A/N: Woot! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A THREE CHAPTER STORY (it was actually supposed to be a one-shot), WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE LUCE?!
Warnings: Uh… badly written emotional breakdown and Gore? Language, Slash, agh… the same as always!
Pairing(s): LVHP (I can't even make anything remotely touchy! It would seem wrong to Harry's character…)
Disclaimer: Everybody get a~ Blurred lineessss~~~~
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
Thanks to Dobby the house elf's warning, the Order was ready when the alert came. It was doubted at first but Severus had confirmed it after returning from a meeting with the Dark Lord. They were not aware when so Dumbledore had split them into groups to survey Privet Drive once it was confirmed.
So when Mundungus Fletcher ran into Grimmauld place a week and a half later, all were present aside from the children who were to stay in their rooms every night. They made fast work of apparating to Privet Drive, where the home of Harry Potter stood.
Screams and explosions were what greeted the Order once they arrived. Immediately, almost as if it was anticipated, wards were erected around the chaos, preventing anyone from escaping and preventing anyone outside the wards to see or hear anything that is happening inside. And it was not constructed by the Order, nor can they be taken down because of the sheer strength it held.
What they were expecting was utter chaos of muggles running around, away from the cloaked and masked Death Eaters, but all they saw was the chaos of destroyed structures and debris that sometimes had spatters of blood. No muggles, no Death Eaters taking chase. All were inside houses, the Death Eaters presumably apparating from house to house, casting spells from Reducto to Fiendfyre to destroy, torturing in the privacy the locked up houses.
"Albus," Moody lumbered over to the wizened old wizard, "there are wards all around. Every house is warded, it is practically impossible to get out or enter. Unless you're a Death Eater." Moody's magical eye kept on spinning around, trained in one of the identical houses. "There is only one Death Eater per house," declared Moody, scanning the area. "At this rate, this place will be nothing more than hell before we even manage to take down the wards around one house."
"Whoever made these wards made it impenetrable even to most experienced Curse Breakers…" said Bill Weasley, looking around in morbid fascination, wand in hand.
The group looked around in shock and horror as two other houses exploded into flames, screams dying at the same time as the houses were engulfed by the flame. All of them knew what fate had done to them.
Molly Weasley went pale when she caught sight of a bloody hand in one of the remains of a collapsed house; smell of burnt flesh permeated through the air though none paid attention, too shocked to be able to do anything.
"Dung," started Sirius Black who was standing behind them, looking around knowing that Harry, at least, wasn't with his relatives anymore, "how were you able to come to us?"
They looked at said man only to cast Protego as Mundungus sent several curses to them, eyes dilated as if he was not in control of himself.
"Shit."
Mundungus let out an insane laugh, "You won't be able to stop this," he sent a Killing Curse to Shacklebolt who was able to block it with a summoned debris, cackling all the way, "you see, we're almost finished here and Severus, your dear spy, is quite happy with what he is doing… against his will."
This was followed by a loud explosion and the distinct voice of Severus Snape let out a laugh.
"What did you do to Severus?" asked Dumbledore, twinkle in his eyes completely gone and narrowed in righteous anger.
Mundungus sent another Killing curse at Shacklebolt, hitting nothing when the Auror dodged, "Oh nothing, just giving him something that is his field of expertise…"
Remus growled, green eyes replaced by amber. The werewolf lunged at him but he dodged with grace the real Mundungus never could have.
"Ooh, you've got a werewolf here!" exclaimed what seemed to be Mundungus mockingly, "Never thought you would be in cohorts with such a dark creature, Headmaster Dumbledore."
"What did you do to Dung?" asked Moody, both eyes narrowed, "I can see that you aren't using polyjuice but the only spell that could control people is the Imperius and that requires the user to be at close distance with the victim. We're the only people here."
Mundungus let out a laugh, "How can you be sure?" With that, the dilated look vanished, and Mundungus Fletcher fell, unconscious.
Dumbledore let out a defeated sigh eyes looking around only to stop when he caught sight of number 4 standing tall and whole, not at all like its destroyed and burnt neighbors. And hope, even though small, rose within him. He braced himself and faced his comrades.
"We must do our best to stop this from continuing anymore."
Everyone nodded to each other. They broke away in groups to at least try even though they knew it would be futile. They stopped, however, when Dumbledore called their attention.
"Alastor," said Dumbledore, still staring at number 4, "can you see anyone inside number 4 Privet Drive?"
Moody's magical eye swerved to the only house standing untouched in the chaos, "Only one person is inside. From what I can tell, it is male. The wards are too thick to see anything else other than his form."
"Bill, I want you to check the wards there," instructed Dumbledore, making his way to the house, gesturing to the others to do what they can.
"Of course," responded Bill as he jogged up to the house, resolve focused on being able to help despite knowing whatever they could do would only prove futile unless time stopped and gave them enough time to bring down every single ward containing the residents and houses to their terrible fate.
He immediately ran a scan to the wards and found, to his surprise, that it was riddled with so many holes. It was all easy to break through, though it was layered by so many of its type. He finished after only a minute without even breaking a sweat. It was as if—
"Headmaster," said Bill urgently to the wizard holding the door knob, "it was too easy to break through, what if this is a trap?"
Dumbledore's eyes got their twinkle back, although dimmed, "Of course it is, my boy." He entered the house and dodged at the green light that greeted him.
"Tom."
"Dumbledore."
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
Harry sighed for what seemed like a thousandth time.
He sat on the cemented ground, head on top of his folded arm, flicking pieces of gravel on the ground. He was bored, so, so, so, so bored. Can't Voldemort have allowed him to go to at least one house to have some fun? Of course not, he was to stay somewhere not in Privet Drive after he had retrieved the Dursleys and played tour guide to the order.
He was the one to create the wards! It isn't just fair.
You were the one who suggested all of this.
