Chapter 89, Knitting, Newspapers, and Knives.

"Word" – Speech.

'Word' – Thought.

"Word" – Slender Speech.

#Word# - Texts, messages, phone calls and on-screen words. Will have speech marks if words are being spoken at the same time as they appear on-screen or through a speaker.

~Word~ - Written words.

$"Word"$ - Parseltongue.

Disclaimer, Harry Potter is the creative property of J.K Rowling and the studio that produced the films.

Any CreepyPastas mentioned in this fic will have their creators stated in the endnotes.

I also have no ownership of any brands, games, franchises or shows mentioned in this fic.

Any persons mentioned outside of the stories that this fic is based on, that I haven't stated are a reference, are purely fictional. I do not condone killing unless it is justified, i.e. hunting animals for food or as a last resort in defence. Any similarities to any persons mentioned are purely coincidental unless it is in reference then I will have stated where the reference was from if it is overly obscure at the end.

Locations in which the kills are chosen are selected by online generators and I zoom in to see what's near there on google maps. All kill scenes that I write that did not occur in the Harry Potter book series are not based on any real-life events.

Author's note.

Ok, so if you haven't re-read the last chapter, I added a small bit onto the end.

It was supposed to be there, but my computer froze for a moment and I accidentally deleted it when trying to get it to work.

And, as you can guess, I managed to recover the word document.

There might be a bit missing at the end, still trying to remember everything, so I hope this goes well and I can remember what it was for the next one.

Oh, almost forgot, I mentioned that I've been getting back into drawing lately, well I've found a template for something that I've been wanting to draw for a while, so if you can find my Pinterest, then there's going to be something new there eventually.




The last rays of the sun slowly crept away from the towers of Hogwarts as night began to crawl its way over the land.

Inside the castle, torches had been lit, fires crackled softly and threatened to burn the shoes that people had left there to dry after a drizzling afternoon softened the dirt for those going to Care Of Magical Creatures.

High in the Gryffindor common room, two fifth-year students were sat looking over their latest piece of homework for Potions.

"Ok, I've got that the most common sources of Moonstone are Sri Lanka and India, with some other notable deposits in Australia, Germany, Norway, and Switzerland," Isaac listed off, "... and that it is linked with calming, soothing, and feminine energy, have you got it's... uses in...


She wasn't listening.

"Hello, Ground Control to Major... insert pun on your name here," he finished as he couldn't think of a way to end his joke, "Hello?"

When that didn't work, he played dirty.

"Hermione, your book bag's on fire,"

That got her attention.

After giving him a swift withering stare, she returned to observing the small crowd of first-years that were sat around Fred and George Weasley and Lee Jordan.

"No, they've gone too far," Hermione said, looking around to see if she could find Dean Thomas, the other Prefect for Gryffindor.

"He's been sent to help Filch watch some third-years that tracked in muck through the entrance hall clean up their mess," Isaac told her, watching now as Fred and George handed out sweets amongst the group, "What'd you bet, Fainting Fancies, or Puss Pops?"

One by one, the first-years slumped over as if shot by one of L.J's more potent tranquillizer darts.

As Hermione put her book down and went to go tell the twins off, Hedwig flew in through one of the high windows and dropped a letter onto his lap.

Almost immediately, Fizz scurried out of Isaac's pocket and up onto her back.

The two of them had seemingly come to an agreement between themselves that Fizz was allowed to ride Hedwig's back.

What Hedwig got in return, he had no idea.

After tearing open the envelope, Isaac shook open the letter and started reading.

The more he read, the wider his smile got.

~Heyo, Kiddo!

Been a while since we saw you and things are DULL!~

The 'dull' had been underlined several times.

~So, was wondering if you wanted to stretch your legs a bit, as well as some other muscles, and get out of that stuffy castle for a bit?

Plus, Ben's been getting mopey since he can only catch you at night and it's "just not the same" - his words,~

Isaac rolled his eyes, skimming over the rest that was about meeting him at midnight on the coming Saturday, before quickly tucking the letter away into his bag as Hermione came back from chastising the twins.

