A/N: So, what do I bet you that NO ONE expected this update? Well, this one is to blame on my beta.
Okay, so, this chapter is exceedingly dark. You should note that the story is rated M, and it includes suicide attempts, lemons and other unwordly things… like in this chapter. I feel as though I should warn you that this chapter is not only violent but incredibly gory, and I will probably get flames for this. But I've been planning this since day one, so deal with it, sorry for the crudeness.
As we were, Shadowz has convinced me to update more frequently. The hard part is now over.
Chapter 5: Calling all the Monsters
Daphne was having a ball. She was quite a fashionista, and she had no idea that muggles could fit that many colours onto a piece of fabric. The fact that she was having fun was almost ironic, because it was her mother's birthday and Daphne hardly had fun at her mother's over-the-top birthday soirees. She vaguely wondered if they would have one this year.
She went from rack to rack, her hands flipping through dresses and blouses before she moved to the men's department and repeated the process. Harry followed her meekly, but was incredibly amused.
Harry finally gave up and got a trolley, causing the blonde to go even madder with her shopping. She was really glad that Harry had had the idea to get some money transferred into muggle money; otherwise they'd be in a pickle.
She then bundled him into the fitting rooms, forcing him to model everything for her. She heard him sigh loudly, but knew he secretly loved it. If what he said was anything to go by, this was his first time choosing his own clothes. He seemed to prefer the colours blue and red, which wasn't a bad thing as they looked rather well on him.
They stopped in the line for the counter, and Harry drew her attention.
"Don't you think we should've brought Dudley?" He asked, and Daphne started. Why on earth would they have brought him? She was sure the taller boy would enjoy it, and that it would be very nice bonding time for the boys but... she didn't want him to go with them, it was as simple as that. She had grown fond of her host, even thinking of him as her friend, and would prefer to spend time with just him.
She had received a letter from Blaise, asking where she had gone and if she was all right. She'd immediately wallowed in guilt as she'd forgotten to tell her best friend that she was quite alright. She'd hastily written a return letter assuring him that she was fine and safe, but would tell him everything when they saw one another again.
"Why do you ask?" She asked Harry, deciding it was the most tactful way to word the question, and the most polite of the many that plagued her thoughts.
"Aunt Petunia's been buying him his clothes ever since I can remember, and if what he's wearing is anything to go by, she still is." Harry shrugged, and Daphne hid a smile from him. He was a big softie, but that was a Gryffindor for you.
"Honestly? I think he's old enough to stand up to her. You did it, didn't you? What's stopping him from doing the same?" Daphne said matter-of-factly. Harry nodded, his hands slipping to the side of the trolley as he leaned closer.
"The difference is that they like him. I have more than enough reason to be a rebel, but he doesn't." Harry responded. Daphne inclined her head.
"They babied him too much," she decided, "it's rather annoying, but if he wants to succeed in life, he has to learn to stand up for himself. And, I might add, he has been doing just that." She finished, thinking of how Dudley had chosen Harry's side a few days earlier over his father's ranting. Daphne liked Mrs Dursley more than Mr Dursley, but mostly because Mrs Dursley had become incredibly kind to them in the last few days. Of course Daphne knew this was just to avoid their wands, but it was an improvement.
"He has." Harry agreed softly, and she looked at him. His expression had fallen, but when he saw she was looking at him, he flashed a smile.
Sadly, she thought, his smile wasn't real.
The pair paid for their purchase and left the store, loaded heavily. They ducked into an alley and shrunk the bags before going on. Daphne was thankful for shrinking spells; she was a shopper and too lazy to carry large things around. She would rather die of laziness than of exhaustion. That was such a typical pureblood vice, she snorted to herself.
She dragged him to a shop for formal wear, or that's what the window puppets told her, and she thought that the suits she saw in the window would look good on him. Harry had meanwhile given up on his farce of her absolutely torturing him to death via shopping and had started to enjoy himself.
The store was relatively empty, she noted, as a woman made her way to them.
"Can I help you?" She asked in what Daphne thought was an unnecessary haughty voice.
"Good morning to you too," Daphne said in a voice deceivingly sweet, "We would like to buy one of your fine garbs for this young man."
"We only sell the best, miss." The woman said, and Daphne rolled her eyes.
"I assumed, ma'am, which is why I chose this store." Daphne smiled, though at that moment she wished she had fangs to bar at this woman. If there was one thing Daphne absolutely loathed it was someone underestimating her.
"We don't need help, we can find our own way, thank you." Harry replied, gripping Daphne's arm and pulling her away.