Harry sighed, Yeah yeah.
He did allow you to play with the Order though.
Harry grinned, his emerald green and blood red eyes gleaming with mirth as he remembered their faces.
I guess it's fine because of that. Although, I do wish I could have done more than that, perhaps taking one of them? I already want to start on my Kick-the-Bucket list.
Tommy receded though Harry's other eye remained red. It became like that a few days ago, Tommy and Voldy said that it was probably because of the continuous exposure to Voldemort's magic and Tommy, being a Horcrux that had merged with Harry, it had a physical effect.
Raiding Privet Drive was a decision Voldemort made which Harry found out from Kreacher who heard it from Dobby after giving him his Invisibility Cloak saying that Sirius Black instructed the deranged house elf. This led to Harry questioning the elf about what Sirius Black knew—momentarily skipping the 'raiding Privet Drive without his knowledge' part—and the house elf happily told him everything, complete with insults. Harry was happy to note that the Order was running around in circles.
Harry was rather adamant that Voldemort would attack Privet Drive without his knowledge; he still had a play date with his cousin after all and if Voldemort accidentally (this came from the man's mouth) dispatches them, his playdates would be cancelled and he would be removed three playmates. After asking (badgering) Voldemort for two days straight—yes, including the nights—the man had relented with a sigh, Harry cheering. And the plans were altered.
Harry had wanted Severus to be killed but the Potions Master was still of much use to Voldemort so he asked the man if he could just, a little bit, break the greasy git. Voldemort had agreed—reluctantly, might the man himself add—hence the way Severus acts like a maniac yet well-behaved (Harry giggled at this) when it comes to potions.
Next were the methods. Though Harry liked the idea of utter chaos, they didn't really need the muggles to know about magic so he had set up the wards. Voldemort agreed because Harry could give a huge headache when he put his mind to it.
All these were fine and all but then the Order knew and both Voldemort and Tom would be damned if they let Harry up against them though both knew the teen was very much capable of holding his own. Nagini had a hissy fit when she found out that Harry will be going to a raid that the Order knew about.
Thus why Harry was sitting in a random place, flicking and kicking pebbles and gravel, sulking for all he was worth.
Hey Tommy, can I really not take Kingsley or Diggle?
There was silence as Tommy pondered over his question.
You could. Probably. Just don't get seen by the Order. Nagini will have our hides if she even smells faint blood on you.
Harry jumped up in excitement, clapping delightedly.
Yes! Thanks Tommy!
He apparated directly into Privet Drive, the wards allowing him entrance as he was the one who created it. Happily, Harry noted that the Order split themselves up into small groups, two to three people in one house. Over half of Privet Drive was already destroyed, the Fiendfyre taking its time to burn houses to the ground.
Harry cackled, "Idiots."
He felt the layers of weak wards he put around number 4 fall down. He knew Voldemort was there so ignored it and pretty much a minute or so afterwards, curses started to fly.
Harry made quick work of activating the containment wards he already set up around his once house. Only Voldemort would be able to leave. As Bill Weasley was the only Curse Breaker the Order had, he was probably inside as well, so maybe he could die. Pity. Red hair is said to be rare. Or they could have just suffered from protein deficiency…? Who knew, Weasleys weren't known for their money.
Knowing that it was only a matter of time before the raid was over, Harry scanned the messy street, looking for a certain black and bald wizard. He'd probably be only able to see the clothes—not that he was a racist, he just hated the man especially when the first thing he said to him was that.
Harry found his target with Tonks and Hestia Jones trying in vain to blast the ward protected door in a particularly noisy house. It was one of the odd houses that still contained living residents. Though, when he noticed exactly what house it is, Harry knew who the owners were. It was the Polkiss'.
He apparated directly behind Tonks startling them, and pointed his holly wand to the house.
"Bombarda maxima."
All of the supports of the house exploded, the wards allowing his magic to pass through it. This stopped the noises inside the house, not at all caring about the Death Eater inside.
"Incendio."
And the house was lit with fire.
"H-Harry…?"
Harry glanced at Tonks who was looking at him with shock, letting his gaze pass over her, he noticed Kingsley and Jones were the same. Harry grinned brightly at them, not bothered that he was found since it was his intention. Not one of them will live to tell the tale though.
"Hi Tonks!" said Harry cheerily, waving his hand, "Been a while! Unfortunately, we don't have much time so…" here, Harry trailed off and pointed his wand to a confused Jones.
"Diffindo."
Her head was severed from her body, spurting a bit of blood as it slid off and her body falling down at their feet. Tonks screamed, attracting the others' attention and Kingsley pointed his wand to Harry.
Harry's grin turned feral, "Sorry but I really need to cut this short, Kings, you coming with me!" He wandlessly stunned the man and used a spare portkey to transport him to where the Dursleys are. Turning to Tonks, he let a sharp smile grace his mouth, "Reducto."
Tonks dodged the spell, showing that she was an Auror despite being clumsy.
"Wait, wait! I changed my mind!" exclaimed Harry, creating obstacles so the others will be hindered, "You're a Metamorphmagus and I still have my concerns so, you also coming with moi!"
Giggling, Harry sent various spells in fast completion and Tonks was unable to dodge the third one, releasing a scream from her as it was the Cruciatus curse. Harry cut it off and threw another portkey to her, activating as soon as it made contact. He put up tons of wards, along with what is already there, around the cell so whatever they do, they won't be able to escape using either magical or muggle means. Or both. Who knew how creative they can be.
Harry sent a smirk to the arriving group, only his red eye visible to them. He let out a laugh when he heard the gasp of Molly Weasley before apparating away just as there was a loud explosion coming from number four, a figure he knew as the Dark Lord exiting.
"Morsmordre!"
The Dark Mark appeared in the night sky, marking the place as a place where unseen horrors has been done, giving the intention of a reminder to those who survived the war.