"So, they gonna stop using the firstie's as lab mice?" Isaac asked her, passing the piece of parchment he had written down his references on to her so she could look them up herself.

"They'd better," she said, flicking through The Secret Strengths of Stones for a moment before putting it down with a sigh, "I'm going to miss you,"

"That's why you lead your target," Isaac said, looking up and smiling at her, "Besides, it's not like we're not going to see each other after this,"

Hermione gave him a sad little smile, returning back to the book and finding her page again.

"Oh, I can't focus now," she said, putting the book back down, "Those two..."

Breaking off in mutters, Hermione began rummaging her bag.

Frowning as something woollen and lumpy was dumped down on the table in front of him, it took Isaac a moment to realise what was going on.

"Hermione, why are putting a pair of knitted pancreases on the table?" he asked her, lifting a piece of parchment she had covered them with before his hand was slapped away.

"They're hats," she said, "I'll admit that I'm not the best at knitting, but I can do a lot better now that we're back in Hogwarts, so leave them,"

"Hermione... eh, what's the harm?" he shrugged, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sway his friend's mind as she retired to the girl's dorm for the night.

The day had been a long one, and the repetitive task of reading, writing, checking, and then repeating over and over had begun to get tiring.

Considering that it was the third essay he was writing for homework, he probably deserved to call it there for the night as well. So as he was packing away his book bag, he didn't notice the figure watching him from across the common room.

As he ascended the stairs, the sound of a second pair of footsteps soon joined his and he froze just inside the door.

Throwing his book bag onto his bed, wincing as he remembered that the inkpot he had been using didn't have the best stopper, he quickly leapt up and hauled himself up onto the rafters in the room as quietly as a cat stalking a moth would be if that cat didn't have the tendencies to launch itself headfirst at a window.

Slowing his breathing so the only sound in the room was the faint whistle of wind behind the glass windows and warm crackle of the fire in the heater, he watched as his attempted tail walked into the room.

A head of sandy hair bobbed into the room.

Isaac slinked between the beams, quickly pushing his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose, as he crept carefully behind Seamus before silently lowering himself down. His landing barely made a noise as he hung by the tips of his fingers before dropping down.

Seamus didn't seem to have heard him, quite appropriate since that had been Isaac intention, and his Irish roommate continued to look around before spotting the tossed book bag that lay splayed on the bed.

Crossing his arms, with what Isaac assumed was a smirk on his face, Seamus leant back, intending to wait for Isaac to reveal himself, to rest against the door.

"Good evening,"

The Gryffindor teen leapt near two foot into the air, practically skipping away from the statuesque and silent Isaac that he had been about to lean against.

"So, how was your day?" Isaac asked him, an overly chipper tone to his voice and a smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes but still kept them looking just a hint psychotic.

After not getting a reply from a rather pale Seamus, Isaac slowly walked over to his bed to clear it so he could actually get to sleep.

"What really happened to Diggory?" Seamus blurted out, his courage returning.

"He got killed by Volde... no, wait... he got killed by Peter Pettigrew, who was following order's from Voldemort so that he could be resurrected," Isaac backtracked on what he was saying, picking up the inkpot and letting out a sigh of relief that it hadn't spilt, "So, all in all, he got killed,"

"And you didn't do anything to try and stop it?" Seamus asked, moving around the room so he was next to his own bed.

"I was a little preoccupied with being poisoned to do anything,"

Nothing was said between the two for a moment.

"Me Mam didn't want me to come back this year, 'cause of everything The Prophet was saying about Dumbledore," Seamus said, breaking the silence, "But this is my O.W.L year, y'know, so didn't really want to miss that one out,"

"Yeah, same here," Isaac said, "This is the last year I'll be spending here, leaving once I'm done,"

Isaac thought the conversation had finished by that point, climbing onto his bed and getting ready to draw the curtains to a close with a charm so they couldn't be opened from the outside to ensure he would have privacy to change, but it seemed that Seamus had one last thought on his mind.

"Are you really a hitman?" he asked.

Isaac slowly turned around from his perch on his bed and stared at Seamus, not breaking eye-contact with the sandy-haired boy, before letting his mouth split open wide in a smile that would make any man uneasy before slowly drawing the curtains around his bed to a close.

