Despite the fact that this game possessed the potential to be as violent as some of the less bloodthirsty sports back in Hell, there was only one emotion that Harry could use to describe his current situation. Boredom.
It didn't matter that the Slytherin's were barely toeing the line when it came to proper conduct.
Nor did it matter that the Gryffindor team was skilled enough to retain its lead despite the borderline cheating of its opponents. What mattered was that like his mother, he had developed a very particular mindset when it came to sporting events. If he didn't play the game himself, he had no interest in watching others play it. And since he had more fun flying freestyle than as a member of a team, he had no interest in ever picking up a broom himself.
Still, in order to maintain the illusion that he was nothing more than a normal student, albeit a highly gifted one with a gift for intelligent insults, he had agreed to accompany Tonks, and her know it all tag along, to show support for the House of the Lions.
And while he didn't really enjoy the game all that much, he had to admit that the Twins were pretty good at what they did. The ability to not only dodge fellow flyers at a moment's notice but also ensure that they were using their bats to send the animate cannonballs in the proper direction was clearly something that they had a talent for.
However, while he was on relatively good terms with the carrot twins, despite their continued refusal to share their secret on how they seemed to know things about the school that should be impossible, it wasn't enough to justify having to waste his afternoon standing with a bunch of cheering morons. He had more important things to do after all. With Snape currently sporting a rather obvious injury, he had to consider how he was going to take advantage of the Bat's current, and sadly temporary infirmity in order to make him pay for all his snide remarks.
Putting a dead animal in his bed was a thought, but since he had no intention of killing one himself, he would probably have to wait until Via could find the time to send him a taxidermy one. At which point Snape would be probably be recovered enough to make such an endeavor risky.
The creepy child routine, while effective in the right circumstances, lost some of its potency if he used it for prolonged periods of time. Though there was nothing wrong with giving him the occasional small reminder that he knew things no normal child should know. He could step up his game against the preteen Nazi and his thugs since they still failed to get the message that he was above their league. The only problem was he couldn't really decide how far he wanted to go with this.
Physical injury, while more than doable, was relatively pointless since the school nurse could literally regrow a person's bones. But since he had been working on his wandless skills to the point where he only needed to move a finger to levitate small objects, he was confident that he could…
"LOOK OUT!"
….
Despite the fact that it severely depleted his already limited reserves to take full control of his puppet's body, there was no way on earth that he was going to miss out on the developing spectacle.
While his plans to obtain the stone were given priority over his desire to kill the brat that had been prophesied to be his downfall, Quirrell's failure to make it past the three-headed mongrel, and the fact that he had made little progress in discovering the other defences, ensured that he would take advantage of this opportunity to rid himself of another thorn in his side.
Of course, it had been somewhat risky to place a time-sensitive spell on the bludger, if only because his puppet had no real excuse to explain why he was hanging around the room where Madam Hooch stored the school's Quidditch equipment.
But in the end, he had managed to accomplish his goal without being seen. Which meant that he was free to consider his observations of the boy during the moments before his impending demise.
While there were some differences between himself and the last Potter, namely the fact that he actually seemed to genuinely care for some of the people around him, there were also more than a few similarities.
His spellwork was brilliant for a boy his age, showing not only a natural talent for magic but also the unmistakable signs that he was eager to further improve his gifts.
He gave little thought to punishing those that displeased him. Though sadly, unlike his own tenure as a student, Potter had to deal with an instructor that was more blatant in his dislike for him. Though considering the nature of the subject he taught, and the relationship between himself and the last pure-blooded Potter, he shouldn't be surprised that Severus lacked Dumbledore's ability to appear unbiased.
And perhaps the most surprising of all, the boy's familiarity with death managed to surpass that of his eleven-year-old self.
It wasn't until his fifth year that he managed to finally see the herd of skeletal Pegasi, which meant that for Potter to possess the ability to see them he would have been exposed to the concept of death when he was old enough to understand it.
It would explain the boy's anti-social and disrespectful attitude, magic knows that he had acted differently after killing his fellow orphan's pet, but there was one other thing that continued to confuse him.
The boy carried himself in a fashion that was similar to that of his more competent underlings.
Nowhere near Bellatrix's level, or Lucius's, but it was undeniable that while more refined, there was a similarity to Fenrir's.
Which in turn made him somewhat unsurprised when the Potter managed to dodge the enchanted cannonball.
