Freak of Nature
I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money off of this work, period.
AN: Hello once again dear reader. Thank you to everybody who reviewed. I had a lot of questions about Harry and the last few chapters, and the only thing I have to say is… read the upcoming chapters. I leave unanswered questions in earlier chapters for a reason, the questions and the cliff hangers are part of the evil little barbs that I like to plant in your brain so that you want to come back for more. It's as simple as that… well, that and I'm trying to eventually brain-washing you into coming to the dark side, but you probably already figured that out. What can I say; the dark side has better cookies. *Shrug* Anyway, thanks for the reviews and comments, and now on with the story!
[parsel]
/creepy crawly critters/
{Primal Beast Language}
Chapter 10: Taking Out The Trash
"People love dogs. You can never go wrong adding a dog to the story."
— Jim Butcher (White Night)
Harry landed in a dark and grimy main room, cushioning his landing with his preternatural grace and power; if not for that he was sure that he would have slid face first into a dingy wall or dust covered ottoman; he didn't like wizard transport methods. His examination of the room was suddenly interrupted by a flash of movement to his right, his only warning before a flying something came hurtling towards him screaming through the air.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SNAP!
Without really looking, Harry's clawed hand shot out to his right, grabbing the neck of whatever midget was hurtling at him with a meat-cleaver, and then with a deft twist of the wrist, snapped its neck; silencing the ear piercing screech that it had been emitting. Looking to his right at what his arm was holding at shoulder height, Harry was a bit surprised to see a limp bedraggled house-elf, filthy and stinking, with an old rag for a loincloth. Hate issued from the creature's eyes as its broken neck, and Harry's grasp, stopped it from gaining a breath to issue curses at Harry. Harry was sure that it was cursing at him, as though the little beast couldn't really speak, Harry's lip reading was definitely telling him a tale of words that would peel the paint off of a vicar's walls. Harry stared at the creature for a few seconds, watching the light slowly dim from the house-elf's eyes until it grew totally still and limp in his grasp.
Dropping the dead house-elf from his hand, Harry turned to look around and complete his examination of the room that had been so rudely interrupted. The room was covered in dust and cobwebs. Harry could hear the distinctive sounds of skittering insects and things that enjoyed the darker corners flee from his presence.
"/Come brothers, I will not harm you without cause. Though I'm not sure if I am willing to share the entirety of this, my home with you, I will definitely find a place for you all./ Harry stated in the magic induced language of scent, skitters and chirps that the creepy crawlies would understand.
In reply, cockroaches crawled out from under the wardrobe, a spider spun its web and descended from the chandelier above, and several doxies fluttered out of the closed curtains to fly a circle around Harry. Raising his hand to face height, a Doxy landed on his hand, its black fur showing that it blended in well with the dust and stains that covered the walls of the dilapidated mansion. Raising the doxy to his shoulder, Harry gave the little creature a place to sit as he walked about the room, the heads of dead house-elves mounted along its ceiling and sleeping paintings cluttering its walls.
Stepping over the corpse of the dead house-elf and walking out into the entryway, Harry approached the family tapestry of the Most Ancient House of Black. Below the burn blasted image of Sirius Black, and connected by a dotted line back to Scorpius, was Harry's face and title, Harry Potter-Black. Apparently the tapestry's magic was too lazy to write out Harry's full title and house names, but who was Harry to blame it, for his full title was definitely a mouthful and would probably have taken up too much room on the tapestry.
"You! What are you doing in my house?" Screamed a painting to his left, "Identify yourself scoundrel!" The painting demanded.
Harry nonchalantly wandered over, the parade of creepy crawlies and fluttering doxies following in his wake. "Why Madam, I am your new Lord." Harry said with a bit of a sardonic smile.
"Impossible! You're no child of mine." The painting screeched "I shall have you thrown out immediately! Kreecher! Kreecher! I command you to expel this Miscreant from my house!" The painting yelled.
"You're calling your house-elf I assume?" Harry questioned with a quirky smile on his lips, "I'm sorry, but Kreecher is … indisposed. I will not be attacked in my own den." Harry finished.