"This isn't the wizarding world, Daphne, your blood status makes no difference here." Harry muttered.
"She doesn't need to be such a bitch, Harry. Good manners never hurt anyone." She responded quickly, looking at the first suit situated on a mannequin.
"No offense to your house, but you guys come across as a bunch of total bastards." Harry said, joining her as she moved on to the next one, this one on a hanger.
"We have to be, Harry. The other three houses are certain that Slytherin house are all a bunch of evil morons. We are possibly the most bullied house, but no teacher, besides Snape, would take a stand for us." She said, lifting the third suit from its hook. She thrust it to her companion and motioned for him to try it on.
He returned quickly, where Daphne was armed with a tie. She was glad that ties were something the wizarding world believed in too.
"What is that?" Harry asked, pointing to the tie. Daphne looked up from the tie and blushed.
Harry looked extremely good in that suit. He looked older, his green eyes stood out and his body looked incredible. She hadn't realised his shoulders were that broad.
Daphne supressed her blush and took a step towards him.
"It is a tie, Mr Potter, I am sure you know what it is used for?" She lifted an eyebrow playfully.
"It is? My, I never knew." Harry said pompously. He grinned at her and winked, and she couldn't help but laugh. She took another step closer and drew the tie around his neck, just under his collar.
She started to fix his tie, when she became aware of his eyes on her. She looked up into shining green eyes. She had always known that the boy-who-lived had beautiful eyes (or so she heard), but she never saw quite how beautiful. The green reminded her of the gardens at her old home, the grass always green and lush with just a sprinkling of water. She decided that she liked his eyes.
She became aware of how close they were standing to one another, closer than when she started with his tie, and how close his mouth was to hers, how close his body was to hers, how his breath smelled like a cup of strong coffee... how she was leaning closer to him...
"Are you finding anything?" A haughty voice cut through the air. The pair jumped apart, causing Daphne to pull the tie, and Harry was sent spiralling.
"We'll take it." She said, a blush forming on her cheeks. She wasn't used to blushing, not even Theo had made her feel this way. She shook her head and sent Harry to get undressed.
A late lunch was to be served at a small cafe, and Daphne noticed her new friend grimace. She looked around, as if to see someone they knew from school or a piece of tasteless decorations, but saw nothing.
"What is it?" She asked when they sat down.
"The last time I went to a cafe with a girl did not end well." He said with the scowl firmly in place.
"Why? What happened?" She asked. Blast the tact, now she was curious. Harry swept a hand through his hair and laughed nervously.
"I took Cho Chang to Madame Puddifoots and -"
"That place is awful. My apologies, do continue." Daphne had cut across him, and he glared at her.
"Well, she kept asking me questions about Cedric. She asked if he said anything about her before he died-" But Daphne was intent on not letting Harry finish that sentence without displaying her distaste in Cho Chang.
"Sure, a boy in a tournament, his sole focus is winning and surviving, and he would mention his girlfriend just before he dies. That makes sense, doesn't it?" She spat sarcastically. Daphne didn't like Chang, and she made no secret. The rivalry between the two girls had become legendary in their years.
Daphne and Chang was always head to head when it came to academics – and when one did better than the other, they would make sure to rub it in the other's face. Daphne was determined to send the bitch packing in their NEWTs.
"And she ended up crying," Harry went on, "my first kiss with her was wet too."
"You had your first kiss with Cho Chang?" Daphne asked, a strange stab echoing in her mind. She was surprised at the stab. What was that about?
"Yes, and it wasn't that bad, I guess." He shrugged.
"I have no normal response for that." Daphne said, and Harry laughed. He didn't know what else to do but laugh. They sipped their coffee in silence.
"It's my mother's birthday today." She said suddenly, desperate to change the topic, "I wish I could somehow pay her back for being such a horrible mother. She's under my father's thumb, and he's a complete arsehole."
"Don't worry about that," Harry said, getting up and tossing a few money notes on the table, "I have a better idea."
She narrowed her eyes but followed him anyways; this could be rather interesting. She, for some inexplicable reason, trusted his meaning of having a better idea. He did know the muggle world better after all, and while she had spent time at the Davis', her father never allowed her to sleep over or accompany them on trips into the muggle world. The bastard had only allowed her the muggle jeans because he liked how they fit her.
She shivered, hopefully his unwanted touches in unwanted places was now a thing of the past. Gods, pureblood society was sevens sorts of fucked up if fathers could do that to their daughters. She hated her father, and even that was a euphemism; she hated every part of him, every word he'd ever said and everything he'd ever given her. She had burned her pairs of jeans, simply because they reminded her of him.