Judging by the sound of the door closing shortly after, it would seem that Seamus was no longer in the room.

The rest of the week passed by with...

... and, eventually, the Saturday night arrived and brought with it a layer of clouds thick enough to obscure the Astronomy Tower enough so that classes were halted until it cleared.

Peeking out through the curtains, Isaac quickly and quietly climbed back out and opened his trunk.

"Hey, wake up!" he softly spoke to the small lump of midnight-blue cloth that was curled up in a winter hat, "Fizz, time to get to work!"

With a few squeaks, and a quick turn or two of his key, Fizz rattled into life and scurried up Isaac's arm.

After telling the small mouse the plan, he quickly changed into his 'murder suit' as Ben had taken to calling it, before wrapping himself up in his dressing gown, and sitting up in bed with a book open in front of him.

The hours ticked by, and if Isaac was being honest, he was getting a bit too interested in the book and wouldn't have minded it if L.J didn't turn up.

But, as arranged, as soon as the hands on the clock hit twelve, a flurry of black smoke that smelled vaguely of cotton candy and burnt sugar wafted in through the closed bathroom door.

Silently climbing out, Isaac carefully crept across the dorm and over to the bathroom.

"Took you long enough," Laughing Jack remarked, sitting on top of a cistern.

He wasn't the only person in the room.

"Oh, right, Isaac, meet Daniel," L.J said, gesturing to the black-haired zombie child sitting on the toilet next to him, "Daniel, Isaac,"

Daniel waved rather happily at him.

"He's going to be your stand-in for the night," L.J explained, "It'd be a bit hard to explain why you disappeared for the night and get found covered in blood,"

"I don't make that much of a mess," Isaac protested, "I'm not Jeff or E.J,"

"Says you," L.J snorted, "Right, debate on who's the messiest aside for later, I think we've got somewhere else to be, don't we?"

L.J turned to look at Daniel, who had now glamoured himself up so that he looked pretty much a clone of Isaac, except maybe with a bit of a wider face and tidier hair.

Daniel carefully crept into Isaac's bed, drawing the curtains closed and settling down so that if anyone checked in during the night they would never suspect a thing.

Meanwhile, L.J had held Isaac by the shoulder and transported the two of them to an almost barren street. The sun was still in the sky, though just barely, and was feebly casting the street in shimmering tones of golden amber.

"We're here," L.J said, letting go of Isaac once they had found their balance on the roof of a house, grit from the tiles grinding underfoot.

"Where are we?" Isaac asked, a small grin beginning to pull at the edges of his mouth as the familiar rush of excitement he had missed began rushing his system.

"House of a kid who's now staying at my carnival," L.J said, sliding down the roof and hanging over the edge to look into a window, "Kid snapped, and it's quite rare that I can find out why they would as well.

For her, it was her father,"

"How come?" Isaac asked, carefully peering over as well.

"Don't know,"

"You said that you found out why she did," Isaac pointed out.

"Maybe should've phrased that better," L.J began mumbling about pedantic pipsqueaks, "I know that the dad would've played into it somehow, just no specifics...

Don't know why you're complaining about things, you're out of Castle Crap-enstein for a good couple of hours, and I didn't even get a thank you,"

"Thank you..." Isaac said, rolling his eyes as he adjusted his face-mask, "... oh gracious murder clown,"

"You are most welcome, tiny fire child," L.J mock bowed before transporting the two of them into an empty room.

"I'm like an inch from six-foot,"

"Now go put that bozo six foot under," L.J ushered Isaac towards the door as he adjusted his hood.

"Wait," Isaac paused at the door, "Does Slender know I'm out of the castle?"

"He knows," L.J said with a wave of his hand, urging him to go, "Sorted this out with tall and scary before I got you. He agreed that you'd been a bit too cooped up ever since the attack of the flying toilet paper rags, and that this would be good for you since repression isn't healthy,"


Old cans of beer threatened to spill over from the bulging bin that sat next to the worn and stained armchair, the pungent odour, a mix of stale and fresh cigarette, threatened to eradicate any chances of smelling ever again.