The wards fell down with ferocity that had the Order members knocked down, loud cracks of apparation echoing around them.
With that, the Order was left alone with the burning houses and debris, screams dying out as the last house collapsed. It had been a hopeless cause, not one of them able to do anything that could have saved the people that resided in the small suburb.
"Albus—" gasped Molly as the battered form of the wizard ambled his way to them, "Albus what- what happened- this- we- we couldn't do anything at all."
"I apologize," said the wizened old wizard, eyes cast down in apology, "If I had perhaps done more—"
"You've done what you can," growled Moody, trudging over the gathering group "It was those bastards that did this."
"Hey, where's Dora?" asked Sirius, looking around once he arrived with Remus.
No one answered, Molly holding back her tears and Arthur looking away. They had been there. They had seen Tonks be taken and they hadn't done anything.
"Bill…" Molly looked around frantically. "Where's Bill?"
"I believe we should return back before the Aurors arrive," surprisingly, this came from Sirius, grey eyes dark with anger.
Dumbledore nodded in agreement and they all apparated back to their headquarters.
As soon as they arrived, Sirius kicked a chair in anger, piecing together what had happened. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. They all ignored the screech coming from the painting of the late Walburga Black, too absorbed in grief. Finally, Molly broke the silence.
"Headmaste- Albus," whispered Molly, eyes unseeing, "Wh- where's Bill?"
Dumbledore sagged, looking every bit as old as he really is, "Voldemort killed him."
"What- what do you mean Voldemort killed him? Bill can't- Bill didn't even have to be there!" screeched Molly in shock and misery, the words registering into her mind, "I can't- Bill he- I- Why didn't you do anything! You- Albus, you were there! Why didn't you- why didn't you protect him?! He- he's only a child! I- shouldn't have- no- no, no, no, no, that can't be true Bill—" She broke down crying.
Arthur hugged his wife tightly, shushing her under his breath, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Muffled steps reached their ears and the door opened to admit the children.
"Mum—?" said Ron, walking over to his mother along with Fred, George, and Ginny, "Wh-what's wrong?"
Molly continued with her mantra, hands gripping tightly to nothing.
"Hey—"
"—we noticed—"
"—the distinct lack—"
"—of certain—"
Hermione elbowed the both of them, brown eyes tearing up as she pieced together what happened. She remained silent off to the side as the mourning family supported each other; Ron to the side along with the twins not knowing how to deal with something like this and Ginny with her mother.
"He-" whispered Remus, leaning over the wall eyes distinctly misty, "He was there? What about Tonks— Shacklebolt— Hestia—?"
Arthur was the one who answered, voice hoarse, "They- someone attacked them. Both Kingsley and Tonks were taken but… Hestia- she—" Arthur did not continue, knowing that they knew what he meant. Remus didn't know what's better, being killed or being captured.
Molly calmed a little, her eyes blazing with fury and determination, knowing whose fault it was that this happened to them. She could mourn later, when all of this is done. She is a mother first but then, she's also a war veteran. She had survived then, she would too, now, and she'll be taking her family with her even at the cost of her own life.
"He would pay," she declared softly yet strongly, stroking her little girl's hair, "That- that bastard will pay for everything he had done to those innocent lives."
"Voldemort may have done a great impact now," nodded Dumbledore, "but we can still fight for those who have fallen."
This brought silence over them. Eventually, Molly stood up.
"It's still a bit early," said Molly, her voice cracking and dulled but she tried, "so we can still eat," she knew no one could eat right now but she still offered. She made her way inside the kitchen, the others going to the dining room.
Molly entered the dining room with glasses of water, serving it to them. Everyone sat in silence.
"Arthur," said Dumbledore solemnly, "who took Kingsley and young Nymphadora?"
"I-" started Arthur only to clear his throat, "I don't know—"
"He had red eyes," Molly cut him off, "He looked like Him but younger. I was not able to see his face but his eyes were red; the kind of red His eyes are. He used a child, Albus, a child! He didn't even look any taller than Ginny!"
Remus grew horrified, "He- He would use a child?"
"That child could have been Harry!" exclaimed Sirius, throwing the glass of water to the side, the glass shattering upon impact, "Have you seen what he- they did to Snape? Let's not forget the one who controlled Dung!"
And Sirius was correct. He and Remus saw Snape and he looked wrecked; his greasy hair even more matted, pale skin took on a sickly sheen and what changed most was the wildness, the madness in his usually blank obsidian black eyes. Even Sirius, when he escaped Azkaban, looked better.
"That- that couldn't have been Harry—" Molly was cut off.
"That could have been," growled Moody as he took a swig from his flask, "I'm not telling you the he is the child you saw but he could be."
Ron bristled, "Harry would never—"
"Never side with You-Know-Who?" snorted Moody, "Watch what you believe in, boy, you could be as much of a Death Eater as is Lucius Malfoy. Potter may not willingly join the Dark Lord, but who ever said one needs to be willing when it comes to war?"
"Alastor."
The ex-Auror snorted before backing down, "I'm just telling the boy the truth."
"Controlled Dung?" questioned the twins in unison, trying to steer away the conversation from such a topic.
"Dung was controlled by someone but it went to the extent that he seemed to have been possessed but he only showed the signs of being Imperiused, in fact, he forgot everything that happened this day." It was Remus who answered, knowing that everyone needed to know it for precautions.
The twins looked to each other, blinked, then looked at the snoring Mundungus, "How can he sleep when he forgot a whole day?"
Remus shrugged absentmindedly, too lost in his whirling thoughts. Moody had a point in what he said. He glanced uncertainly at Sirius who kept on clenching and unclenching his hand.
What would they do if—not when, he would never be able to believe that—Harry, indeed, became an enemy?
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
"What are you going to do with the other two?"