"Impossible! The house magics would have stopped you! Filthy Mudblood! Scum, Dragon droppings! Get out of my house before I have the wards cast you out." The painting screamed, Harry seeing that the placard beneath the screaming women labeled her as Walburga Black. After a few minutes of Harry silently smiling at the painting, doxies flying about his head, the painting grew frustrated. "House! Throw this thief out!" the painting continued, stopping its ranting with a smirk on its face.
Nothing Happened.
Harry looked at the painting, looked around, and then smiled evilly at the painting. "It appears madam that the House recognizes me as its Lord and will not listen to you anymore." Harry stated with a smirk, "As for whom I may be, my name is Harry Potter, but for your purposes, you may call me Harry Potter-Black if you prefer." He said, with a false bow to the painting.
"Harry Potter? Harry Potter? How dare you take control of my house. I know who you are! Half-blood, blood traitor, son of a mudblood whore!" Walburga screamed in anger.
Harry was not amused. "/I am not amused./" Harry stated, "/Do something to keep her mouth busy, would you?/" Harry stated, addressing the little doxy seated on his shoulder.
With a wicked little high pitched chuckle, the little black doxy flittered off his shoulder to hover before the screaming painting, raised its little loin cloth, and let loose with a yellow stream right at the painting's mouth.
"AAAAaaaaaaaagghhhh" The painting of Walburga screamed, darting and dodging around the picture to dodge the doxy's stream. At one point it looked like the doxy was trying to write its name, but as all amusing things must come to an end, so did the doxy's bladder capacity.
Rearranging itself, the doxy again alighted on Harry's shoulder with a smirk on its face. Of course the fluid hadn't entered the actual magic of the painting and gotten to Walburga, but the point had been made as Walburga's screaming had stopped for a while as she caught her breath after running around her painting; apparently pureblood wizards weren't very athletic folk, even in death.
"/Thank you./" Harry said with a nod, which was answered with a nod by the doxy. Then turning towards the painting Harry addressed Walburga again. Raising his left fist towards the painting, he let his signet ring become visible. "Now then, see this here? I am your Lord, and you will treat me as such, with respect and a quiet tongue if nothing else. You will also treat those I bring into this house with respect, or I will figure out another manner with which to close your mouth, permanently." With that said, Harry flipped his hand over and showed her his hand full of wicked claws. "No magic in this house will stop me from shredding you, is that clear?" Harry said the last part with a growl.
The painting of Walburga looked at him with horror for a second, and then her mouth opened and closed for a few seconds without making a sound, finally, she bowed her head and averted her eyes and stated a simple, "Yes my Lord, I will do as you say."
"Good!" Harry said cheerily, "I hate having to repeat myself, and I find myself a bit fast tempered." With that said, Harry walked away from the now subservient painting and towards what he assumed was the kitchen, if his memories from Scorpius were anything to go by.
Pushing through the door to the kitchen, Harry noted that the dining area of 12 Grimmauld Place was as dirty and in need of repair as the other parts of the house. Pulling his phoenix wand from his holster, he went about the task of scourgifying the kitchen table, sink, and other surfaces. The refrigerator was thankfully without a boggart and Harry was able to quickly clean it and place his purchased food in its confines. Harry noted that though the phoenix wand felt somewhat good in his hand, it still wasn't the best choice for him. Yes it had been the best wand for him at Ollivander's, but it wasn't the all-round best wand for Harry.
Taking out a large chunk of steak for himself and a loaf of bread for his "family," he chucked the loaf onto the end of the table, and then sat down on an unbroken chair to eat his still raw meal. The doxy leaving his seat on Harry's shoulder to join the cockroaches, centipedes and other crawlies that went to take a bite out of Harry's gift of bread.
Slowly as he ate, he started to come up with an outline of a plan on how he was going to meet his goals.
"What do the wizards and humans rely upon in order to survive? What is the key to their success?" Harry said to himself, using sharp clawed nails as both steak knife and fork to skewer his raw bloody meat. Dipping his finger in the blood, he used it to start painting a diagram out on the freshly cleaned wooden table.
"Hmm, civilization or society at the top, but what is their society built upon?" He mumbled as his fingers traced out his thoughts with the blood from the steak. "Well, you have their tools, and the industry that lets them make more tools I guess, and I guess another would be their money or their system of economy… Hmmm." Harry postulated, drawing three lines from the word "society" with his claw until it connected with the words Tools, Industry, and Economy. Finishing off his steak, he went back to the refrigerator for another slab of meat; he could feel his body healing quickly, fully absorbing the meal in his belly and using it to erase any evidence of his "mistake" from earlier that evening.