The man sitting in the chair had his eyes glued to the screen, as if there wasn't a single thing in the world that could have gotten him to redirect his gaze.

Even when the t.v sagged a little lower towards the ground, his eyes didn't flicker one inch save for following it down.

Taking another swig of the open can in his hand, followed by a drag from the stump of a cigarette in the other, the man put the can down on the leaflet his now ex had insisted he take about Rowan's funeral, creating yet another rim stain on the discoloured picture of his now-deceased daughter's face... not that he'd even have gone.

He hadn't wanted anything to do with that runt, but he'd been forced to care for the brat regardless. He might have not minded, as much, if it had been a boy, then he might've had someone to finally get him to use the baseball bat that was propped up behind his chair gathering dust.

Now that the whining bitch had gone from the house, and it's mother, he could at long last get some god-damn peace and quiet...

A growl escaped his lips as the sound of some tinny voice from somewhere upstairs began calling out.

"Damn bitch," he muttered, slurring the words slightly, "Leavin' the shit's fuckin' crap upstairs,"

The floorboards of his weathered staircase creaked underfoot as he made his way upwards to the room he had been forced to give to the brat.

A book, one of those ones you'd play sound cues when reading from it, was propped up on the wall on the far side of the room.

Shuffling over, the man snatched up the book and looked down at it as if it's mere existence offended him.

He knew what he was going to do with it.

Making his way back down the stairs, he carried the book past the living room and through to the kitchen.

Turning the oven on to full, watching for a moment as the blue flames at the back burst into light as he waited for the heat to build, before returning back to glaring at the book that had interrupted his peace.

Another growl escaped his lips as each obnoxious ring of the landline tore through his joy at getting to burn the little shit's toys, a fitting end as the brat was getting tossed in a big-ass furnace herself.

Stomping back through to the living room, he nearly knocked the charger off the table with the force he yanked the phone free with.

"What!" he barked into the phone, reaching around behind him to mute the television and grab his beer.

"Where are you?"

He held the phone away from his head as he groaned, emptying the last of the can in a single go as the voice of his ex-wife berated him through the phone.

"... said you'd be here, David!"

"Oh, will you quit your yappin'!" David cut across her, "I didn't promise no nothing to be there.

Far as I'm concerned, that shit got what she deserved and no less! I didn't ask for no kid, and I damn didn't want one with you!"

A third growl escaped him as a continual stream of insults flowed through the phone as he turned back to the t.v and un-muted it.

"... in other news, the body of David Scorber was found burnt and mutilated late last night following a house fire that seems to have stemmed from an unattended stove..."

David did the fastest double-take of his life as his head snapped back to the screen.

"... are you even listening to..."

Setting the phone down on the table, cutting her off mid-speech, David took a few ambled steps closer to the television.

The screen had a picture of his face in the upper left-hand corner, and what looked like stock footage of fire-fighters tackling a house-fire. The entire situation was rather… disturbing…

What confused him the most though, was the fact that the usual blonde he so enjoyed watching wasn't on the screen…

It was a kid, a teenager.

Their almost night-sky black hair hung in long strands that pointed every which way, sometimes getting caught on their glasses as they bobbed their head whilst talking about how a fire in the kitchen led to the house becoming a blazing inferno within minutes by spreading to the clutter of trash kept inside from a lack of both decorum and cleaning.

It was only as the teen talked about how his money-pit of a daughter had been cremated earlier that day did he remember what he had been planning to do.

Hurrying through to the kitchen, he fumbled with the knobs of the oven before eventually shutting it down.

Panting, as it had been a long time he had moved that fast, he slowly lurched back through to look at the television.

"... and in other news, the world's smartest man... well, pig, has been discovered.

One David Scorber, only mere seconds ago, realised that one of the dumbest things that you can do is leave an oven unattended when planning to destroy children's playthings...

Bet you think you're a real smart one, huh, Davy?"

David nearly against the wall behind him as the teen on the screen turned and seemed to be looking right... at... him...

"No," his raspy voice muttered quietly to himself, "No, no no... this is... this is just some bad shit I've been drinkin'..."