Voldemort strode in the dungeons, walking in on Harry pulling out a bone from the baby whale's leg. He quickly threw the bone to the side, landing with a clack on the floor and dripping blood where it hit. Harry faced him with a bright grin, smudges of blood marring his pale face, emerald green and blood red eyes gleaming deliriously. Harry waved his blood soaked hands.
"Hullo Voldemort!"
Grateful that at least Harry's… playmate was gagged, he made his way closer, casting his gaze to the holding cells. One was holding the unconscious walrus and horse that Harry calls relatives, and the other—
"You bastard!" snarled a woman with a hair that is a mixture of red, lime green, and black, "What have you done to Harry?!"
"Tonks, calm down," said a black, bald man.
"Don't tell me to be calm, Kingsley! Harry's been missing for a while now and this- this bastard has him!"
Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks. The man was pretty high up in the DMLE and Tonks was pretty new yet skillful in disguise, both are, or were, Aurors, also members of Dumbledore's vigilante group.
"Nothing will happen if you keep snarling like that," said Shacklebolt in reason.
"Actually," cut in Harry, throwing away another piece of bone from the other leg, "something would happen if she keeps snarling like that," Harry poked the castrated part of his cousin, Voldemort wincing as he imagined how much that must have hurt, "you'll get wrinkles, Tonks! Wait, can you get wrinkles? No, don't answer that, I'll try to find out later."
"Harry, you'll need to sleep. Nagini will bite me if you didn't follow your::instructions by mama Nagi:: even once," sighed Voldemort, wondering at the unfairness that Nagini sometimes posed to be.
Harry pouted, "Fine. I know how Nagi is when she gets snippy. I'm just doing this to save your sorry arse."
Voldemort rolled his eyes, "I feel so loved."
Harry stuck his tongue out before going back to the baby killer whale.
"Harry! Harry, what are you- what has this bastard done to you?!"
Voldemort glanced at her then at Harry who was healing the gash he created to pull out the bones and then moving on to the arms to do the same while giggling at the reactions he got. Deciding that he couldn't do anything better, Voldemort sent a dark smirk over to the woman.
"You want to know what I did to him?" asked Voldemort dramatically pulling out his wand, "I—"
"Don't even think about pulling anything remotely suggestive, Voldemort!"
"I wasn't!"
"Really?"
"I really wasn't!"
How can Harry know what he was going to do? It wasn't like Harry can read his mind.
"You know I can't read your mind, that's just ridiculous."
Voldemort's finger twitched. Right, he can't. Harry just spent too much time with Nagini and gained unexplainable skills in reading faces. Which, unfortunately, included his despite his control in his emotions.
"I did nothing to him," said Voldemort instead, throwing a Cruciatus to the black, bald man, relishing in his screams, "technically, that is." He ended the curse and smirked at the snarling woman. He saw the fear in her fiery eyes and laughed cruelly, "I won't do anything too damaging to you as you're Harry's guests and I already see the sign of the curse on you so I won't bother."
"Hey Voldemort," called Harry, throwing away another piece of bone, "do you thi- never mind, leaving dear Dudders alive would have better effects to Uncle and Aunty," Harry quickly healed the gashes smiling happily, "So Big D! You get to be with Uncle Verny and Aunty Petty for a while, aren't you excited to see your parents? Well, I am. For you, that is. I don't think I want to see your or my parents."
Harry removed the gag from beach ball and giggled as it tried to lunge at him despite the pain, failing when his limbs were mostly boneless. Voldemort wondered just how the boy can still move through that. Magic probably. And Harry. Harry was an explanation in of himself.
"F- F… uck y-… youuu…"
Harry cackled, "Oooh, look Voldy! He's growing a backbone!" Laughing cheerily, Harry picked up the littered bones, "You seem to be missing some things Diddykins! I'll give it back to you, don't worry, but it's up to you if you're still going to use it." He dragged the slowly losing conscious body and threw it to the holding cell along with the bones.
"H-Harry…" pleaded Tonks, hair turning a dull brown, "Harry, please- what- what happened—"
Voldemort conjured an arm chair and sat down to watch. This would prove amusing if the, ah, guests wouldn't be rude (the word has a different definition when it comes to Harry, in fact, a lot of words have different meaning to the teen).
Harry turned to them with a grin. He giggled slightly at the image Tonks and Shacklebolt made.
"Nothing happened," said Harry, walking closer to the two, "Well, Tommy did, I guess," He crouched so he was level with her face, his red and green eyes gleaming, "You see, he's the only who held enough control to stop me, and he's the only one I chose to listen to because he cared. So, when he finally pulled out all stops, I have my freedom, my Free Reign."
"You're not Harry Potter…" this came from Kingsley.
Harry cocked his head to the side and giggled, "See, he gets it. I'm not Harry Potter, never had been. You created him and I was forced to take the role when you bastards declared me as a fucking hero."
Harry took a deep breath to calm himself and plopped himself down on the floor, gesturing to the other cell holding his relatives, "They were also forced to care for someone like me, a freak, and of course what would happen? You know, it's quite the same case to me," said Harry with a frown, "See, it's your entire fault that this happened, as you said it before, so you can only blame yourselves."
Tonks turned to glare at Voldemort who looked on in amusement, "What did you do to him!"
"Yeah, what did you do to him?" asked Harry in mirth, knowing that they meant the different person.
"You know what I did to him," answered Voldemort, offering a bottle of butterbeer to Harry who took it happily and chugged it down. After finishing the bottle, Harry decided that Voldemort made for a good pillow and transformed into his Animagus form to curl up on Voldemort's lap. He refused to deal with them a second longer.
"You fucking bastard!" snarled Tonks in anger, "Answer me! Harry- Harry can't be this—"
"And what do you think Harry should be, girl?" asked Voldemort, absentmindedly scratching behind Harry's ear gaining him a purr in response.
"Tonks stop now."