One good thing though, her father had never molested her sister, and she hoped that Astoria would hex the man into oblivion if he ever tried anything. She was glad that he'd never gone over into having sex with her, because that would have made her kill herself. She hated him. She abhorred him. She wished she could inflict the pain on him that she would now suffer for the rest of her life. She wanted him to pay, and she would make sure he'd pay, no matter how long it took, or what she had to do.
She allowed Harry to lead her to a building a few streets away, coming to stop in front of a large building. She saw words on the board above them, and frowned, what was this? All thoughts of her father disappeared from her mind.
"Miss Greengrass, this is a movie theatre. This is like a wizarding photograph, but with sound and effects too." He tried to explain, but she stared blankly at him.
"What?"
"They are moving and talking pictures, if I can sum it up for you." He said, his eyes glancing at the words. He lifted a hand and pointed to them. "Those are the films currently available to watch. Romeo and Juliet, Matilda, Mars Attacks!, Independence Day… That's it."
"Please, not Romeo and Juliet," Daphne said, "I am not in the mood for an angsty little girl killing herself because her daddy is being a moron." That sounded a bit familiar too.
"How do you know that play?" Harry asked, an expression of shock covering his face.
"My father wanted my sister and I to be in touch with the finer sides of life, also known as poetry and literature. So we read that." She shrugged. She hadn't liked the play, but she had to admit that the poet had talent.
"All right," he agreed, and she noted that he seemed relieved. He stepped into a spacious room with a ticket booth, where there were posters. They weren't moving, but they did look somewhat interesting.
"Harry, what's that?" She pointed to one of the posters. On it stood Mars Attacks! in bright colouring with several green-headed human-type beings with firearms.
"Aliens." Harry answered, and Daphne felt a blank expression slip onto her face again. She wasn't used to this.
"Excuse me?"
"Aliens – they are beings from outer space. Like the green things. They normally declare war on earth and humans, and all but a handful die. At least, that's what I gather, I've never really seen a movie about aliens before, but Dudley used to love them as a boy."
"Okay, let's see that one." She said, pointing to the Mars Attacks! poster. Harry shook his head and pointed to a poster reading Independence Day. "I don't like that poster, and this one is about aliens too."
She laughed and agreed, deciding not to lecture him on judging a book by its cover... or a movie by its poster, as it were.
They were inside the theatre soon, and Daphne kept looking around. There was a huge wall in front of them, and she wanted to know where the moving pictures would be showing. Harry just shrugged, told her to be quiet and stole some of her popcorn.
Daphne was busy beating him for stealing her popcorn when music sounded around them, and she jumped so high that she nearly landed on top of Harry, her popcorn flying everywhere. She slapped him repeatedly until the huge wall started playing the moving pictures, and her mouth hung open as words slid onto the screen. Harry leaned over and told her it was the logo, and she nodded. The first thing they show in a movie is the logo, she should remember that.
The pictures began to speak, to move, and people came onto the huge wall. Harry would later tell her that it was called a screen. She saw the machines in the sky, the strange beings – aliens – attacking humans and misfit humans attacking the machines (Harry also told her later that it was called a space ship).
Almost two hours later and Daphne was giddy. She had loved every minute of it, she wanted to see another one, but Harry had to burst her bubble; it was time to go home. She pouted petulantly until Harry suggested a walk around London.
"Hey, Daphne?" He asked after a while of the pair of them walking in silence, the silence only broken by her munching on leftover popcorn.
"Hmm?" Daphne looked up at him, just having popped more snacks into her mouth.
"Would you teach me how to apparate?" He asked, and she frowned. Of course she would, she had a licence for it, and seeing as how Harry had had his Trace removed illegally, she knew he wasn't worried about being caught.
"Of course, but not right now, I just want to enjoy this moment." She smiled at him. She was glad that she didn't have to smile up at him; they were the same height after all. Harry laughed at her and stole some of her popcorn again.
"I had fun today," She said. "You are not what I expected, Mr Potter."
"Nor are you, but I guess you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. I judge the entire Slytherin on Draco and Snape, which is stupid, seeing as you and Tracey are great." He smiled faintly.
"Yes, we are." She said with a smug grin " Why do you judge us all to be the same?" She asked.
"I was incredibly ignorant," He admitted, "And I still am. I stepped into the wizarding world, knowing next to nothing about this world. I didn't even know where the platform is – Ron's family had shown me. I didn't know what the sorting was and nearly had a heart attack when a ghost started to talk to me. Ron thinks that all Slytherins are bad, it was one of the first things he'd ever told me, and I guess it's because they're supposed bloodtraitors."