"Could be a bad drink... or six," the teen on the screen said, scratching his chin, "Though... I do think that there's a much better question to be asked here...

You wanna see a magic trick?"

The teen on the screen leaned a little closer, as if he could fall right through the glass and tumble out onto the unkempt carpet below, and David could see something akin to barely restrained excitement glistening in the harsh blue eyes.

"What do you want?" David snarled at the teen, his eyes darting to the phone on the table.

"Just to ask you a question... try it," the teen smirked, "No, seriously, if you think calling anyone will help, then go for it,"

David glared feebly at the screen, watching as the teen leant back non-nonchalantly in the chair he was presumably sitting upon.

"Fine then," David's gravelly voice made the unimpressive threat just the tiniest bit more believable as he walked around his armchair and picked up the phone and dialled.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" the voice on the other line asked.

"There seems to be some punk messin' with my t.v, hackin' it an' all that, goin' on 'bout how I'm gonna die," he told the person, not breaking eye contact with the teen.

"Very well, sir, we'll have an officer with you shortly to check things out, meanwhile, I'm going to transfer you to our documenter so that he can get a statement in the meantime while you wait, is that alright?"

"That's jus' fine," David's lips curled as he watched the teen's mouth turn into a twitching sneer.

The victorious smirk that had spread across his cheeks quickly turned south, his eyes widening with shock and horror, as he watched the teen pick up a mobile phone, click answer, and bring it to his ear.

"Hello, David, how can I help you?"

The voice echoed through both the speakers from the television and the phone in his hand, though he could feel the latter slowly sliding out of his grip.

Once the phone thudded on the floor, the teen looked at the phone in his hand, shrugged, then turned back to David.

"Huh, guess the call dropped," he shrugged, flipping the phone closed to end the call.

"What do you want?" David asked, fear stretching out his eyes.

"I only want to ask you a question," the teen said, leaning forward, their face arranged into a mock expression of hurt that couldn't quite hide the malevolent smirk on his face.

"What question?" David asked, knowing that there was little choice he had left.

"Do you want to see a magic trick?"

David couldn't bring himself to look away from the screen as the teen leant a little closer to the screen, almost close enough that his face took up the entire picture.

"What do you want?" David asked as he, in a moment of faked bravado, took a step forward.

"Do you want to see a magic trick?" the teen repeated, more forceful this time, more demanding.

"What trick?" David asked, a quiver of fear escaping despite his best attempts.

"A magic trick," the teen smiled happily, "Come on now, a yes is all that's needed for this to be over…

Do you want to see a magic trick?"

Seeing no other way out, the freak probably had someone waiting outside the door if he tried to escape, David gave a growl that was close to feral.

"Fine!" he snarled, "Show me your trick,"

The teen leant forward, a new manic energy shining through his smile.

"Look behind you," he whispered.

David's eyes widened in horror, slowly turning to look behind him, as he kept shooting glances from side to side, not wanting to see what was… behind… him…

Confusion reigned over him as once he had turned around, he was faced with his empty room, armchair, and ashtray.

A nerve began to twitch in David's cheek, his eyes darting around to try and find anything that was out of the ordinary.

Feeling that he was definitely being fucked around with, David began fuming and spun around to yell at the teen for wasting his time…

Only to find that an almost identical copy of the teen was sitting atop his television.

A face-mask with a solid grey bar across the area where the mouth would be covered the lower portion of his face, while a pair of light-blue goggles pushing his hair up and out of his face.

"Ta-da!" the teen cheered while shaking his hands at David, who had fallen backwards into his armchair out of shock, "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Wha… how… what are you?" David gasped, his eyes wide and face gaunt.

"I'm a Djinn," the teen said cheerily, "Call me Isaac,"

Now that David had had a moment to calm himself down, he could take the… Gin's apparel in in a better light.

The hooded jumper he wore hung off him slightly, and the…

His eyes immediately focussed in on the various knives, sorted into sheaths along a leather harness that cross the teen's chest, before darting to the old axe that hung at his side.

