, Harry stumbled back into the brute, knocking over the man who was trying to yank his machete out of the ground and tangling Harry's cloak over the man's head as Harry tumbled backwards and flipped his feet over the man, dodging a nasty purple colored curse from the Hag's wand.
Kicking out at the brute's head and connecting his right knee to the thug's jaw, Harry heard a satisfying grunt as the thug fell to the ground next to his machete, stunned for the moment. At the same time, Harry twisted his body to the left, using the momentum of his knee strike to propel him out of the way of the hag's Crucio. "Apparently they were playing for keeps," Harry thought to himself as the curse sizzled by his body.
*Snap* Harry punched his fight hand out towards the hag and then snapped his fingers. The bricks of the wall behind the hag imitating his motion as a stone hand shot out with two fingers wide, only to click its fingers together at the waist of the hag, effectively crushing her middle into the width of a galleon; causing the Hag to start screaming her head off.
"AAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!" The hag screamed.
"Shut up already!" Harry said as his wand slid out of its holster and into his right hand. "Let's see how you like it!" Harry growled, casting a Diffindo at the Hag's neck while at the same time stomping on the brute's hand, breaking it and stopping the thug from pulling his wand.
As the Hag's head popped off with a spray of blood from the overpowered cutting curse, Harry reached down with his left hand and yanked the machete clean of the cobblestones and his cloak, a twinge of pain made him gasp as he stumbled away from the downed thug.
"Bloody Hell that hurts!" Harry gritted, "I haven't felt something like that since the time Dudley and his friends tried to play doctor with carving knives!" He stated, hitching his right shoulder in a circle as he felt the flesh on his back knit back together, the blood slowing yet still soaking his body to the point where it stuck to him all over. He felt a little light headed and he realized that he really needed to get some food into his body if he wanted to heal up and not pass out on his feet.
"You freaks interrupted my shopping!" Harry groused as he walked up to the suspended hag's body, focusing on the downed brute and keeping the thug at wand point; the thug looking up at Harry with a glare as he didn't move from his kneeling position. "And to think, you were stupid enough to do it so close to the mouth of Diagon Alley, the Aurors will no doubt be here soon based on "old beauty's" screaming." Harry snapped, the sarcasm dripping from his words at the description of the hag. Reaching down, he picked up the Hag's wand and pointed it at the thug.
"Neither of you are good enough to eat," Harry stated, the man's eyes going wide at the statement, "But it's my job to take down the sick, so consider this a job well done, Imperio!" Harry cried, using the hag's wand to cast the Imperius on the thug.
The Thug's face went blank, his features relaxed and his eyes went glassy. "Alright, pull out your wand." Harry stated, to which the thug complied. "Ok, now put the tip of your wand to your ass, and cast Reducto." Harry said with an evil smirk. The thug again complied, this time turning Harry's smirk into a grimace as he was showered with bits and pieces of the dearly departed.
"Bloody hell!" Harry stated, wiping the blood off his face and flicking the former thug's nose off his shoulder. Looking around at the scene of destruction, Harry realized that the clock was ticking and that he needed to get away quickly. A bit blurrily, Harry focused on the Hag's body which was being held up by the stone fingers. Harry thrust his hand out away from him in an open palm pushing motion, and the stone fingers let the hag's body drop as it meshed back into the wall. Harry cast a scourgify on the puddle of his blood, hoping that the thug's spreading pool of blood would cover up the fact that he'd cleaned part of the crime scene. Scooping to pick up the thug's dropped wand, Harry glided out of the gap between the buildings and back into Knockturn Alley, Harry pocketing the wands as he kept to the shadows and he tried to get away from the carnage before the Aurors arrived.
As he wincingly glided down the alley, Harry thought to himself that he had learned that he wasn't invincible, a poignant but very painful lesson to learn.
"The Three-fisted Hag" was not the type of drinking and dining environment that you would take your mother to brunch at. In fact, it wasn't the type of place you would take anybody of the female persuasion to, even the type of female that is paid for by the hour or deed. The dirty stinking filthy hole in the wall was the type of place frequented by the lowest of the lowlife criminals, those who out and out really preferred to slit your throat before picking over whatever was in your pockets. It was the type of place where nothing fazed the inhabitants, where the cold blooded individuals of the night absolutely couldn't be caught off guard by anything new. Well, anything besides a dark cloaked figure walking through the doors absolutely dripping with blood, leaving red stained foot prints with every step and covered in bits of freshly mangled gore. Yep, that was something new.