"Well, I'm one too now." Daphne piped up, and Harry slung an arm around her shoulders.
"I would like to meet more Slytherins," Harry decided, "I've met Davis, and from what you said the Zabinis are nice too. Who else?" he asked.
Daphne bit her lip in thought, "The Bishops, but you've already met them. I think the Cain family would listen too, but they're a tad conservative. Then there's the Paljas family – they're incredibly odd in their ways, even more than Tracey's family is, but the kids are always nice and they've made friends with some Hufflepu-"
"Crucio!" A stream of blinding light shot past them, and the couple sprang apart. Daphne spun around, wand in hand. She'd recognised that voice. She would recognise that anywhere. Daphne tossed the popcorn container aside and slashed her wand through the air, sending an electrifying light toward their attacker. Her curse was met with a shield, and she dove out of the way of another torture curse.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry roared, and a torrent of ruby red light was torn from his wand. Greengrass senior just cast it away with a shield, and Harry struck the air again as Daphne got to her feet. Daphne had dropped her wand when she dived and was searching like a woman possessed, she couldn't go back with him! She just couldn't!
She was aware of Harry moving in front of her as she searched, covering her, when a blue jinx shot Harry in the chest and he toppled over. She stepped on something, her wand, snapping it up and sending jinx on jinx at her father. He sidestepped all of them like a nimble cat. He sent his curses her way too, and she kept her eyes wide open for a green jet of light headed her way, but it didn't seem as though he wanted to kill her. Probably because he wanted to feel her up one last time.
She saw Harry in the corner of her eye moving forward and lurched forward, standing in between them. As she had said, she would do anything to save Harry, even if it meant facing her own personal tormentor. She also knew Harry wouldn't fire a curse, because there was the possibility that it might hit her.
Her father's normally handsome face was contorted into a scowl, and she swore she could see hatred in his eyes as he sent a non-verbal curse her way.
She backed up quickly, pushing Harry out of the way as she did, and flicked her wand and sent a Conjunctivitus Curse his way, hoping to blind him, however temporarily. He shielded himself again, before moving his wand in a complicated slash. She quickly moved her wand through the night air, she didn't want to be hit with a blasting hex.
"Etnalrio!" She screamed, an orange jet shooting from her wand. Seeing the spell her father's face blanched, instantly recognising the spell. She jumped forward and said the curse again and again, hoping to expel his entrails all over the floor. She was so angry, her blood pumping through her veins. She wanted to choke him on his own guts, make him feel as helpless as she had been, and see the fear in his eyes as he choked to death on his own intestines.
He sneered at her, and Harry tried to move past her quickly, but she stopped him whilst whipping her wand sharply, "Roganda!" She screamed, pushing Harry down and causing him to fall to the floor. It hit her father this time, causing his eye to pop out of its socket. She grinned, a demented leer in her eyes – his eye-socket started to bleed and she wanted him to drown, drown in a pool of his own blood.
She flicked her wand harshly in six ways, drawing a star in the air, sending it colliding with a spell he recognised as something that would make her own hair strangle her by climbing down her throat. She repeated her move and a bright yellow line flew from her wand, and she whipped it across his torso and neck, where deep gashes formed. The older man screamed in agony, blood spilling from his wounds. It was all of her pain, all of her pain that he had inflicted upon her spilling from his body. Only it wasn't enough. It would never be enough!
He retaliated, waving his wand towards the canal nearby, the water lifting over his head and straight to Daphne, who cast a shield around herself and Harry, but the water was too quick for her, and the water was scalding hot. It burned her face and arms and it drowned out her screams. The hot water was forced down her throat, burning her from the inside out. This was him suppressing her wishes, as he always had, as he always told her what to do, as he always dominated her life...her thoughts...her deeds.
Then it was gone, and she fell to her knees. Her wand was still held tightly in her hand, and her hand itched to finish him off.
"Pathetic little girl." He said, and his voice was so close that it sent shivers down her spine. He was so close that he simply kicked her body so that she fell over, lying on her side in a pool of her own sweat.
She was exhausted, her body was sore and tired and she wished she could go to sleep. She wanted to close her eyes and give up, because she wasn't sure if the torture she was enduring was worth it.
But she wouldn't give up, because she didn't want to become a slut, not for her father – not for any man! She would rather have her toes cut off.
She forced herself to her feet as her father watched her response. He would take her back: his filthy hands would roam all over her young body, his hands would invade her mind and she would become a shell of who she was now… No…. No never again. NEVER!
