Okay, so, I could have posted the next chapter of Quarian's Wizard, but I really got into writing my first attempt at a Resident Evil: Village crossover. After a few false starts, I think this is promising. Unlike a lot of my TWT stories, WBWL or not, the first chapters don't involve Harry learning he's ended up in the TWT. I felt I needed to establish the relationship Harry has with the characters of the game first, as well as setting up at least part of the pairing, namely with Bela. Certainly, I'll be building on the characters from the game, especially Miranda, the Dimitrescus, and the Duke. I'm also admittedly fudging the timeline somewhat, as Donna doesn't get the Cadou until 1996, two years after this story is set, but here, she got it some time in the 80s, about the time Harry ended up in Romania.

What's more, unlike most of my WBWL fics, I'm actually going to be doing little James-bashing. Although he's made some very poor decisions and Harry is antagonistic towards him for understandable reasons, he won't be evil. Antagonistic, perhaps, but not evil.

Now, keep in mind, even if this sample chapter takes your fancy, there's no guarantee whatsoever that this will become a fully-fledged fic. So while I'll be grateful for the praise this potential story will get, there's no guarantee it will go anywhere. I do have a few alternate story ideas for a Resident Evil: Village fic, but this is perhaps one of the more interesting, especially with developing the characters from the game. I have interesting plans in place, with a rather strange revelation about the Duke's past, as well as a character arc for Mother Miranda, who is, in many regards, one of the more sympathetic villains in the franchise, alongside Eveline and the Bakers.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy...


NIMROD

CHAPTER 1:

HUNTERS AND PREY

In a remote corner of Romania sits a village. It's a small, rural place that does not appear on many maps. Its name is Cioarăfsat(1), but even by that name, it isn't well-known.

Life is hard and harsh there. Winters are especially cruel, and even in the summer, there is a chill in the air. And yet, there is prosperity, of a sort.

And the village itself weathered many tumultuous events in the 20th Century. It survived the Spanish Flu, and indeed, in a perverse manner, that tragedy sparked off its strange prosperity. It sneered at the dictatorship of King Carol II, and then at the successive reigns of military dictator Ion Antonescu and Carol's heir, Michael I, aka Mihai I. It weathered the Second World War, with the Nazis and the Soviets causing problems within Romania. It ignored the revolution by the communists, led by Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej, and the brutal regime that followed, even after Nicolae Ceauşescu took over. And it raised nary an eyebrow at the overthrow of Ceauşescu's regime some five years previously.

While not truly unchanging, many things were not so different from when the village had been devasted by Spanish Flu. The area was ruled, more or less, by the local aristocracy, a quartet of lords, many of whom were descended from foreigners: Dimitrescu, Heisenberg, Moreau and Beneviento. But the true ruler of this land was a woman by the name of Miranda.

To most outsiders, she would be seen as, at best, a religious figurehead, and at worst, as a cult leader. However, she was many things. She was, surprisingly for a religious figure, a scientist. Indeed, under a number of pseudonyms, she had written a number of controversial but intriguing papers on microbiology in general, and mycology in particular.

To those in the know, she seemed like a dictator, little better than those who had ruled over Romania for much of the 20th Century. The only difference with them seemed to be that her remit covered only a relatively small part of the country. And yet, whispers abounded within the village that her atrocities made those of not only the dictatorships, but also those of the likes of Vlad Tepes pale by comparison. For all that Vlad the Impaler was considered a national hero in Romania, there was no getting past the fact that he gained his moniker for a reason.

And yet, to those who kept her favour, Miranda was a somewhat benevolent leader. She had protected them from the depredations of those who ruled or warred over Romania. She ensured their protection from outsiders.

Yet outsiders came to the village, and sometimes were welcomed by Miranda and the Four Lords. Of them all, one of the more regular outsiders was a strange man. He was an itinerant merchant, a man of astonishing girth, and with a sardonic, boisterous attitude that hid a surprisingly soft heart. He seemed to be British, but that was all anyone could really tell about him.

He was known by many names, though his favoured one was the Duke.

Some years prior, while on one of his regular visits to Cioarăfsat, the Duke picked up a child, adopting him. The child had been the victim of a kidnapping, and the kidnappers had made the mistake of making their hideout within Miranda's territory. The child grew up under the aegis of the Duke, though he often resided in the village, being tutored by Miranda and the Four Lords.

