Disclaimer: Sometimes I wonder if anyone actually whines about copyright infringement on this site, or it's all just a myth someone made up to scare fanfic authors into learning to spell the word "disclaim."

AN/ Okay, so I've finally figured out where this is going, and due to that, I feel the need to state a few things real quick:

1) Bill, in the show, has only recently developed physical form. In this fic, he does have physical form, which makes no sense considering it takes place before GF even starts. Do not freak out. It will be explained in the plot of this plotless fic.

2) The Pines twins are bros, but we know from "A Tale of Two Stans" that they never worked together in Gravity Falls. I think a while ago, I magicked up that it was an AU, but I retract that statement. It will be explained in the plot of this plotless fic.

Until then, I apologize for this glorious mess, but hopefully, when the time comes, I can get to explaining things better. But for now, enjoy.

/wat

Ron cast a sidelong glance to the other parties in the group. It was actually kind of strange – a few months ago, if someone had told him he'd be engaging in "extra-curricular" activities with a mix of Slytherins, upperclassmen, and Professor Sprout, he'd have called them crazy. Now, on his way to meet with the rest of the cult in the Forbidden Forest, it seemed perfectly reasonable.

The cult didn't recognize petty House rivalries or barriers of age and status as anything at all relevant to their cause. What mattered was the heart. The heart, and how cold and devoid of remorse it was.

Ron smiled, though it was mostly hidden by the shadow cast by his hood. Cold and remorseless. He felt invincible.

And if Harry's cryptic announcement of their next meeting was anything to go by, he'd soon get a chance to see just how cold and remorseless he could be. As an eleven-year-old boy who was raised in an era of relative peace, Ron hadn't yet had a chance to truly demonstrate how ruthless he could be in a slow, agonizing fight to the death.

Hermione fell into stride with him, and Ron could only tell it was her because her bushy hair stuck out of her hood. "Hey, Weasley," she said from the corner of her mouth, "any clue what Harry's got in store tonight?"

Ron shrugged. "How the bloody hell should I know? You're his best friend. You and Malfoy and I guess Professor Sprout." The two of them craned their necks to see Sprout, trotting along behind a few third-years, having an animated conversation with Cedric Diggory. Full-body cloak or no, Diggory's physique was impossible to mistake.

Hermione chewed her thumbnail somewhat nervously as they trotted into the forest. Their path was marked by red splatters of ambiguous origins, though the telltale scent of copper and human suffering implied it certainly wasn't ketchup. Deep into the Forbidden Forest they ventured, three dozen or so hooded figures, bound together by a mutual interest. They were one group of many.

The New Religion had spread far and it had spread quickly. Now they were going to get down to business.

They entered into a clearing, which until recently had been filled with trees. Now, all that remained was scorched earth and many a stump. In the center, there stood a proud, golden shrine to their eternal overlord, Bill Cipher.

Ron's group, along with others who filled the clearing, hunkered down for a spectacle. There wasn't much going on in the way of conversation, other than a few clusters of people who were going over the principles of hate, and the targets of their inexplicable rage. The Pines brothers, McGucket, and Time Baby.

The very thought of Time Baby and his adorable, squishy, revolting face made Ron want to throw up and scream at the same time.

All idle noise in the clearing died abruptly, as out of nowhere, space itself was torn open. A portal had opened up – dark and murky and red inside – and out popped Harry Potter. Out popped Highpriest Kid Cipher.

"Good evening, everyone! Didja miss me? Admit it – you missed me!" Harry greeted them, winking knowingly at the crowd. He took a deep bow before the shrine of Bill Cipher, and a wave of "Guten Abend, Highpriest" and "Hullo, Harry" sounded from the cultists. Harry was adorned in expensive-looking gold robes, designed to flare out dramatically at the bottom. It made him vaguely resemble a triangle.

Ron himself wore a triangular pendant, but he felt like it wasn't enough, comparatively speaking.

They took the first three minutes to sing hymns of Bill Cipher's glory.

"He sens kno heps, he sens kno heps, he sens kno heps, he sens kno heps!" they all sang in unison. Ron didn't know if it was Latin, or a language older still. He imagined it was the first words mankind managed, though it might have also been a secret message – a backwards one, perhaps.

In any case, the three minutes passed, and by the end of it, Ron's voice was hoarse.

"Children of the New Religion, the night has come," Harry started, clasping his hands as if in a prayer, though everyone knew Harry answered only to one god – Bill Cipher. Bill, Bill, Bill, Bill! "I know it's early – I know lots of things, of course – but our eternal godlord of the universe has deemed you ready. It's time for... the Horrible Determining of the Pecking Order."

It sounded fairly self-explanatory, so instead of inquiring after the goal of the Horrible Determining of the Pecking Order, Ron raised his hand and asked, "What would you have us do?"