He was still watching her. She grabbed Harry's hand, wondering where he'd been with the hot water debacle, and saw he had burns, that he was coughing up water, his chest heaving heavily as his lungs screamed for air. He'd been experiencing the same torture as she had. He looked at her and nodded.
"You will never outrun me," Her father said, "I will always find you. You will always be mine."
She turned on the spot, terrified, too late feeling the hand clasping down on her wrist.
Harry had been unprepared for the sudden disappearance and appearance in Privet Drive, but he was even more unprepared for their companion. Daphne screamed, and Harry reacted instinctively.
"Relashio!" He yelled, and Mr Greengrass was sent backwards. Harry quickly followed up with a disarming spell, but he aimed it at the man's chest, causing him to fly backwards. Harry held onto Daphne's wand arm, so she couldn't move away from him. He quickly swiped his wand over Daphne and muttered a spell Hermione had taught him to get rid of boils and burns before turning back.
Daphne pushed him to the ground as soon as she was ready and brandished her wand in the air, a red cross sent to her father, who had just gotten to his feet. He was sent spiralling backwards again, a loud grunt filling the air.
Daphne lunged forward again, her wand being brandished and whipped and swished in the air, and she kept pushing Harry away. Her father got to his feet, having healed the slashes she had left on his body. Just his eyeball was hanging out at the moment.
"Let me help, Daphne!" He yelled.
"This is my fight!" She called back. Harry rolled his eyes as she sent another curse her father's way and he performed the healing spell on himself. He was delighted that the boils and sensitive skin was gone and made a mental note to send Hermione some flowers.
"Well, sorry to screw this up for you, but no way you're doing this alone!" He yelled. His scream called her father's attention. The older man shifted his attention to Harry, and cast curses at Harry, which Harry all perfectly deflected with furious swipes of his wand.
Mr Greengrass then slapped his hands together over his wand, sending out a shockwave that made the entire neighbourhood pulse. Harry was thrown backwards, making sure to keep his wand firmly in his hand. He landed on his stomach, his leg splayed awkwardly, facing Daphne. Her father yelled an unfamiliar incantation, or so it sounded to Harry's ears, but it had the desired effect. Harry recognised it as the same boiling torture from before, but this time only Daphne was affected.
Harry's entire body was numb. He could see, but that was it, he couldn't even move his eyes or eyelids. He had no idea what he'd been hit with, but now he knew that the Greengrass family knew a lot of dark spells... and he wanted to know some of it, or the majority of it.
He knew Daphne would've screamed if she had the chance, but she was having hot water thrust down her throat, the sound of rushing water drowning out her gagging sounds. She felt to her knees as the water stopped, her wand clattering to her side rather loudly to Harry's ears.
Mr Greengrass walked up to her, his hand harshly tipping her over. Her hurt body was sent toppling, a wet slap echoing through the empty street. He placed a heavy foot on her chest. Harry's mind screamed for him to get up, that he was stronger than this and that he had to save her from her father.
"Such a vile little girl," He said, bending down beside her and he put his large hand on her forehead. His expression was tender and almost soft the way he looked at her, and his finger slid down her cheek.
"Fuck you." Daphne breathed, her chest heaving, the wet shirt clinging to her form. Harry saw her father licking his lips like she was a delicious meal. Harry tried to push his hands into action, but couldn't even move a finger. Her father slid his one hand down to her stomach, kneading the flesh through her wet shirt.
Mr Greengrass slapped her across the face, "You will not talk to your father that way!" Daphne spat in his face in response – only causing his mouth to turn into an ugly scowl again.
Harry's arms suddenly had pins and needles. His right leg was tingling. Lovely tingles that he needed at that moment. Tingles that honestly needed to speed up, because he was going to kill her father!
"I'm going to take you home. Where I will keep you locked in your room…" Mr Greengrass said in a voice as soft as silk, and Harry saw red. Why would he keep Daphne locked in a room? Unless… Unless…
Suddenly it made sense: the way he was touching her, her stomach and lovingly caressing her cheek and why wanted to keep her locked up in a room. Harry wanted to vomit – the man was fucked up in more ways than one.
Daphne cut him off but swinging a hand to meet his face, "You will never touch me again that way, you fucking arsehole. I'd rather kill myself... " she said, trailing off slightly. You could hear a slight tremor in her voice.
Harry's mind screamed in blind rage, he forced his arms into action and tried to push himself up, but failed, his arms were still useless!