What wasn't know was that, during the last few years, this child had become notorious in certain circles in Eastern Europe, a mercenary who specialised particularly in assassinations and abductions, particularly of crime lords and those who had profited from the various totalitarian regimes. After sending a Nazi war criminal to Israel, it was Mossad who dubbed him by his current name: Nimrod, after the hunter-king from Biblical times.

Of course, his real name would be infamous in certain other circles, but that's another matter entirely…


"Boys and girls of every age,

Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

Come with us and you will see

This our town of Halloween.

This is Halloween! This is Halloween!

Pumpkins scream in the dead of night!

This is Halloween! Everybody make a scene!

Trick or treat 'til the neighbours gonna die of fright!

It's our town! Everybody scream!

In this town of Halloween…"

Singing a song rather cheerfully, despite the macabre lyrics, a young man, in his late teens, walked through the decrepit building. Dressed rather casually, especially compared to the other inhabitants of the village, his emerald eyes twinkled with good cheer behind his glasses. His dark hair was a messy mop, partly obscuring a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead. Though lanky, he did have enough muscle that, while not enough to punch a boulder in a volcanic caldera, he was quite fit and strong.

He came into a chamber that could have once been a chapel, albeit one that had seen better days. Standing near the altar was a figure in black robes, seemingly covered in feathers, and wearing a stole, making her seem like a priestess in many regards. Her regal features were beautiful, but vaguely aged. Her dark eyes were usually cold and calculating, though they rolled with exasperation. "Must you quote that damnable Disney film?"

"Technically, it's Tim Burton, working for Disney. You can't deny that Tim Burton has a wonderful taste for the macabre," the young man said. "Or that Danny Elfman is a good composer."

"…Fair enough," the woman said. "I presume you have spoken with your guardian?"

"Of course. The Duke was happy to see me back, but I thought you'd want me to bring you your specimens, Miranda. Found quite a few good ones, too…or rather, really bad ones, so I have no qualms about what you or the others do to them."

Miranda nodded. "While your qualms are something of a hindrance, you always find quality specimens. May I?"

The young man nodded, and fished from a suitcase about a dozen manila folders, before spreading them out on the altar. "I managed to track down quite a few former members of the Securitate, and we're talking nasty pieces of work, the ones who would happily torture civilians. Oh, by the way, better not let Alcina have that one: he was a serial rapist, but he's got a long list of VDs."

"What does he have?" Miranda asked, her face a study in morbid curiosity.

"A better question is, what doesn't he have? And as much as I'd love to hear this guy being eaten alive by Alcina and her daughters for once, I'm not sure whether the Cadou gives them total immunity to some of these things. That being said, I'll be happy to let her have these ones. These two ran a certain orphanage. Remember the Hansel and Gretel incident in Roanapur last year? Well, it was thanks to these two running a snuff film business involving orphans(2)."

Miranda looked at the files, and then grimaced. While she had no qualms about experimenting on people, it was a means to an end. Doing such vile things for pure pleasure was a line she didn't want to cross. Even the Dimitrescu family, for all their own antics, refused to do so to children. "I'll take samples from them. I allowed Heisenberg to have his fun with most of the last batch, so I believe I will allow Alcina and her daughters to have their fun with some of these this time. You have done well, Harry."

"Thank you, Miranda."

Despite his thanks, Harry Potter did feel somewhat ill at ease around this woman. It wasn't the mutations she had as part of her infection with the Mutamycete, a massive fungal growth that dwelled beneath this village. Rather, it was her lack of scruples, the fact that, despite the trappings of caring for those under her aegis, Miranda was cold and amoral, caring only about her experiments designed to revive her long-dead daughter Eva.

This wasn't to say they weren't on good terms. Miranda didn't care about where Harry got specimens for her, although his attempts at bringing her the scum of Eastern Europe did meet with some approval, and she had been his teacher for a number of years, on the request of his actual guardian, the Duke. Indeed, thanks to her, he could safely say that he was at least at a university level when it came to the sciences. He had been lacking in maternal figures ever since he was kidnapped from Britain and brought over to Romania by a bunch of Voldemort fanboys, and Miranda did fill that gap somewhat…though nobody could replace his own mother, who was currently in a coma in St Mungo's.

But ultimately, Harry treated Miranda more like an employer than a friend or family. In truth, he had a not-dissimilar relationship with the Four Lords and their associates. For the most part, anyway.