Hitching his shoulders to work out the kinks, as the scar tissue of his slash wound was healed and erased, Harry grabbed out a new chunk of meat, unwrapped the bloody chunk, and thunked it back down on his plate. Harry resumed his seat and allowed his train of thought to continue as he ate. "If I don't take out their tools, then they will have the ability to destroy nature and rebuild any industry or economy that I destroyed, even if I cull them. If I don't take out there industry, they will be able to make more tools and earn more money to further their economy, and if I don't destroy their economy, they will be able to build more tools and further increase their industry… hmm, an interrelated mess!" Harry said with frustration, pounding his hand into the middle of his diagram creating a bloody handprint which obscured his outline of a plan.
"Bloody hell!" Harry yelled at the ceiling in frustration, his back finishing its healing as it was fueled by his meal. "I can't even watch my own back, how am I supposed to take out the wizards economy, industry, and current tools all at the same time!" He yelled. "Bloody fucking hell, if I destroy the wizards assets they will just grab them from the muggles, I'd have to destroy both of their societies at the same bloody time to have any hope of success!" He shouted, ranting as he kicked back from his chair and sent his fist crashing through the table in front of him; the other end of the table lifting off the floor a foot and sending his little brethren scurrying about the room with their captured bits of bread.
And then it hit him what he'd just said, and it was the key to Harry's problems. Harry knew what he needed to do; at least the main goal. Harry realized that he had to destroy the wizards' society, the muggles', everything they survived on, and all at the same time. However there was no way that he could do it on his own, and the first thing Harry needed was somebody to watch his back.
Swallowing his last handful of meat, Harry concentrated on flicking a Repairo at the table, dusted off his hands and walked through the kitchen doors towards the front of the house, his cloak fluttering behind him due to his fast pace. Stopping in front of the tapestry, Harry noted the two family members who had been burnt off of the family tree, one Andromeda Tonks, formerly nee' Black, and one Sirius Black.
"Well, there's no time like the present I guess." Harry said with maniacal glee and an evil grin on his face, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Swirling his cloak back so it covered his torso, he raised the hood to cover his features, and apparated away with a *Pop*.
Bigsby Dufflepuck and Howard Fluffnutter had been the guards and ferrymen for the island, and prison, of Azkaban for going on 22 years, and their job was always the same. Listen to the wizarding wireless, read the post, escort some despondent criminal to the island and make sure that they didn't try and kill themselves by jumping out to the boat. A spot of tea here, a little nap there, more rowing the boat, and it never changed rain, shine, snow, night or day for 22 years. They spent their days and nights in their little hut on the end of the quay on the mainland side of the water, and it was the same monotony all of the time; just the way they liked it.
It was a cool evening, as it is oft to do in the northern part of Great Britain when the sun goes down in July, a bit humid, but comfortable. Their little hut was built out on the far end of the pier, held out over the water by the stilts and girders that housed the ferry's boat house and held up the pier. The two men were sitting inside, listening to the wireless, eating a bit of food.
*Snarf* Bigsby took a big bite of his liver and onions sandwich, chewed, swallowed and then slowly turned to Howard, "What do you want to do tonight Howard?" Bigsby asked.
Howard turned to Bigsby and replied, "The same thing we do every night Bigsby, try to…" Only to be interrupted midsentence as the structure around the two men disintegrated!
KAAAAA-WWWWWHOOOOOOOSSSHHHHH! A waterspout the size of a quidditch field shot out of the ocean like a giant fist, totally obliterating any scrap of the building, dock, ferry, and two men housed inside. The water then quickly receded back into the ocean with a giant SPLASH! As bits and pieces of wood and other tiny bits of debris fluttered down out of the air, only to land and float out to sea on the silently lapping waves.
Out of the darkness and into the scant moonlight that was reflecting off the waves walked a dark figure with a cloak covering its features. "First line of defense down." Harry's voice issued out with glee from under the hood. "Now on to the part that my other self isn't going to like very much."
With that, Harry and his robed figure disappeared, only to be replaced by a giant crouching Nundu that was of an abnormally large size and probably could have only played hide-and-seek if it had a rather large house to hide behind. Launching itself off of the edge of the embankment in a giant leap, the large cat used its powerful form to quickly paddle its way towards the other side of the water and the awaiting prison.