"No Kingsley! This bastard has already done—"
"Nymphadora!" this stopped Tonks, "Nothing you would say would change anything! We're here because of him, the one you defend!"
Voldemort was almost impressed at the man's common sense, which a lot of wizards in the Ministry lacked. Almost.
"Kingsley Shacklebolt, correct?" asked Voldemort rhetorically, standing up carrying the sleeping form of Harry, "I believe your name is written in Harry's list. I do not know what kind of list that is but it's quite long."
With that, Voldemort left them in the dark of the dungeons. Nagini really would bite him even if her venom does not work on either him or Harry. And it hurt like a bitch.
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
"Good morning!"
Tonks shot up from her position curled up on the cold ground. She looked to find the source of the voice and her sight met one red and one green.
"Harry!"
She almost felt relieved to see him but then remembered what had occurred the night before. She and Kingsley had been attacked on a raid, and then got captured. All this done by the one in front of her who looked entirely too cheerful inside a cell.
She refused to believe that that is Harry.
"I told you already, Tonks, I'm Harry," said the teen making his way to the other occupant of the cell and dumping water on him while letting out giggles at the yelp he got, "Tell you what, I'll give you proof aside from my wand. Wait, no, no need for that. I don't really need you to believe me."
Kingsley made eye contact with her, conveying his intentions, and she blinked to let him know she got it. Kingsley twitched a finger and they made to lunge at the boy but he quickly apparated outside the cell.
Harry let out a giggle, "None of that, now," admonished Harry. "I was trying to decide which one of you goes first. Hnn… maybe you can go at the same time? Oh, I haven't done that before! So, okay, you both go at the same time! After Dudders here and Aunty Petty and Uncle Verny."
Tonks paled as did Kingsley, knowing what would happen.
"Oh don't be scared Nymphadora!" said the heterochromic eyed boy while he levitated the three bodies out and chained them to the walls smiling all the while, "I'll just experiment with you to see if some of my curiosities are correct, and Kings is in my list, so you're still different from my dear relatives. I think Voldy wants to be the one to finish them though so they'll take residence here for a bit more until Voldy finishes with his work."
The Harry Tonks knew was the awkward teenager with a bit of inferiority complex, not this- this monster that acts so docile with the Dark Lord yet ferocious and merciless; insane, mad. She jerked when a scream and loud swearing erupted from where not Harry is.
They were muggles! Innocent, clueless muggles. They never should have even been here, or take sight of magic at all. But deep down, a voice told her that muggles aren't exactly innocent, and that these muggles are in the know; they were the blood relatives of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. They were not at all clueless.
She watched in horror as not Harry brutally ripped the horse woman's hair, her scalp tearing away from her head. Tonks shivered in fear and revulsion. Her Auror training should have said what she would do in circumstances such as this. But that's just it; they didn't and that made her feel the terror. She is way out of her league. She had been too naïve, too deluded to think that she was strong.
Her stomach clenched at every sound made, remembering the night before added tension and gut wrenching terror.
She ignored everything and curled up like she did when she was a child, scared and young. She shut her eyes, hands covering her ears to try and block every sound but failing. She flinched whenever she heard the wails and howls, she curled up even tighter when she heard the sickening cracks and squelches, rocking back and forth when she heard the gleeful giggles and mocking, her instincts screaming at her not to make a sound. Everything left her mind except for fear.
PleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseIdon'twanttodieIdon'twanttodieIdon'twanttodie—
"—ks! Tonks! Nymphadora!" yelled Kingsley in an effort to make his subordinate come back from her catatonic state. He never dared to touch her knowing the risk. He knew that she would lash out; he had dealt with something similar already—blood, fight, fall, survive, war—and he sorrowfully watched as Tonks, his young subordinate, suffered.
He twitched when an ear piercing scream echoed through the enclosed space. Even he, an Auror, a survivor of the first war, was not able to stomach anything that is happening in this dungeon. He had survived, he had never been witness to such— he almost threw up just thinking, remembering what their captor would and can do.
Their captor. Harry Potter, yet not. He knew it really was Harry Potter. Was. What had happened to have the son of James and Lily end up like this? He flinched and turned away as a sickening squelch was followed by a screeching wail. A shiver broke through his body as it continued. He valiantly wished he could have his wand to put up a silencing ward to keep out the sounds. At least, maybe then, Tonks can calm down.
He was not aware how long it had been. Probably hours, or just half a minute? The screams never seemed to stop. If not, then the pleading and moaning.
"So she can't alter too much."
This startled Kingsley, who was still staring dazedly at Tonks' catatonic state. He turned to where it came from and flinched back from the blood soaked figure of their captor, green and red eyes dilated in euphoria as the rusty smell of blood permeated through the air. Kingsley barely held in his dried heaving as the stench hit him—blood, death, suffering.
"I guess being a Metamorphmagus has its limits," said Potter, tilting his head to the side, blood that made its way to his messy hair dripping down at the movement, "It's not entirely 'changing your appearance at will'…" Potter trailed off, going back to where he was—blood, blood, screaming, pleading—and levitated the two unconscious bodies, hardly recognizable yet alive, and deposited them back to the cell.
"Pity Dudders died in the middle of rewiring his limbs…" muttered Potter, staring mournfully at the mutilated, hardly human, bloody mess on the floor. Kingsley looked away once he took sight of it. Red would never have another meaning than this.
"Now!" Potter clapped, glee painting his face and Kingsley felt like throwing up, "Petrificus Totalus."
Kingsley felt his arms and legs snap together, his whole body stiff as board. He was thankful that he was seated though that thought was quickly buried when Tonks was levitated out. He tried to lash out but the curse held strong and he was forced to watch as his younger subordinate sank deeper into herself in fear. He should be the only one there. He should have tried harder to protect them. He should have fought harder. He should have expected.
Some Auror he turned out to be.