Salvatore Moreau, for example, Harry was on fairly neutral terms with, the childish, deformed man being a sycophant towards Miranda. Harry was on far better terms with Karl Heisenberg, but the affable magnetism manipulator was nonetheless someone to be wary of, especially with his crude cybernetic experiments. The same went for Alcina Dimitrescu and her adopted daughters, who once delighted in tormenting their hapless staff, and while Harry brought them deserving people to torment, he still felt uneasy around them, especially Alcina. He was on decent enough terms with them, though, especially Bela and Daniella.

He couldn't say the same about Donna Beneviento. The quiet, gentle and shy recluse of a woman was fairly harmless, and while her 'living' dolls were lethal, and her favourite, 'Angie', was a gleeful sadist, he got along well with both Donna and Angie, more than the others of the Four Lords. He had managed to break through the shell of the young woman.

Breaking through his reverie, Miranda said, "I will finalise the distribution of these specimens when I have the others meet tonight. You have done very well, Harry. Are you certain you wish only for remuneration? Your services to us have warranted my granting you the gift of the Cadou many times over, and…"

"I'm sorry, Miranda, but my answer remains, for now, no."

A slight tightening of her lips betrayed her disappointment and irritation at this. "…I ask that you reconsider," she said gently, despite said irritation. "I have not failed to notice that you have grown closer to at least Bela Dimitrescu, in spite of your…misgivings about the Dimitrescus. Wizards may live for longer than most humans, but barring accidents or malice, Bela will outlive you."

Harry bristled at this. He wasn't sure Miranda truly cared about her much-vaunted family, and she had tried to manipulate him, albeit subtly, into accepting her offer before. "Please, leave it. I'll work things out later."

Miranda chose that moment to back off. "Very well. The specimens?"

Harry fished a bunch of marbles from his coat pocket, and laid them out. "They'll be under for another couple of hours with what I dosed them with, and they'll be tied up." He put them carefully on the floor, and then brought out a wand, and waved it. The marbles turned into people, trussed up like turkeys.

Miranda nodded. "Good. I appreciate your efforts, Harry, despite your refusal of my gift. I look forward to the next shipment…"


Harry left the chapel, and went to track down his guardian. Given the cold weather, Harry felt that he was sure where the man would be. He went towards a massive castle, its spires clawing at the cloudy sky as if to tear it down. It was like something out of a Hammer Horror film, which wasn't too far from the reality.

After entering, he made his way to an entrance hall, with a quartet of statues arrayed near a door. As he made to head towards another door, one opposite the one he intended to enter opened, and a most extraordinary figure ducked under the lintel. "So, you've come back," a husky contralto spoke. "If you're wondering about the Duke, he's in his usual annex in there."

Harry nodded. "I figured, Alcina."

The woman standing in front of him pursed her lips in irritation, but didn't voice that irritation. She looked like she could have stepped out of the Twenties or Thirties, dressed in a slinky white dress that nonetheless exposed a significant part of the woman's bountiful breasts. A wide-brimmed hat sat on an angle on her head, with wavy black hair framing aristocratic, haughty, middle-aged features that nonetheless had the beauty of a Hollywood star of yesteryear. A cigarette in a holder completed the ensemble.

Of course, the woman was nearly three metres tall, and her skin was deathly pale. Her eyes were golden. And Harry knew for a fact that she drank human blood on a regular basis, though calling her a vampire was a bit of a misnomer.

After a moment, Alcina's features softened. "My girls missed you while you were away. I would say you were a bad influence on them, but honestly, I'm not sure what to call it."

"Is it a bad influence to get you criminals and people who deserve you feeding on them?" Harry asked.

"As I have said before, you should look at the very scum you hunt, Nimrod, before you start judging what my daughters and I do to survive," Alcina said haughtily. "I appreciate what you do for us, but I am far better than those man-things you prey on."

Harry gave her a level glare, before he sighed. He knew this argument would get them nowhere. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that I got a whole bunch of them, nasty pieces of work. I'm sure Miranda will give you some for you and your girls to play with."

"I can hardly wait," Alcina purred, walking over to Harry, her expression softening again. "And I do appreciate your services to us. I could do without the moralising, though. But…"

Before she could continue, there was the sound of insects buzzing around Harry. Massive swarms of flies appeared, before coalescing into a trio of robed, feminine figures, who flung themselves at him with a chorus of "Harry!"