Harry's grin was unnervingly wide, and showed off far too many teeth that all looked far too pointy. Madness, some kind of wretched, inhuman glee, twinkled in his eyes. Ron got a twisty feeling in his gut that no one would come out of the Great Determining the same way they'd entered it.

"This forest is full of mystery," Harry said airily, sagely, gazing now into the distance. "Short version: you are to go into the trees and slaughter all living creatures you find there. You are to take their heads and bring them to me. The amount of heads you return with will determine your place in our Pecking Order."

Harry looked around, making sure that his numerous cultists had understood his words. "You have until dawn. Anyone not present before their pile at that time will be violently removed from the cult." A heartbeat passed, and he bowed his head. "Begin."

Thus, madness spread through the forest like blood blossoming from an exit wound. Fast, steady, in all directions, and fatal.

Ron had never felt so alive.

-O-

"Well, well, well well, wellwellwell," hummed Bill, materializing beside Harry. They watched the children, teens, and Professor Sprout gallop into the woods, screaming wordlessly to express their bloodthirsty, basic, human desire to kill. "Quite a crowd you've manifested here. I haven't seen a bunch this crazy since... oh, snap! Not since the C'thakta-Nul Slaughters of 1840B6." Bill laughed, a sound that echoed and rattled and sounded far too pleased by the memory of bloodshed. "That was fun."

Harry gave a jovial chuckle in agreement.

"Whoa, killjoy at six o'clock," Bill said suddenly. Harry turned around to see Hermione, accompanied by Draco, walking somewhat hesitantly towards them. Bill shifted his gaze to Harry. "Looks like we got some naysayers on our hands."

Harry sighed. Naysayers. They were never any fun.

"Harry, we need to talk to you," Hermione started, sparing Bill naught but a single, anxious glance. Draco, on the other hand, stared with his mouth agape and his eyes wide. Befuddlement.

Harry had taken a seat on a stump not far from Bill's shrine. "Whatever you need, luv," he said, smiling amicably, though a certain degree of instability was still present behind his glasses.

"Oh my Merlin! I killed a unicorn!" someone screamed from within the forest.

"Unicorn heads are worth two heads of anything else!" Harry shouted at the trees. His words were quickly followed by several people shouting about how they had to find more unicorns.

Hermione shuddered physically. "Harry, this is madness," she insisted.

"This is Sparta!" he insisted, loudly, hopping up to stare Hermione in the face.

She looked confused. "What does-?"

"Give it a few decades. Follow the cinema. What were you saying?"

Hermione looked like she was about to demand an elaboration, but shook her head and pulled her hood back. "Harry, you just sent nearly a hundred people into the forest and told them to- to kill anything they could get their hands on," she said, putting emphasis on the second part of her sentence. "I just think, you know, this whole thing has gone a little bit of a lot too far."

Harry blew a loud raspberry, disbelieving. "Too far?" he said, as Bill cackled at the very notion. "Dearest Hermione, this is just to determine the Pecking Order! Wait until you see what comes next!"

She looked green in the moonlight. "I..." She took a deep breath. "I don't want to see what's next. And neither does Draco."

"Huh?" Draco finally looked away from Bill, taking on the appearance of a deer caught in headlights.

"Oh, of course you want out of this, don't you, Draco?" Hermione said. "It's really all crazy. A cult. That- that triangle there. Insanity."

"I have a name, you know," grumbled Bill. "I mean, Insanity isn't far off, but it's sort of completely different in every feasible way. Other than that your stupid human mouths are capable to pronouncing it properly."

"Draco, do you really want out?" Harry asked.

"No, no. My father taught me to follow power. It's the only way to get ahead in life," Draco shrugged. "Speaking of, Mr. Triangle, could you teach me to do that thing Harry does where he pulls goat limbs out of his navel instead of lint? He was doing that at dinner and it's just the coolest thing-"

"Draco!" gasped Hermione.

"Hermione!" snapped Draco.

"Bill Cipher!" said Bill Cipher.

"I don't understand, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "Why would you want out? I mean, I know this looks barbaric, but I assure you that it's completely necessary for the greater good."

"Oh, sick, I'm completely covered in centaur entrails!" they heard someone shout from the forest. "And they taste delicious!" A first-year ran through the clearing with a horse leg in one hand, chasing after a spider, which was hissing and screaming for mercy.

Hermione glared at Harry.

"Okay, maybe by boring people standards, it's a bit much," Harry conceded. "But I swear, it'll all pay off soon! We're, ultimately, helping people!"

Bill laughed. "That's a load of unicorn innards!" he giggled.