"Don't be lonely, Kings," said Harry, chaining Tonks to where she looked in fear; where Dudley Dursley was chained up earlier, "didn't I say that you would be together? Now remove that sulky air of yours."
Kingsley gave up in figuring out the character of the being—he wasn't sure if he could even call him person nor boy, as with Voldemort; Voldemort is Voldemort, not a man, nor person, worse than a monster, never like them—giggling and childishly doing things in his own way. His eyes landed once more on Tonks who was trying futilely to pull herself away from the blood covered wall and chains in desperation, still lost to her own world, then to the unconscious-bordering-on-dead occupants of the other cell.
Then he was being roughly dragged by hand outside the partial safety of the holding cell.
Kingsley finally let the terror of the situation grip him, hard. It made his mind create various images of what might happen, what will happen, and covered him with its cold inky blackness, making his head pound, and blood to rush madly through his veins.
"Aw," cooed the being, chaining him to the wall opposite Tonks, "don't be scared Kings because if you are, what do you think dear Nymphadora here is feeling?" the being let out a giggle, "I'm pretty sure she's far, far, far worse than you are and besides, it won't hurt," the being sent a toothy grin that made him flinch but was not able to because of the curse, "I'll just make sure you feel all of it."
Kingsley felt his body go slack s the curse was lifted but his fear drained his energy, making him unable to at least stand on his feet. He felt so ashamed that he let his fear grip him like this, he was an Auror, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he was not a coward but… but. He forced his sight unto his subordinate. At least, maybe, he could face this with as much dignity he could muster.
His resolve faltered once he saw Tonks. Her normally bright colored and spiky hair was now dull and greasy, not unlike Snape's, her dark eyes blown wide in fear, skin like parchment, her lips forming a litany of words—please, please, mama, help me, I don't want to die—as she struggled with the chains and trying to curl up in herself.
A giggle next to him made him flinch, "Nice view isn't it? At first I was torn on who I should start with but she answered it for me."
A part of Kingsley wanted it to be Tonks first so she would not suffer longer but then, a traitorous part of him, the cowardly part of him, whispered and wished that he be the first one—he can't handle watching someone he had grown close to, despite it being something an Auror shouldn't, to suffer.
"W-who…" he found himself asking shakily.
His response was a bright grin and the being walked over to Tonks and yanked her hair. Tonks screamed and the being winced before tying a gag over her mouth, muffling her continuous screams and making her choke on her spit but that did not deter her as she continued on screaming.
Then the being cut a lock of hair from Tonks, he let it fall to the floor and watched in fascination as it grew back almost immediately. The being cocked his head to the side and grabbed a lock of hair from his own and cut it. It grew back as well but slower than Tonks'.
"Hn," The being, stared curiously at the grown back hair, "I can't change my appearance but I can do that? Must have come from the Blacks somewhere in the family tree… Well, would you look at that! I inherited some of the abilities of a Metamorphmagus; I had thought that it was just a Wizard thing but Tommy said no so… cool!"
The being banished the hair and went back to look at Tonks, attention focused solely on the woman. Kingsley forced himself to look on, silently vowing that he would at least give his subordinate the attention. He didn't even consider being able to escape.
"Harry," said a cold voice he was almost too familiar with.
Kingsley was used to the voice laughing maniacally, giving high pitched cackles and orders, spells to kill especially the Unforgivables. Not this normal, almost caring, tone.
Harry turned and smiled brightly as Lord Voldemort entered, a hairless eyebrow raised, nearly lipless mouth curved into an almost fond smile.
"Voldemort!" exclaimed Harry—the being—delightedly, seemingly happy to see Voldemort, the heartless bastard and mass murderer, "Did you know that I had inherited some of the abilities of a Metamorphmagi? Apparently my ability to grow back my hair in a few minutes is one."
"Is that so?" the serpentine figure of the Dark Lord walked further in, glance stopping slightly to him but then dismissed him, "You did leave the Dursleys alive, did you?"
Harry shifted, "Um," he bit his lip and peered up through his lashes, "I might have—you know, just a bit, might have, just one thing there, that teeny tiny bit part that I might have—"
"What?" cut off the Dark Lord in impatience.
"I killed Dudley."
The Dark Lord remained silent before letting out a snicker—a humane reaction—as the being continued to shift and play with the hem of his blood-soaked oversized shirt—a human gesture. The being looked up to glare at the serpentine figure.
"You look like your Animagus form," not snickered Voldemort, "That beach ball could die for all I care."
"They're there." grumbled the being, pointing towards the cell holding the mangled—but alive—bodies of the man and woman. Muggles, his mind supplied through the haze.
Voldemort made his way there still snickering—why won't he stop? He can't do such a humane sound—and the being pouting—no, they can't.
Kingsley didn't know why, or how, is it that the two can interact like normal people when they aren't. It was jeopardizing the belief that they are not people. They weren't supposed to be like that. They weren't normal. The being might have- no. Even the being cannot be normal even if he was Harry Potter.
"Y'know, Kings," started the being, grabbing a relatively small knife that was littered on a table beside him that Kingsley did not notice earlier, "Voldy is so mean to me. But then, he was the only one aside from Tommy and Nagi to care for me, not the Boy-Who-Lived who was his enemy, nor his Horcrux. You see, he can differentiate me from Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter. So if you are asking why, you now have your answer."
Kingsley merely continued to stare to Tonks. Her struggles were getting weaker and tears were streaming down her cheeks, eyes red rimmed and wide.
Then the being stabbed her arm.
Kingsley watched, horrified, as the struggling Tonks made the knife slice through more than the part where it was stabbed. Blood poured out the wounds and only when Kingsley reacted did the being remove the stabbed knife.
"S-Stop it, please, please…"
The being let out a crazed laugh, red and green eyes alight, "Why?"