Allowing some of his control over his puppet to slip, for it wouldn't do to have a Hogwarts professor display anything but horror at the sight of a rogue bludger, Voldemort could only watch with cold amusement as his little murder attempt played out.
There was no denying that the boy was agile, for he managed to dodge not only his assailant but also the various spells that were being cast in order to destroy the violent projectile.
And the boy also showed no hesitation in using people to protect his own skin, in addition to cunningly using only those that were currently his enemies.
A shame that both Dumbledore and Severus managed to finally destroy the bludger before it could do more damage to his future followers, for pain was always a useful motivator to inspire competency in the ranks, but he supposed some good came out of this little demonstration.
He got to see that Potter had some cause for that confident attitude of his. Though whether it was a result of training or the use of a ritual he was still uncertain.
His future followers, in particular Lucius's spawn, were shown that they needed to put in some additional effort if they wished to be considered worthy to join his ranks. A pity that his influence in the other houses was not as well developed as the snake pit. Bella would have undoubtedly loved to have someone as skilled as her niece under her wing, perhaps to the point where her tainted blood could be looked over.
And perhaps the most amusing of all, though it was irrelevant to his long term plans, the chaos perpetuated by Potter's admirable instincts to protect his life at all costs, while resulting in only the severe injury in several of his fellow students, ensured that the other houses would have to wait another year before they could try and unseat Slytherin's supremacy on the Quidditch pitch.
He never played the game as a child, viewing it as a useless distraction in his quest to discover both his origins and the means to discover the deep mysteries of magic.
But he could still enjoy the simple pleasure of watching his house prove its superiority over the rest of the school.
Even if he would have preferred to use his ancestor's hidden weapon to do so.
But until he regained his body, he would savor the small victories.
….
While no one was hurt by the rather open attempt on his life, Harry was currently experiencing a type of anxiety that he had hoped never to feel while he was stuck in boarding school.
It didn't matter that no one was blaming him for the incident. Minus the Slytherins of course, but he honestly couldn't care about their well-being since they were all a bunch of inbred bootlickers.
And of the few people who were injured, none of them were his friends or acquittances for whom he held a touch of affection. Which meant that he didn't have to worry about whether or not the school nurse would be able to mend the broken bones caused by that magical bowling ball.
No.
What truly caused his recent bit of anxiety was something that was almost as terrifying as being outside Master Stolas's mansion when the heavenly a*** were performing their annual cleanse.
His mother. The woman who loved him, trained him, and encouraged him in all of his endeavors, was coming to Hogwarts in order to demonstrate her violent displeasure at the fact that her son had been the victim of, as his dad put it, inadequate safety measures for sports viewers.
He was grateful that she wouldn't be alone when she met the headmaster, though he doubted that even with his father's help her rage could be kept in check.
But the fact remained that his ax-wielding, trigger-happy parent was about to meet the man who had sentenced him to seven years of misery.
It had taken a good deal of bribery to convince Tonks to leave him be as he enjoyed the last bottle of booze had had safely stored in his trunk at the beginning of September.
And since the remainder of his house had gone to bed, Harry was left alone to ponder his fate in the Hufflepuff Common Room, with nothing more than a roaring fire, and whatever outdated tunes Magical Britain viewed to be tasteful.
He still found it rather sad that British Wizards had only managed to adapt one revolutionary piece of muggle technology for their enjoyment.
But Harry supposed that with the continuing influence of the bloc that maintained that anything produced by Muggles was inferior to what was made by Wizards, he was lucky to have something as reliable and workable as…
"We'll meet again.
Don't know where
Don't know when.
Oh I'll know we'll meet again some sunny day."
Shooting an annoyed glare at the radio, even if he found this particular song to be more enjoyable than the tunes that were clearly written for overweight housewives with too much time on their hands, Harry waved his hand to windlessly turn off the malfunctioning device.
Only to have his efforts thwarted by a voice that belonged to a Demon that he had once met years ago.
"Now don't touch that dial my charming reptilian fellow. It took a lot of effort to tap into the correct frequency of this charming community. And I would hate to have it all come to nothing before we have our little chat."
Quickly casting a series of privacy wards, for the last thing he needed was for someone to discover that the 'Boy Who Dodged', as the Twins now called him, was talking to some voice coming over the radio, Harry couldn't keep his annoyance out of his tone as he addressed his unexpected stalker.
"What the fu.."