Harry was nearly bowled over by the trio of figures. He did feel a little uneasy at their effusive greetings, especially as they viewed blood in the same way most girls their apparent age viewed lipstick, but they were at least genuinely friendly, in their twisted way. "Girls," he said.

"How was your trip? Did you go somewhere nice?" asked the redhead. Daniela, the daughter who was most detached from reality, playful and yet prone to vicious tantrums.

"Did you bring new playthings back?" demanded the brunette. Cassandra, the most sadistic of the three, which was something of an achievement, and probably the one that Harry was most wary of.

"Settle down, daughters, and give him some space," Alcina said.

They did so, and Harry smiled at them. "Well, aside from some new playthings, I did manage to get this in Bucharest." He picked out a cardboard box from his suitcase, showing a dragon logo.

Cassandra's eyes widened, and she snatched it from his hands. "Wow, Mortal Kombat II? They really did make a sequel? Thanks!"

Her gratitude was echoed by her sisters, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle. He'd seen them at their worst, as bloodthirsty and vicious monsters, but it was times like these that reminded him that, for all the darker sides to their personality, they retained more than superficial vestiges of humanity. Getting excited over a video game, even one as violent as a Mortal Kombat game, was one of them.

"I hope this one has Scorpion in it," Daniella said. "I love his harpoon thing. GET OVER HERE!" she roared in a bad imitation of the xanthine ninja's battle cry.

"Just don't try to copy it again, Dani," retorted the third sister, who was blonde. Belladonna 'Bela' Dimitrescu was the most level-headed of the three. "Remember what happened to that Lycan you attempted it on? You only succeeded in pulling out most of the contents of his torso."

"It was the one time, Bela," Daniella pouted. "Besides, what's the old saying? Practise makes perfect?"

"Now, now, settle down, girls," boomed a deep, rasping voice from the door Harry had intended to enter originally. A rotund figure was framed in the door, blonde hair framing cherubic features. The man was so obese, his misshapen belly protruded out from the bottom of his shirt, and he looked like he shouldn't even be able to walk, and yet, he was standing in the doorway. "Good to see you back, Harry. I trust things turned out well?"

"Of course they did, old man," Harry said, albeit with an affectionate smile to the man who had been his guardian for the past decade or so. "By the way, I ran into your old friend again in Trifas(3). He sold me a couple of things he said you were looking for."

"Ahh, I'll be sure to reimburse you for them, Harry," the Duke said. "Anyway, it's Halloween tomorrow night. I doubt we'll have many trick-or-treaters, but I thought we could do what we did last year and have a movie night. I also decided to go for some really old-school stuff."

"As long as it's not a vampire film, I don't see why not," Alcina remarked.

"Certainly. Why, I managed to even track down a copy of the Hammer Horror version of Quatermass and the Pit(4)!" the Duke said.

It may have seemed odd to an outsider who knew what they were. A quartet of vampires, a wizard, and a rotund arms merchant, having a movie night on Halloween. And yet, while not quite as close as family, such were the dynamics of their odd relationships.

They didn't know it, but on the other side of the continent, in a castle in a remote part of Scotland, events were in motion that very night that would bring Harry back to the land of his birth…and back to a father he never wanted to see again…

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

So…a WBWL fic, one where Harry is a mercenary…and was adopted by the Duke, and is on cordial relations with the Four Lords and Miranda. Oh dear. We'll get to his backstory later.

The lyrics, of course, are to This is Halloween by Danny Elfman from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Naturally, I don't own the rights to the song. I actually prefer the Marilyn Manson cover, which I saw on an excellent AMV of Soul Eater.

I'm aware that Donna Beneviento doesn't get a Cadou until 1996, but for the sake of this story, she got one a few years prior to Harry ending up in Romania.

1. My attempt at Romanian translation, calling the place 'Crow Village' or 'Crowsville'. Please don't flame me, native Romanian speakers, if I cocked it up.

2. A reference to Hansel and Gretel, aka two of the most freakiest characters from the action anime Black Lagoon. Their backstory is one of the most tragic and disturbing ever done for fiction.

3. The Romanian town that is the setting for much of Fate/Apocrypha. And yes, the old friend is the Merchant from Resident Evil 4.

4. Yes, my username comes from somewhere, namely a trilogy of TV serials from the 50s (plus one from the 70s) about a scientist called Professor Bernard Quatermass. The third serial, Quatermass and the Pit, is debatably the best, and so too was its Hammer Horror adaptation.