"Just- kill her, please. Don't let her suffer…"
The being giggled and brought the knife to his mouth and licked the blood off it before stabbing it to the other arm. This time Tonks repeatedly tried to pull away only to lose balance, plunging the knife deeper and not in the same place.
"Oops," cooed the being, pulling the blade away and flicking the knife, splattering some blood on Kingsley, "Wouldn't want to kill her yet."
The being whispered something and the gashes healed enough to stop the rapid flow of blood.
Shame and self-blame creeped up and Kingsley shut his mouth. Though still in fear's tight grip, he forced himself to look as calm as possible. He was stronger than that but even he knew that there would be no escape in their fates. It was inevitable.
He steeled himself and watched.
The being looked at the blade he was holding and threw it away, the knife vanishing half-way. Then, he retrieved a scalpel from his baggy trousers and with swift precision that a fifteen year old should not have, made an incision that traced just where Tonks' hair started.
"There!" cheered the being, cleaning the scalpel on his oversized shirt, not at all caring that his shirt was already full of blood stains, and then pocketing it, "Now, can you answer this? What happens if we remove the scalp itself and not just the hair? Would it still grow back or not? You don't know? Oh, well, we could just find out."
Kingsley was shaking his head but stilled when a faint wet sound of skin being ripped off started. Tonks had her eyes closed, muffled screams and pleads making her choke on her saliva. The being held her hair firmly and was slowly peeling off the skin from where the incision he made earlier.
Once the scalp was completely removed, Tonks' skull was in clear view with blood marring its surface. The being placed the removed appendage on a head mannequin looking like a parody of a wig, rivulets of blood dribbling down the clear white face of the mannequin.
"I've got a use for this one!" exclaimed the being, turning to him and pointing childishly at the removed appendage, ignoring the sobbing and whimpering Tonks, "You, Kings, will need this! I did say that we do both of you at the same time, sooooo…"
The being picked up the bloodied hair, banishing the mannequin as he did so, and bounced over to Kingsley. The being proceeded to plop it on him.
Kingsley shivered when he felt the wet thing land on his head. He could never muster anger in this situation no matter how he tried so he opted to not move at all. Then he felt the poke of a needle. Not a normal, small needle, no. It was a needle that most used for weaving.
He felt the needle pierce through the delicate skin on his head, followed by what felt like a thread. The being was sewing Tonks' hair and scalp on him.
He could handle the pain—he had received far worse—but he can feel the revulsion of knowing just what was being sewn on him and to whom it belonged to. Kingsley leaned away as far as he could from the being without jostling the needle piercing through his skin. He knew that the being was done with his task when the needle passed through the same place a few more times before being cut.
"Hn," hummed the being as he examined Kingsley, hand on his chin in thought, "The color contrasts horribly and the skin tone is all wrong—who cares?"
The being giggled and conjured a mirror, holding it so that Kingsley could see what he had done.
The dull and greasy hair that previously belonged to Tonks was sewn on top of his bald head, rivulets of blood running down his face. You could clearly see that the hair was not a wig because of the excess skin around it being lightly tanned and not black like his. The thread was also white, crisscrossed along the skin.
This was Tonks', an innocent woman who just happened to be with him. She was never meant to be here no matter what the being said. For the first time, anger bubbled up to him and anger always lead to stupidity.
"Fuck you, Potter."
The being froze, smile staying in place yet eyes closed.
Kingsley suddenly felt fingers clawing at his left eye and pain explode from where his eye was yanked out forcibly, pulling a scream from him. His hand automatically tried to stop the blood from flowing but was stopped by the chains holding him.
The being crushed the eyeball in his hand and picked up a club.
"Don't. Ever. Fucking. Call. Me. Potter."
Each word was punctuated by blows on his body and Kingsley felt pain erupt from the strong blows, coughing harshly as his sternum was hit.
"You know what?" snarled the angry being, eyes blazing with anger yet his smile was not gone, "I don't like you anymore than dust beneath my feet."
With that, the being threw the scalpel over to Tonks in Kingsley's complete view. The scalpel imbedded itself perfectly through her chest, deep enough that it reached her heart. The scalpel was quickly summoned back to its owner and blood sluggishly poured out of the wound.
Kingsley watched, unable to avert his gaze, as life—and sanity—slowly drained away from his subordinate's fearful and pain filled eyes. His sight slowly getting blurry as the pain around his body flared. He could feel blood pouring out from where his gauged eye was supposed to be and he coughed.
Was that blood? He didn't care.
Tonks was dead.
Finally?
He didn't know anymore. He just wanted to follow her. He could feel his strength leave him and wished fervently for death.
"Oh no you don't." snarled a muffled voice that Kingsley barely heard over the pain, "Crucio."
An ear piercing scream tore out from him as his nerves were set alight, hands moving desperately to try relieving his body from the pain. It hurt. His body contorted painfully in his kneeling position.
Vaguely, he felt a hand grabbing his remaining eye but the pain of the curse was far worse yet the pain still added to it. His screams turned inhuman as the curse was not lifted yet his arm was ripped away roughly from him.
His brain would explode. Die. He wanted to die. It hurts. Stop. Stop. He wanted it to stop.
Then it suddenly stopped.
"Really? You want me to stop?" mocked a voice.
Kingsley barely had any sense anymore, consciousness teetering dangerously over insanity. Then his world erupted in pain once more.
"Too bad."
He didn't know how much time passed. It may have only been a second but it felt far, far longer than it should have been before he finally broke.
Harry giggled as he broke the curse, openly laughing as the man fell on the floor, ripped arm unable to hold him in a semblance of uprightness. The man was letting out mangled moans and shouts at odd intervals, mind obviously broken beyond repair. Even by magic.
"You broke him."
Harry jumped as he felt cold arms snake around his waist, not at all caring about the blood covering the teen. He turned around to scowl at the Dark Lord, too used to the serpentine man's habit of sneaking on people (the Death Eaters were terrified when he does that).