"Now now dear boy. There's no need for that sort of language. I realize that you're at that age where a disrespectful attitude becomes more and more common. But since I would hate to inform your parents about the vulgarity of their child when they are no longer around to keep watch, I suggest you practice a more civil tone when you speak with me. Because after all...the sins of the child can be used to punish his parents just as easily."
Flinching as the Radio Demon's voice gained a quality that could only be described as terrifying, and ensuring that he had both his wand and the explosive tipped pistol he had been carrying around since he had been discharged from the Hospital Wing, Harry took a moment to get his temper under control before he tried again.
"What I tried to ask was, what the hell are you doing here?"
Irritatingly, his question was answered with an amused chuckle.
"My boy, I am neither with you in that cozy little dormitory of yours nor am I anywhere near that rather impressive piece of architecture you call a school. Surely your avian tutor explained to you that Sinners, unless they have been summoned by Lucifer himself, or are too weak to resist a summoning on the days where the line between the living and the dead becomes much more porous, are to forbidden from leaving the Circle of Pride. But luckily for me, I possess both the knowledge and the skills to exploit some of the small loopholes that fortunately allow us to have this conversation."
Wracking his brain to come up with the relevant information, Harry felt his eyes widen in realization before the slightly mocking voice of his 'guest' regained his attention.
"I wouldn't be surprised if you were unaware of this considering the abilities of both your tutor and that book of his. I find that when most people already possess a solution to a problem, they hardly ever stop to consider that perhaps there might be other methods to accomplish the same thing. Fortunately, my skill set allows me to make my presence known to you while still resting comfortably in the reading room of my parlor. I trust that this isn't a bad time?"
Shaking his head, before he realized that the Radio Demon probably couldn't see him, though it would probably be best not to make any rude gestures on the off chance that he could, Harry carefully considered his words before giving his reply.
"Depends what you mean by a bad time?"
"Oh, you know. Broken limbs. Trying to meet some academic deadline. I would include waiting on a lady you intend to romance, but I believe your still too young to be indulging in that sort of activity."
Huffing in annoyance at that last bit, even if he did agree with it, Harry shook his head as he gave a more verbal answer.
"Now's a good a time as any. What do you want?"
Suspecting that Alastor wanted to enter into some sort of deal with him, and remembering Stella's lessons about how one should never enter into an agreement until all the details were known, the green-eyed Hufflepuff rolled his eyes at the answer he received.
"Why ever do you think I want something from you dear boy? Can't two friendly acquaintances hold a chat with each other without hidden agendas?"
Deciding it would be a waste of time to point out that they had only interacted once, and Stolas and his parents had been quite firm in keeping the deer Demon away from his recently rescued self, Harry chose to respond in a manner that left little room for doubt.
"Because you're a dealmaker, and wouldn't have gone to all this trouble just to chat with an eleven-year-old boy. Obviously, you want something from me. I just don't know what it is yet."
For a moment the only thing that could be heard was static. But that quickly ended as Alastor, and what sounded to be a studio audience, burst into laughter.
"Hahahaha. Such an intelligent boy you are, my young friend. And unlike a certain acquaintance of mine, you at least have the decency to remain respectful when voicing your suspicions. It is true that I want something. But I assure you that the cost is very little to yourself. And I am prepared to be quite generous in order to get want I want."
Steeling himself for whatever demands that would be made of him, though he still intended to contact Stolas as soon as he could, Harry was caught off guard by Alastor's request.
"In return for helping you deal with the nuisances of Hell, whether it's throwing your parents' employer some additional business, or making it plain that I would be quite upset if anything were to happen to your charming little family, I want you to simply continue the exciting drama you are fortunately a star of. A simple enough exchange. Don't you think?
Cautiously nodding his head as he tried to determine if there were any loopholes to this rather bizarre request, Harry was prevented from responding thanks to the excited chattering of the older Demon.
"Today's performance was exactly the type of thing I need to sate my appetite for entertainment. Cheering crowds. Mindless destruction. And a protagonist who displays disregard for most of his peers. The annals of your school life are just the thing I need to entertain myself during the less exciting moments of my current charity work. Which means that I expect quality performances for my efforts."
Opening his mouth to try and point out the various flaws in this plan, the young dragon Demon was once again interrupted.
"Obviously asking a child of your years to deliver top quality material on a daily basis is rather unfair. So I am willing to tune in on a weekly basis rather than a daily one. Let's have the next two weeks serve as a trial period before we formalize our contract, shall we? Considering the upcoming meeting between your parents and your principal, I would hate to miss out on such a pivotal moment in your academic career."