"Is that so?" Her father laughed, "What if you have no choice…" He twirled his wand lovingly in his hand, and then pointed it down slowly, "Imperio." He lifted his foot off her chest and got up, looking down at her.
Fight it, Daphne! Harry yelled in his head, as he realised he could move his feet. His legs could move, his arms weren't useless anymore. He forced himself up as Daphne got up and embraced her father, knowing she would hate being that close to the man that had abused her body for years! The bastard was petting her on the head as though she was a loyal dog, a sick expression on his mutilated face.
Harry spurred his body into action, his wand was up instantly.
"Expelliarmus!" He yelled, and the unforgivable curse over Daphne broke. She pushed her father away forcefully, just as his wand sped towards Harry, who caught it with the agility of his seeker abilities.
Harry slashed his wand through the air continuously, happy that Mr Greengrass couldn't fight back. Dark crosses split onto the older man's torso, dark red blood spilling from it onto the floor. Harry yelled a blasting curse, causing the man's bones in one arm to shatter into a thousand pieces, the thousand pieces that he knew was Daphne's heart all these years. He screamed a cutting hex, cutting off the man's left calf and levitated it to his mouth. He finally just let it fall, he couldn't be that cruel.
"Daphne, what's the spell of that boiling water curse?" He asked, looking at his work. Mr Greengrass had fallen to the pavement a few centimetres away from them, his blood only making the tar darker – the muggle authorities would need a lot of buckets to clean that up, wouldn't they?
"Harry – it takes years of training!" Daphne replied. Harry looked on as her father tried to get up using his healthy arm, but fell down as he chose the leg that was missing a calf.
"Daphne…" He said in a warning voice. She paled a bit at his tone and muttered the incantation. Harry copied the movements he'd seen earlier from her father and shouted the incantation at the top of his lungs, knowing it would work, because a man like that didn't deserve to live, didn't deserve to have someone as amazing as Daphne in his life, didn't deserve a family, he didn't even deserve death – it was too good a punishment!
The water erupted from his wand, boiling hot from what he could tell by intricate steam spirals above the water, and enfolded the Greengrass patriarch.
Harry was standing over the soon-to-be corpse. He cast another cutting curse, causing the man's eye to fall out, and conjured up a small flask to put it in. Thank goodness for Daphne and her help over the last few days. Daphne was a good person, kind and honest and helpful and… equally broken. He heard the man whimpering, begging to be released.
Harry's eyes glinted in malice, his mind snapping for a fraction of a second, because this time he needed to mean it, it needed to cause pain beyond anything he had ever experienced, it needed to bring this man to the brink of insanity and then pull him back to his senses so Harry could do again and again and again until the word mercy was screamed with a broken voice…
He knew what he wanted to do. But he knew he couldn't do it – he'd tried and failed beforehand. He looked at Daphne, her body small and pulled into itself, her eyes terrified… this was the girl that saved his life…in more ways than one.
You have to mean it, Potter…
"Crucio." The word fell from Harry's mouth in abhorrence. The man screamed with what was left of him, his beaten up and butchered body convulsing and snapping and creaking and slithering...
Harry had no idea how long the spell was cast, but he guessed it was long enough for Daphne to recuperate somewhat.
Harry turned to his friend, whose eyes were a bit teary, "He's all yours."
Daphne pushed herself to her feet, her wet hair clinging to her battered face and streams of water dripping from her chin. She had scooped up her wand and was twirling it between her fingers, as though it was a piece of ribbon, and snapped it into the palm of her hand.
"You will never hurt me again." She whispered, aiming her wand at his chest. She wanted to put a foot on his chest and step through it, crushing his heart and lungs in one go.
But she was tired. She wanted to finish this...
"Avada Kedavra." A green arrow of light hit his chest, his eyes becoming glassy almost instantly and his heart stopped beating.
Silence fell. There were no screams of agony, no begs for mercy, no rushing water and no cries of pain. Beautiful echoes of silence. The pair simply stared at their handy work, at the empty shell which now only held memories for Daphne and anger for Harry. The eye was tucked into Harry's pocket.
Harry finally came to his sense, "Fuck!" It was one of the first times in his life that profanity had fallen from his lips, and probably wouldn't be the last.
"You can say that again," A familiar voice said behind them. Both teenagers jumped, and Cyrus Bishop pushed past them, "Well, it's a good thing I came along; otherwise you'd be in a heap of trouble."
"Bishop? What…" Harry started, but couldn't find a way to phrase anything.