The bar went absolutely silent as Harry, cloak covering his features in shadow, entered the bar. His silk cloak flapped behind him, pieces of it making a wet fwapping sound as the rips and tears in it swung against his wet body with his every movement. The blood seemed to trickle down his dragon hide pants and boots in rivulets, running off of his feet to make a squelching sound with each step he took. The black of his robes seemed to swallow the light as the deep red blood that had soaked into every inch of his shirt and cloak seemed to add a certain element of inevitable doom to his being. Every figure in the bar seemed to freeze in a question as to whether fight, or flee; none of the patrons wanting to call attention to them self by being the first one to move, as the figure passed them on the way to the bar.
Walking up to the bar and addressing the bartender, Harry growled out, "Where's the water closet?" Only to receive a wide-eyed stare and a pointed finger in what Harry guessed was the direction of the closest bathroom. Exiting the bar into the water closet, the sounds of the front room picked up again, creating a background sound to Harry cleaning himself off.
After several locking charms on the door, liberal amounts of the scourgifying charm were coupled with the outright vanishing of Harry's sliced cloak and shirt. Harry poured the blood out of his boots and down the toilet, not really knowing what part of the blood had come from his back versus that of the thug or beheaded hag. His almost mechanical actions of taking new robes and cloak out of his trunk hid his furious thoughts.
Harry was ticked off, not at the Hag and Thug, as they were just part of the diseased masses that Harry had to cull. No, Harry was ticked off at himself. How was he to purge humanity of its unnaturalness and bring nature into alignment if he kept traipsing about and acting by the seat of his pants? His abuser's in life didn't have a discernable plan, but Harry was convinced that they only survived because they followed along the guidelines of a system that provided protection for them. Harry realized that if he wanted to survive and destroy not only the freaks but also their system, then he really needed a plan. He had formed some rudimentary ideas and started some actions in alliance with the Goblins, but he didn't have an overarching plan. Splashing water in his face, Harry looked at his reflection in the cracked and dingy mirror that was the only accent on the walls of the pub's water closet. "Think Potter!" Harry said to his reflection, its glare shining back at him.
Taking a step back and a deep breath to settle his constitution, Harry donned his cloak, shrunk his trunk and pocketed it, and exited the bathroom; he needed to finish his purchases and find a place where he would be safe to rest, recuperate, and plan.
As the dark cloaked figure exited the water closet, no longer dripping of blood, the patron's of the bar once again froze. Silently, all of the eyes of the bar followed Harry as he exited the bar and walked back out into the night. The noise of the bar returned as Harry walked down the street, no creature or wizard daring to mess with the cloaked figure who seemed to radiate fury.
The rest of the trip through Knockturn Alley was relatively uneventful. Harry purchased some healing, blood replenishing, and burn pastes from a potions shop; also paying the extra for the vials of veritaserum, polyjuice, and several Draught's of Living Death which were slipped into his packages without any verbal acknowledgement. He stopped by a weapons shop to see if he wanted to purchase anything, but figured he would wait to see what, if any, weapons he liked from his family vaults.
Still stewing in his anger, Harry went about his errands with a silent fury that cut off any chance that a shop's proprietor would question his actions or presence in Knockturn Alley. It wasn't until he was leaving a dingy grocers shop, with enough raw meat and vegetables to feed him for a week, that a plan began to form.
There, on the threshold above the doorway exiting the grocers was the black family crest. Walking up and stopping in the doorway, Harry was able to read, "This establishment and the surrounding buildings are owned by the Most Ancient House of Black, Toujours Pur."
Thinking to himself for a second, Harry smiled slyly to himself before raising his right and left hands to chest level, the back of his left hand facing up. At Harry's thought the signet ring of his Lordship appeared on his left hand. Looking down and using the pointer finger of his right hand, he traced it slowly over the crest of the House of Black in first a clockwise movement, and then two circles in a counterclockwise motion, as shown to him in the memories of Scorpius Black. Harry disappeared in a flash, feeling as if a hook had grabbed him by his navel.
AN: Well, there is the next chapter. Things are starting to heat up now, and it is only a short period of time for Harry to get everything ready before he has to balance Hogwarts with carrying out his coming plans for the rest of Great Britain and humanity. He knows he needs time to get his magic skills to the point where he can act on instinct, and he is still growing in power, but his enemies are mounting in number. I hope the readers see that the weight of the tasks before him will make him use every bit of it if he hopes to succeed. (And that is as close to a spoiler as I will get with you folks, I dislike spoilers*)
Anyway, thanks for dropping me reviews with comments and thoughts, they help inspire me. Constructive criticism is always welcome as I strive to get better and deliver a more captivating story. Blatant insults and flames that don't lend any benefit to the community really aren't sought after, and I really don't understand the people who take the time to leave them. Best wishes to you all.