Chapter One: The Misconceptions of Morals
"Can't you believe it!" His acquaintance said, Ronald Weasley. A nice little poor boy who had a natural oblivious disposition. Harry wouldn't normally waste time around people like him — but he was the boy who lived after all. Keep up the facade. He cocked his head slightly mechanically and asked. "What is it?" The satisfaction rumbled in his stomach, a smirk was fighting it's way to his lips. Oh he knew exactly what Ronald was talking about.
"Look." Ron flipped the front of the paper, and there it was! Another one of his brilliant masterpieces, a murder, he, Harry had killed the girl. Pierced the sword of her own house through her skinny body. Hermione Granger, she had figured it out when no one else could.
That he was Keres, a very much newly feared name among wizards and witches. A vile, shameless serial killer. Some rumours had been spread that he was Lord Voldemort, yet under a new sobriquet to instill more fear throughout the Wizarding World.
Which wasn't true. He just loved killing in general. Nobody besides him would truly feel the adrenaline rush of bloodshed. The screams, how they desperately tried to beg, begged him not to do it. To have mercy, such a foreign concept to his consciousness… a thing that didn't exist in Harry's mind as it was only his goals that mattered and his ambitions only. But he'd plunged the sword into them anyway, watched the blood pool out onto the floor, as he — he'd be the one who heard their final cries.
"Harry…Harry mate? Are you okay?" Ronald's voice intruded upon his thoughts. He'd blinked and responded to his sycophant. "Yes… Ronald." Add a charming smile, and ta da! The perfect manipulation tactic. Ronald handed him the paper, and read through it. He'd had to berate himself multiple times mentally — to not laugh, not even smirk. At the fact that his murder, all his. Had ended up on the front, not Voldemort's or any other old tosser's crime. But his. Filled his belly with delightful warmness that he welcomed with familiarity.
But he'd admit that it wasn't as thrilling as it was to commit the crime. It wasn't even remotely challenging at all. The know it all mudblood was all alone, as she had no friends. Served her right. All he had to do was transform out of his animagus form and stun her and take her to a dingy, disused area in Hogsmeade.
Flashback!
'Rennverate!' He pointed his wand at the motionless teenager. She woke up with a jolt, her frightened brown eyes taking in her scenery before stopping on his figure.
'You… you! Let me out!' Granger's shrill scream was like a joke to Harry, it had gotten him more animalistic, more aware of what he was going to do. He stepped on the girl with his boots. 'SHUT UP!' He yelled, the bestial tone of his voice made the girl falter.
As she tried tugging on the ropes in a futile attempt of magically getting out. 'I knew… I should've. Told the aurors who you were, Keres. You monster…" The defeated tone sated the demon that raged on in Harry's gut but he knew it wouldn't be long.
'But it's too late for 'I should've's" isn't it, Granger?' The whimpers were like sounds of agreement to him. As the demon once again coiled and wrapped around him wanting part of the bloodlust.
'I'm going to kill you. I bet you've figured that on your own though, with this.' He pulled out the sword that had been shrunk and enlarged it. Granger's eyes widened when she recognized it and spoke. 'The Sword of Gryffindor… where'd you find it? It's been missing for ages, Potter.'
'Not hard when you're Dumbledore's favourite boy… now I hate to cut this short Granger, but I want to see if your blood is as dirty as they say it is to be.' He smiled sadistically as he pulled out a dagger from his bag. The screams, the pathetic wailing and him laughing, blood an abundance of that copper smelling crimson that Harry had become addicted to in such a short time frame.
'Please… please…' Hermione's pitiful mumblings enticed Harry, the beauty of death aroused him in a way none of the female specimen's curves could do so. 'What, Hermione love… what do you want me to do?' The monster inside of him let loose, fully possessing him. 'Kill me.' The girl's cheeks were already paling as she was going through the stages of death. And so Harry gripped onto the hilt of Gryffindor's Sword and penetrated it straight through her midriff propping it up as though her dead body was a puppet.
His cheeks were flushed, breath ragged bathing in the sensations of a good torture session. Her screams worked his brain around the clock, as through every neutron was trying to save the muggleborn's sounds of pain. The familiar crack of apparition, and his was sound of mind again and grabbed his dagger and sword. Transformed into his raven form, and flew off away and into the night, leaving his gory playground.