"I was in muggle London and saw the whole thing. When you disappeared, I figured you would come here and I, the little wanker I am, decided to follow. I didn't joke when I said we'd even hide bodies." The boy grimaced at them, "But I would advise leaving. The Ministry would've seen the spell fire and will come to investigate 'cause this area is filled with muggles. You're just lucky it's dark outside and no one could see you. If anyone asks, the three of us, unlikely as it seems, spent an evening in muggle London, and my father will only be happy to vouch for us."
Harry was stumped and watched as Cyrus Bishop levitated the body and grabbed onto the smashed arm, "I'll get rid of this for you, but you need to leave. Now."
Harry nodded and Daphne let out a shaky breath, "Take him to my mother." Harry frowned at her choice. "And put on a note."
Cyrus nodded, bade them farewell and disapparated. Harry took a hold of her arm and steered her towards number four. What had he just done? He'd killed a man. Of course he hadn't been the one to finish him off, but he'd tortured him. He'd used an Unforgivable Curse – an Unforgivable! He sincerely hoped they wouldn't be able to find him, because he didn't fancy an eternity in Azkaban for killing a man. They could claim that it was self-defence, but upon allowing the investigators into their minds, they would still find that two unforgivable curses had been used.
They stumbled into the house, seeing an incredibly pale Dudley and Petunia waiting for them. They must've seen and heard everything, despite the darkness, since it had all happened just a few metres from where they lived.
"Harry, what -" Dudley started, but Harry certainly was not in the mood to explain what had just happened.
"Not now Dudley. Talk in the morning." He said, swishing his wand at his aunt, whose eyes became a bit dazed before she looked at them again.
"What just happened?" She asked, "Why are you two so wet? And why are you both covered in boils?"
Harry sighed, relieved – it was his first attempt of a memory spell since Daphne had taught it to him, and it seemed to have worked. She wouldn't remember the fight, though he couldn't risk the same with Dudley. His relationship with Dudley was just getting somewhere and he didn't want to ruin it by screwing up a memory charm.
"Just some screw up at the swimming pool, Aunt Petunia, nothing to worry about," Harry said, though he knew he wasn't convincing at all. The latter was evident from the sceptical look his aunt gave him, but he just shrugged, he was leaving anyways. Cyrus' advice seemed good, and Daphne seemed to have become a robotic being. Her expression was blank and her movements were mechanic. She was in shock, and she needed Harry to think and react at that moment.
Harry told Dudley to give Daphne a glass of water while he collected their things, shrinking it and putting it in his pockets. Thank heavens for magic.
"Dudley, I need a favour," he said when he was downstairs again.
"Of course, what is it?" Dudley asked, patting Daphne awkwardly on the back. She was taking sips from the water, her gaze fixed on the corner of Aunt Petunia's microwave.
"The Ministry will come, say that you don't know where I am, and when they try to look into your mind… well, try to avoid that. But no one will suspect that you know anything, because you're a muggle."
"So being non-magic is finally something to be proud of?" Aunt Petunia spat, then she looked away, as though sorry she'd said anything. Harry recalled her response on the dementors the previous summer, and also knew that she knew more than she cared to admit.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia, but you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Harry smirked, "That's a good thing." He turned back to Dudley, "If you see a redhead, ask him his name: if it's Weasley, then tell them where I am. Not anyone else, have you got it? Just a redhead with the surname Weasley. You should also ask them what lied in the chamber… and if the answer isn't basalisk, just laugh as though it were a joke."
Harry realised his plan wasn't fool proof, and that Dumbledore was his biggest threat, but it was the best he could with quick thinking. He pulled Daphne to a stand and whipped his wand at his aunt again, modifying her memory of everything that had happened the evening after they came home covered in boils. He disappeared out the front door with Daphne before she could see them.
"Can I still come by?" Dudley asked, his brows knitted. He was worried for Harry, it would be sweet if Harry had just moments ago killed a man and was now officially running from the law.
"Of course, just send Hedwig when you do." Harry said, just as the owl appeared in the night sky. Dudley nodded, and Harry was suddenly blank – how would they get to Grimmauld Place? The duel had happened only minutes ago and the Ministry would arrive any minute, he couldn't call the Knight Bus, he couldn't trust Dumbledore, whose letter he never wrote a reply to, and walking was not an option, they'd never make it. Harry really wished he could apparate at that moment.
Daphne took a hold on his arm and twisted on the spot with Harry yelling a strangled goodbye to his cousin.
They arrived just in front of Grimmauld Place, and Harry ushered them both inside, before anyone could spot them. He let out a precarious breath, and was aware of the heaving of his chest.
What had he done?