The Nundu pulled itself out of the water and onto the grey stony beach of the Isle of Azkaban, the prison rising through the mist in the distance. Cat's do not like to be bathed, period. The description of a "wet cat" might have fit Harry's image at that moment, but somebody would have been terribly stupid to call him that at the moment, for he was not a happy Nundu. His lack of amusement pretty much set the proper mood for the task at hand though, so he set himself in a quick and silent lope towards the prison; keeping as low as a huge Nundu could so that the mist would obscure the view of him as much as possible.
The fortress of Azkaban was a mighty building of stone and mortar that stretched multiple levels into the sky, with wards that sapped magic and guards that drained the will to live from its prisoners. That was its purpose, to keep prisoners in and in a weakened state. The barracks of the Auror guards were on the inside lower levels of the building. The Dementor guards patrolled the upper floors on the inside; and even the last guards between a prisoner and freedom were on the inside; two floating Dementor guards stationed on the inside of the massive doors to the prison. This was a prison meant to keep its prisoners in, and none of them had ever escaped. All of this was fine by Harry, as he wasn't trying to escape out of Azkaban; he was just trying to get in so he could kill everything in his path.
BOOOOM! The two massive doors swung open, bursting the lock, pinning and smashing the two Dementor guards into the walls on either side of the threshold. Sure, there was no known way for a wizard to "destroy" a Dementor when they were faced with the fear induced miasma that a Dementor created. On the other hand, there was nothing saying that bone, cloaks, and ancient sinew was much of a defense against being smashed into tiny little bits. Sure the Dementor would still exist, but that didn't mean it would function very well.
The mist from outside the fortress swirled around Harry's form as he stepped through the shattered doors, dripping water from his impromptu bath and still ticked off. An alarm klaxon sounded and doors on the back of the main hall slammed open as the Aurors poured out of their barracks to do battle, only to be met with a giant green cloud of death.
Harry wasn't going to hold back this time. He knew he couldn't take chances with an unknown amount of trained wizards coming at him, so as he walked through the front doors he inhaled a deep breath, only to exhale right into the oncoming rush of Aurors and into the barracks behind them. In the confined area, it was an absolute slaughter.
Eyeballs burst, blood flowed from huge pustules that couldn't contain fluids, skin flaked off, pressure on the brain made ears bleed and men scream, hearts beating too fast exploded or seized, and rapid acting leprosy saw several Aurors literally fall to pieces. Through all the death in front of him, Harry kept exhaling. It is amazing how much noxious fumes, pestilence and plague can be exhaled from a Nundu who takes up an entire single story of a building. All around him the death continued unabated, until nothing besides Harry moved before him.
Harry finally stopped his exhalation and stood up to review the damage, the view in the first and basement levels of the Tower of Azkaban were filtered through a green haze of disease. Nothing moved, as Harry had effectively killed off the population of human guards and most likely all of prisoners housed in the bottom most levels of the prison. The memories of Scorpius filtered through his brain, not much was known about the housing situation of the prisoners, but it was known that the human guards rarely attended to the highest security prisoners on the top floors; the floors that were patrolled solely by the Dementors. Harry's diseased breath would be heavier than air, so it would seek out the lowest reaches of the prisons as it drifted through the rooms around him.
Crunching and squishing his way into the room, the weight of his body causing the deceased corpses to ooze between the pads of his feet, Harry noticed the air start to grow colder, the bits of water that were on his spotted coat started to freeze, he knew that the Dementors were coming.
Dementors are an incredibly fear inspiring creature, able to suck out souls. However, that is all that they are, an incredible fear inspiring creature. What most don't know about animals and Dementors is that Dementors main weapon, fear, is incredibly ineffective against the animal mind. Most animals don't understand the complexities of "fear"; their memories aren't distinctive enough to be pulled up in a loop of never ending fear and anguish. Sure animals understand such thoughts as enemy and pain, and they can even have an adrenaline rush that simulates the same physiological response as "fear." However, their animal instincts keep them to a more basic level of fight or flight, kill or run, never rising to the level of the human defined fear. An animagus would still be affected to a greater extent by the Dementor inspired fear, because their mind is still largely that of a wizard; the animal instincts only a shield that might keep them from going insane but still allowing them to relive their worst memories. This is different than what Harry was, Harry wasn't a measly little animagus, Harry was joined to the spirit of the Nundu. Harry was a Nundu. At that moment the only thing going through Harry's proud Nundu mind was, "Why should I be afraid, for Nundu's fear nothing."