"Oh, like my knives?" the teen asked, looking down at the various handles, "Kinda hard to use my magic when you've got those magical fuck-wads that police us like we're cattle for a starving banquet… that's a way too accurate analogy..."

David frowned as he listened to the Gin talk.

"So… why are you here?" he asked it.

"Those fuck-wads I mentioned? They're getting ready to order the main course, and can you guess who's on their chopping block next?" the teen made a mockingly cute face, framing his expression with his hands.

"So… Gin, what do you want?" David asked, his lip curling once more.

"Well, to keep my pulse is a good place to start, but to do that, I can't be found by those wand-waving morons, so… I had a plan," Isaac was glad he was wearing his face-mask because the grin he had on underneath would have been far too telling, "… I followed a ley-line until I found one that intersected another and hid there.

But, nothing is ever that simple.

This house..." he gestured around, "… is built on the crossing point, and I can't live in a place without someone knowing I'm there, a bit like how a vampire can't go into a place without being invited..."

"And you need me to say that you can live here?" David sneered.

"Pretty much, I'd not be doing this, but Charlotte died, so..."

"What do you mean?" David cut across him, his face rapidly going through all the bright shades of red, "You mean that wasted load said you could live here?"

"Every kid wants to hang out with their imaginary friend," Isaac said, holding his hands up, "And it's going to be weird if a forty-year-old man suddenly has a fifteen-year-old looking kid appear randomly, so… I'm going to offer you a deal,"

"What deal?" David asked, thinking of how he could get to the kitchen and get a knife to get rid of the Gin.

"You don't want me here, you didn't want Charlotte here, and Charlotte being dead is going to raise a literal shit-storm with the police, social services, and they're gonna win a court case and charge you with negligence for sure.

So, I'm going to make a deal with you.

I can bring Charlotte back, I can make it so nobody remembers that she died, and I can make it so that Charlotte and her mother move to a place with another ley-line intersection and leave you alone for the rest of your life,"

"And what do I get out of it?" David demanded, "The brat's dead, so I don't have to deal with her and the bitch, I've got my peace and quiet the now, seems like..."

"You've forgotten the part about the police?" Isaac finished his sentence early, "A kid randomly dying, being watched by her alcoholic father, who hated her and didn't want her there… probably not gonna end well for you in court, like I said before,"

David ground his teeth.

"Fine, whatever," he said, anything to get rid of the Gin at this point.

"Alright then," Isaac said happily, ungloving one of his hands, "All we need to do is shake on it,"

David crossed over the room and was about to snatch the Gin's hand, when Isaac pulled his hand out of reach.

"Should probably mention this, but when we shake, my hand's gonna do the whole 'burst into flame to seal a deal' thing, just a heads up," Isaac said as he stretched his fingers.

"Just get this over with," David snapped.

Isaac reached out and shook his hand.

David gasped in pain as blue flames with the occasional spark of green erupted around their hand, searing his skin and causing blisters to bubble forth.

"LET GO!" he screeched, trying to pull his hand free to no avail.

Isaac tightened his grip for a few moments before letting go and watching as David fell backwards and collapsed on the ground, sitting on his knees and cradling his burnt, raw, hand.

"Well, a deal's a deal," Isaac said, hopping down and dusting his untarnished hands off, "So, I'll go play memory-operation on whoever knew Charlotte had died, and she'll be happy playing upstairs with a few toys I'll pop in there,"

David wasn't really listening to what the Gin had been saying, but when he said the runt's name he was about to shout at the kid saying he didn't want her in his house ever again.

But, the Gin had already disappeared in a puff of black smoke, for a moment, David thought that he could see a tall figure of monochromatic black and white behind him, but everything was gone before he had gotten a good enough look.

Now that it was just him again… David began to wonder what had really happened…

There wasn't any evidence that the kid had been there, beyond his agonisingly sore hand, and it could easily be explained as having burnt himself on the stove after nearly blacking out due to his beer…

Then the laughing came…

The sound of a small child gleefully playing floated downstairs and David could feel his blood run cold.

It couldn't be… it couldn't… could it be…

He didn't want to know…

He didn't want to look…

He didn't want to be slowly walking up the stairs, but that didn't mean his overwhelming sense of curiosity kept him moving one leg after the other.