The realisation dawned on him like a large shadow. He'd killed a man. He had knowingly killed a man. It wasn't the first time, if Quirrel counted, but this time… this time he had wanted to kill him. He had the intent – he had tortured a man! He had crushed his bones and cut off his flesh, he had nearly drowned the same man in hot, boiling water! He had wanted the man to pay…
Harry let out a sob. What had he done? This wasn't like him! This wasn't what the saviour of the wizarding world would do… he'd find some noble way to do, to deliver justice, but not like this!
He had used CRUCIO! That was… how angry was he? How… what did that man do? Why… why did he want to lock Daphne up? Daphne wasn't… she wasn't… she wasn't bad. She was good and kind and pretty and she was the one that… that kept him from killing himself...helped him through a rough time… but maybe if he had killed himself they wouldn't be having this problem, but then Daphne would've been locked up… and she would be… she would be a sex slave… what had her father done?
Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He'd figured out what her father had done to her – he had molested her, at the very least, and physically abused her if that slap was anything to go by.
He felt something trickling down his cheek. He lifted his hand to find a tear… he hadn't cried since his godfather died. Was he insane? Had he finally lost his mind? Or was he never sane? Was he going to turn into Bellatrix Lestrange? He… he was scared of himself. He was scared of what he could do. He brought his wand up, stared at it, and threw it across the room. Maybe Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been right. Maybe magic was vile and evil.
Another sob raked through his body and he convulsed violently. His head hit the door behind them with a loud crack, and the world around him started to spin. He put his hand over his ear. He was evil, he was abominable, he was a monster, he should be dead, he should be dead, he should be dead… he wanted to be dead, he didn't deserve to live… he wished that he had succeeded a few days ago.
He forced his body into motion, his hand catching Daphne's wrist, and he pulled her to the living room, the only sound disturbing the eerie silence was his smothered sobs. He was vaguely aware of Mrs Black yelling at them, but she fell silent when she saw them and somehow managed to close the curtains over herself.
He sank into the couch, forcing Daphne to follow.
She looked up at him, her beautiful blue eyes were rimmed red from the on-going stream of tears that leaked onto her lips and neck, her body finally started to shake and she let out an ear-shattering scream, followed by hoarse weeps that filled the living room.
Harry drew her to him, closing his arms around her waist and resting his head atop hers. He had to be there for her now – forget himself. Forget him and his problems… she'd just finished off her greatest tormentor for years, a man that also happened to be her father. A man who couldn't fulfil his duties, who couldn't do what was required of a father figure. A man who was an abhorrent creature that even Voldemort would be ashamed of.
He pulled her down with him as he lied down, his entire body was sore and was still somewhat tingly, and he guessed that she felt worse than he did. She allowed herself to be pulled down, and when they were lying down, she continued to sob into his shoulder, and he just held her… because what could he say? What could make everything all right? He had no idea what was going to happen to them; perhaps that was a good thing.
...
Cyrus only knew where the Greengrass residence was because his father had had dealings with the Greengrass family before. He hadn't, he had only taken an interest in Bishop's Bottles a year prior when his father offered to remove the Trace for his muggle-loving son.
Cyrus threw the mangled body of Mr Greengrass over his shoulders, not at all phased by the blood leaking onto his T-shirt. Cyrus was a thin boy, but he had strength that he hid. His father always joked that Cyrus' sinews for arms were muscles in disguise. Cyrus just thought people were extremely light to lift.
He almost laughed: Mr Greengrass' body hadn't started to go stiff yet, but he wondered if the body would even go stiff at all if it had no blood, or next to no blood, in it. This was, in reality, the first corpse he was 'taking care of', but he knew his father had done it. One had to carry on the family business, as it were.
He saw that the corpse was missing an eyeball, and wondered where it was. He guessed Harry and Daphne had it, and he wondered if they would let him have it. He'd always wanted a human eyeball, but placed under a stasis charm and perhaps used as a keychain. He could put it on the copy of the shop's keys he had.
His father never wanted him to have an eyeball, but he couldn't fathom why.
He threw the body down on the stairs, hearing a crack. He winced a little, but shrugged it off, because the man was dead anyways. Cyrus started singing a ditty to himself as he arranged the corpse. It didn't matter how the body was lying, but Cyrus thought Daphne would like it if he shoved the man's unbroken finger into his nose. He fastened the note Daphne had requested to Mr Greengrass' robes, and knocked loudly on the front door before apparating away.
Only minutes later did Mrs Greengrass find the fresh corpse, with blood dripping down the perfectly polished marble stairs, along with a note reading 'Happy Birthday'.
A/N: Is Cyrus not adorable?