Cedric came into the clearing, and dumped the heads of two bears and a unicorn into a pile. "Hello, Granger!" he said, grinning. His mouth was bleeding – that, or he'd bitten into something's flesh. In any case, blood coated his otherwise-pearly teeth, and ran down his chin. "You ought to get in on this! Oh, but watch out for the mysterious hooded figure – there's some creep running around the forest. I found him eating a unicorn! But I don't think he's with us. He wasn't even decapitating it, just, like, drinking it, the sicko. Is that Bill Cipher?"

"The one and only, Spare Meatsack!" confirmed Bill. "Now get back to slaughtering innocent creatures to prove your worth to my cause!"

"Yes, milord!" chirped Cedric, giving a wee bow before scuttling back into the woods.

Hermione turned back to Harry, intent on berating him for how he abused his influence, but her mouth snapped shut when she saw him tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Some creep eating unicorns – without us?" Harry said in a low voice. "Well, well, well. It seems my old friend has decided to go on a midnight stroll in the Forbidden Forest. Hermione – Draco – make yourselves useful and make sure nobody messes with anyone's pile but their own. Bill?"

"Nah, Kid, I think you can handle him. I'm gonna go back to Gravity Falls and see what ol' Sixer is up to," Bill said, his tone lax. He tore open a rift in spacetime, from which many screams bellowed and many more trendy pop singles sounded. The sound of pure human suffering. "Oh, and don't buy anything from wolves! I know they all sound persuasive, but I tried their stuff once, and frankly, it was like huffing a banana."

With that, Bill disappeared, heedless of Draco's shrill objection. "You haven't shown me any tricks yet!" shrieked Draco as the rift in spacetime closed up.

"It's okay, Draco. I'll show you how to do the navel-limb trick tomorrow," Harry assured him, before fleeing into the forest with a group of firsties who'd just returned with several spider heads.

Hermione glared at Draco as he waved goodbye to their Highpriest. "This is ridiculous," she grumbled.

"I know. You'd think with all the time he wastes, he'd find an opening to show me a party trick or two," Draco drawled.

Hermione punched his arm and Draco nearly started crying. "Hey, what the heck?" he whined. No one ever punched him. It hurt. Hermione's fists were small and compact, thus the force of her blow was concentrated in a small area and hurt that much more. Also, Draco had a very low pain tolerance. "I was joking! Of course this is ludicrous – but what's even more ludicrous is thinking that Harry would just go along with whatever bleeding-heart Christmas-special humane moral-high-ground speech you throw at him."

That piqued Hermione's interest. "What do you mean?"

By now, Draco had recovered from the blow, but he still rubbed his arm as he spoke. "What I mean is, you have to be subtle. Play by his rules, learn how he thinks, then when he trusts you completely..."

"Manipulate him?" gasped Hermione. "Draco, that's low!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Call it whatever you will, but is a little bit of psychological meddling really more messed up than – well – than this?" He gestured to the clearing, which was filling up with more and more disembodied heads. Hermione had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Of course Draco was right. He was the only other first year who could compete mentally with Hermione, and her sole ally in her mission to pull Harry's head out of his arse.

"I get what you mean," she sighed. "But I'm no good at being dishonest with people. Surely you know that?"

Draco laughed, a soft little chuckle that Hermione found extremely patronizing. "Granger, Granger, Granger. It's not dishonesty: it's problem-solving. I think it's high time you learned the difference."

A series of loud, wordless wails sounded from the forest, and above all, they heard delighted cackling on Harry's behalf. Draco and Hermione hunkered down below the shrine, now speaking in hushed voices and watching the pupils and one teacher scuttle across the clearing from time to time.

They were discussing ways they could subtly convince Harry not to be a nut anymore.

-O-

Snape watched, transfixed in a mixture of disbelief and disgust, as Ronald Weasley pounced at a centaur and sunk his teeth into its neck. The centaur screamed, pleading with the heavens above to send help, to get this savage ginger off of it, but it was too late. The boy had already twisted its neck in an unnatural direction, successfully felling the beast. With deft, blood-soaked hands, Ronald Weasley whipped out his wand and muttered something – a simple cutting curse, Snape assumed – and in a moment he had the centaur's decapitated head in hand.

Whistling, the ginger sauntered off, intending to go end more lives, doubtlessly.

Snape, who was safely perched in the branches of a tree and obscured by the shadows, breathed in and out slowly. He was trying to understand what he'd just seen. And calm his churning stomach.

An eleven-year-old boy, from a respectable (if annoying) family, just leaped at a sentient being and killed it - him - taking his head as a trophy.

Now, Severus Snape had never been sheltered, coddled, or had anything sugar-coated for him in his life, and had dealt with some of the most effed-up people the wizarding populace had ever spat out. But with a dawning sense of horror, Snape realized he wasn't dealing with anyone or anything that the wizarding populace was responsible for:

Demons. Or something dark and taboo like that.

He gulped. Harry Potter.

Albus couldn't ignore this.