"As if you were better," Harry gestured wildly to where the bumbling mess the remaining Dursleys were reduced to. "Even with the silencing charm, I could hear them."
Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Says the one who didn't bother to put up silencing charms."
Harry opened his mouth to rebuke the man but closed it as piercing pain suddenly shot through his body, making him grip the closest thing he could, meaning, Voldemort's wrist. He clenched his jaw, all too used to pain yet can't stop a reaction from him.
As fast as it started, it was gone, leaving Harry limp in Voldemort's hold.
"Bloody hell," Harry groaned. "What was that about?"
He shook his head to dispel the haze from his mind. He startled, though, when he felt something tickling his neck. He reached where he felt it and blinked when his hand encountered hair. That was weird, he could have sworn his hair was shorter than this…
"You do realize that your hair is growing longer?"
"Right," Harry blinked, remembering that growing back in place aside, his hair never grew longer no matter how long of a time he didn't cut it. "How is this happening?"
"You said you inherited some of the abilities of a Metamorphmagi…"
"Well, no," Harry tapped his cheek, disregarding the fact that his hair now reached past his shoulder. "I mean, yes I did. But my hair never grew longer no matter what I do. It just grew back in place… maybe… Ah!" Harry snapped his fingers with a sheepish grin. "It might have been because I consumed some of Tonks' blood…?"
Voldemort raised a hairless eyebrow. "That could be, but why, and how, in Merlin's name did you consume her blood? Last time I checked you were not a Vampire."
"That doesn't matter! Kingsley looked hilarious when I licked the blood off the knife, you can't blame me! And it doesn't even make sense that my hair would grow longer!"
"Of course it doesn't, magic isn't the most explanatory thing out there; it's still rather unpredictable. However," Voldemort continued, cutting Harry off from what he was going to say, "It might have been because you already have the same ability in your blood, but at a lower scale. The blood you had consumed simply enhanced this."
Harry tugged at his wild hair. "So that means I could control it?"
"That depends."
Harry cut it back to its previous length rather viciously, only for it to grow back to its long length. He tried again to only have the same result. His scowl became more pronounced as he tried again, getting the same result. Again, he tried, only to fail.
Harry groused as he tried again. "It became more unmanageable! Why did it have to grow longer?!"
They were already surrounded by so much hair that Filch would probably quit his job if he were to clean the mess. Harry only stopped when his frustration changed to resignation. Really, the shorter length was more manageable than this—this mane! It was a tangled mess for Merlin's sake!
Tommy! Help me!
Harry! Stop whining!
Harry huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning on Voldemort as the man didn't let go of him through his slight tantrum. He pouted when he realized the man was snickering then Harry grinned. He summoned Nymphadora's hair from where it was sewn on Kings' head.
The summoned appendage rushed to him, ripping itself from Kingsley Shacklebolt's head, and smacked on his slightly outstretched hand. He faced Voldemort with a smirk and with swift movements, plopped it on the serpentine man's bald head. Though he did have to jump just to reach him, Voldemort was tall.
This stopped Voldemort and the man quickly grabbed the wet object on his head with a grimace.
"Hair…?" Voldemort stared at what seemed like a wig but there was crusting blood and human skin.
Harry was giggling uncontrollably both on the face Voldemort made as the man stared at the hair, and Kingsley who finally gave in to death. Maybe he shouldn't have made the black man lose too much blood? Nah, he could hardly care anymore. One name checked off his list.
Voldemort threw the appendage in distaste. "What was that? Severus' hair?"
Harry cackled. "No!-Hah!- it wasn't-" He broke down in laughter, eyes watering with mirth. Instead of continuing talking, Harry pointed towards Tonks, laughter growing as Voldemort saw where it came from.
Voldemort waited for Harry to calm down before flicking the teen's forehead. "That was a disgusting feeling, brat."
Harry stuck his tongue out, still letting out giggle at random intervals.
"Voldemort," said Harry, poking repeatedly at the man's chest to annoy him, "since you are an all-powerful, knowledgeable, cruel, megalomaniac of a Dark Lord… you don't happen to know anything I could do that would get rid of this annoying length of my hair… do you?"
"I could have done without the 'megalomaniac' part."
"Well, it's the truth."
"Do you want my help or not?"
Harry puffed out his cheeks before nodding.
Voldemort stared at the teen before letting out a sigh. Harry looked like an overgrown chipmunk… or like that Tarzan something or the other the muggles were talking about, except with longer hair and smaller stature. He waved his hand and watched as his magic arranged the teen's hair into a tight plait.
"That should hold it. Happy?"
Harry touched his hair and blinked. "How do you know something like that?"
"You do tend to know something like this if you hung out with the girls in Slytherin; they are obsessed with anything that pertains to their looks."
"Like the Malfoys?"
Voldemort nodded empathically. "Like the Malfoys."
Harry scowled when he felt some of the strands poke him when his hair was jostled a bit, "I officially hate having long hair."
"At least you have hair."
Harry smiled brightly up at the man, banishing the hair surrounding them, "Of course my Lord."
Voldemort sighed. The teen was more trouble than… well, Harry did have his worth. That was according to his largely biased point of view, he thought, looking down on blood covered teen in his arms. Yes, Harry was trouble, but in the end, was worth it.
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
I finally finished the chapter! That was… more than 9000 words! Aren't you all lucky? Nope. Thought so.
As you can see, they canonically care for Harry. Or as canon as I can possibly make them. Dumbles ain't more manipulative than canon, and they are OoC, but they do care. There ain't no bashing happening here, people! (Because bashing the Dursleys isn't enough)
And yes, there's such a thing as Tarzan in 1995, checked it. It's called "Tarzan X — Shame of Jane" Although I have no idea what goes on in that… the first photo I saw though… *shudders* boobs. No one needs to see those boobs (Hey! I'm a girl).