Frowning at the amused laughter that followed Alastor's declaration, Harry still felt uneasy as the Radio Demon listed the somewhat reasonable, yet still creepy, limitations of what he would view.
"Your private moments of course will remain unknown to me, unlike a hardly lamented colleague of mine, as well as a certain arachnid associate, I am not a pervert. But I will be able to witness almost every blunt, and hopefully violent interaction you have with your peers. So make sure you continue to be the best dragon in sheep's clothing you can be."
His eyes twitched as the radio suddenly shut off, Harry was overcome with a certain set of emotions he occasionally had difficulty in expressing in a healthy way.
Anger at the fact that his academic life was now being used for the perverse entertainment of one of the more dangerous denizens of Hell.
Fear that his family would go on the warpath once they realized this.
And confusion since he had no idea how a Demon, who had a well-known affinity for radio, would be able to see his interactions as if it was some sort of TV drama.
Questions for another day since he had now decided on two things instead of one.
The first one was how to ensure that his mother didn't fly off the handle when she met Dumbledore.
And the second was which 'higher power' he could contact for his Radio Demon problem.
While Stolas was both more powerful magically and politically than the eccentric Sinner, his reputation had taken a bit of a beating ever since one of his servants had blabbed about his relationship with Blitzo. Which meant he might not have the necessary pull to get Alastor to back off.
And since Stella wasn't exactly in the most helpful of moods at the moment considering her involvement in these rumors, there was only really one person whom he could turn to.
But the problem was that asking HIM for help might be just as dangerous, perhaps even more so, than making a deal with Alastor.
He would dwell on it before making a decision.
For even if Lucifer had placed him here in order to serve as some sort of chess piece in the endless game against Heaven, there was no guarantee that he would lift a finger if said chess piece was being threatened by outside forces.
….
ANNNNNND that's enough for now lol.
Orginally intended this chapter to include another segment…BUT thought that it would be better if I have the important meeting between Dumbles and Millie, who will probably be pissed at the lack of safety/security, happen next chapter.
Hopefully you can all be patient :D
Has now been slightly over a year since I started this story. Happy Anniversary everyone Good time writing it, and reading both the comments and suggestions from those that like this story.
I have tried to stay as true to cannon as possible (at least in terms of personality) but I confess that I find a lot of fan material more enjoyable/heartwarming/tear causing than cannon. At least in certain ways. Notable examples include the idea of Blitzo adopting Loona when she was a puppy instead of 17, nature of Stolas and Stella's relationship. Believe I've said this before, but this IS a fanfic lmao. So hopefully I can be forgiven for straying a little.
Also, the idea has been raised to be by numerous people now that in the future of this story I change the nature of the Hazbin/Happy Hotel from one of redemption to therapy. I confess that the idea has a lot of merit. Will expand on it in later chapters tho.
Also pleased to see that people, when they are not reminding me of the fact that Sinners cannot leave Pride, which I promise will be addressed in this story, are expressing a positive opinion in regards to Angel working for Ozzie. The mechanics of how that will work will be revealed at a later date, but looking forward to writing about a character that, while embodying a specific sin, is not as evil as a certain Moth Pimp.
In the last episode he, quite rightly, informs/mocks Moxxie that romantic songs are not something that plays well at his club. And even gives him a chance to try again. The episode sorta made me agree with the in universe Moxxie haters, at least to a degree. The guy know's he's in Hell. Know's he's in a place that celebrates lust, and decides to publicly express his heartwarming feelings to his wife. And then acts surprised at all the mockery? Not his brightest moment.
Anyways….this chapter was pretty straightforward.
Harry at the first Qudditch game of the season. Quirellmort trying his first attempt to kill him, though since Harry isn't playing he uses a more lethal intended version of Dobby's more violent attempt to protect Harry from the Chamber.
And of course…..Alastor informing Harry that he is now a source of regular entertainment for him. Lot of potential directions I could go with this. But wont spoil anything :D Also think that I chose the perfect song for Alastor to make his presence known. Even if it belongs to a certain demonic triangle lol.
Once again big thanks to Darksycthe Drake and StarDustDragonknight for their roles as editors and sounding boards. Recommend you read StarDustDragonknight's new Hazbin/Harry Potter story. Cool concept.
Plz review.
No flames.
Til next time.