A wave of a hundred Dementors poured into the room, swirling in frenzy as they tried to deflect the attackers advance. Their bony bodies and cloak covered husks were playthings for Harry's claws and paws.
Jumping into the air, paws flashing like he was punching a high-speed boxer's bag, Harry was like a housecat swatting butterflies trapped in a box.
Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!... Every bat of a paw slicing through cloaks and crunching Dementors into the ground, walls, or ceiling; the cold of the Dementors' presence not filtering through Harry's thick fur, only frosting over the moisture left over from his swim. "Screw, the Patronus." Harry thought to himself, "I'll stick with blunt force trauma." He said, lashing out with his back paws to crush two Dementors into the wall who were attempted to flee out of the shattered doors.
A couple of more swats later, the bodies of the dead Aurors were now joined by the crumpled heaps of twitching Dementors. Sure they were still functioning, they may even be able to put themselves back together again, but Harry would be finished with his work by then.
{Time to Hunt} Harry said with a growl to himself, slinking down the halls of the prison to start his work at the bottom. The screams of the prisoners started up a few seconds later. Like rats trapped in their cages, the owner was not home to stop the cat from feasting.
Sirius Black shivered in his cold prison cell, hiding behind his bed and curled up in the corner with his four feet underneath him, the Dementor induced haze of fear long gone, but a new type of fear still very much present. His prison cell was at the end of a hall with a window that allowed the cold ocean breezes to blow into his cell any time, night or day. He was on the hall with the most feared death eaters, but as the "Betrayer of the Potters" he was "given" the cell right in front of the Dementor Guard's patrol station; a Dementor always stood outside his door for the last 11 years of his sentence. That guard was always there, up until about 5 minutes ago. It had been a welcome and unexpected respite, but then the screaming started. Sirius could hear it issuing up from the halls, and hear it screeching on the wind that whipped into his cell, and he was afraid. And so he tucked his malnourished dog body into the back corner, and did the only thing he could, wait.
"The Dark Lord Comes! He's coming for us! His most loyal servants!" Screeched his cousin Bellatrix from down the hall, ending in an insane cackle that absolutely wouldn't stop. It was like nails on a chalkboard to him.
He growled and whined to himself, Sirius wished her husband or her brother-in-law would do something to shut her up, but they were locked up in cells across and down the hall from her, so were slated to suffer the same as Sirius. Sirius really hoped it wasn't Voldemort, he didn't have a death wish. Though he still blamed himself for the death of James and Lily, he knew he wasn't a traitor. He had a lot to live for! Ok, that was a lie, he had two things to live for: to take care of Harry Potter, and to kill Peter Pettigrew… ok, maybe three things, he needed to prank the world for putting him in this hell hole.
Suddenly Bellatrix's cackles stopped and turned into screaming! The scream continued in a blood curdling crescendo, followed by the sound of cracking boards, crumpling iron, and then a growl and a crunching of bones and a splashing of blood that echoed down the hall. The hall was silent for a second, but then the Lestrange brother's and other death eaters picked up the same pattern of noises that Bellatrix had just made, and then silence. "Nope, definitely not the Dark Lord," Sirius thought as he wet himself.
Suddenly, at the doorway, Sirius saw a huge nose block out the moonlight that filtered through the bars in the door.
SNIIIIIIIFFFFFFF, Sniff, sniff sniff. Growl…
Went the huge twitching nostrils, until they disappeared from view. Only for the door to be blasted off its hinges with a bang, and a huge head and shoulders to squeeze its way into Sirius's cell.
"Shit! That's it, game over." Was all Sirius could think, as the head got closer to him, blood dripping from its maw, claws scraping on the stone floor, and great green saucers of eyes staring down at him. The last thing he remembered before passing out was the mouth opening to swallow him, and then he knew no more.
AN: Yep, I'm going to leave it there and let you all suffer. Have fun! Hey, this evil thing is kind of fun… I should do this more often. :-)