Stopping outside the stained door of the room he had been forced to give up, the laughter seemed…

David sharply shook his head, as if this was all one bad dream and he would wake on his chair having spilt his drink…

Yeah, that was it… this was all one bad dream… so what did it matter that he was opening the door, it was just a dream, after all…


The door slowly swung open, the old hinges creaking from years of dirt build-up, and David looked into the room.

Lying down on the ground was… Charlotte…

His spawn was lying there, legs crossed and waving in the air, as she scribbled away at one of those drawing books he had been forced to get her last Christmas.


David's blood seemed to chill as Charlotte turned around and looked at him.

Her rotten flesh was pock-marked skin seemed to go all the way to the bone in various parts, a black sludge dripped from several of them, as if her blood had been replaced by the world's darkest blackberry jam, and her eyes looked as if they had been built from various piles of spider webs.

"Daddy!" Charlotte gurgled happily, "You came back!"

Nearly falling over in his haste, David scrambled away from the door before reaching for a discarded pair of trousers. Wrestling with them to take the belt off of them, he fastened the loop around the handle before tying it off against the bannister of the stairs.

The door shook as Charlotte tried to pull the door open, the frame shaking as it protested being strained in such a way, as David almost smashed into the front door as he rushed back down the stairs.

"GIN!" he bellowed, hoping he could get the freak's attention, "GIN!"

"You called?" a cheeky voice asked.

The Gin re-appeared in the doorway of his kitchen, eating an apple, and looking bored.

"THE HELL IS THAT THING?" David screeched at him, gesturing up the stairs towards where the monster of his daughter was.

"You're daughter," Isaac said, "Oh… wait, did you think that something dead for the better part of two weeks would be the same as you left it?"

David's face quickly turned the shade of well-ripened tomatoes.

"You lied to me!" he hissed at him, "You said she'd be gone and away! Denise isn't going to want to take a thing that looks like an Evil Dead extra into her house! It's an abomination!"

All while David had been speaking, Isaac was getting bored.

True, it wasn't likely that he'd get brought along for a kill for a while, but he'd had his fun toying with this moron and he was really getting on his nerves.

"So… I take it you want to cancel our deal?" Isaac asked him.

"YES! I WANT TO GET RID OF YOU! THAT BITCH! HER MOTHER! ALL OF YOU!" David screamed so hard Isaac thought that he'd throw up one of his lungs.

"Well… that's a problem..." Isaac sucked in air through his teeth, "You see, a Djinn deal can't be broken… that easily…

You see this?" he fished out a ball of his pocket.

Although Isaac knew what it was, to David, it looked like a small cage around the size of a tennis ball.

Gold plates held in place by strips of silver dangled from a short-chain.

"It's basically what passes for our… well, let's say life-support.

Our heart's beat, lungs breath, and eyes blink, but what lets us live is essentially this.

A Djinn can't go back on a deal, magic won't let us, but if you hold this, then our will to live can let us break a deal.

I'll send little Charlotte back to whatever circus of the afterlife she comes from, and you can go on your way… if, and only if, you can get this from me," Isaac let the small ball wave slightly on its chain.

"So give it to me!" David demanded, "Just get this over with,"

"Not that simple," Isaac smirked, "You gotta take it from me,"

Isaac's eyes met David's as he put the ball back in his pocket before taking out the hunting knife Jeff had given him.

A tense moment passed, neither of them blinking, looking away, or moving.

Rolling his eyes, Isaac slowly turned to face away from David.

"Well, if you're not wanting to get out of it that badly, then I'll just go..."

His smirk renewed itself, splitting his gums apart as fast as one could blink, as he heard the rush of David's footsteps thud towards him.

The baseball bat was raised high above his head, ready to swing down, but a quick turn let him block it, even chip out a large chunk, with the knife.

Twisting it around, David surprisingly managed to hold on to the handle as Isaac deflected his attack before planting a foot squarely on his gut and kicking him away further into the living room.

By the time that David had recovered, Isaac had landed a clean swipe against his burnt hand, splitting the cracked skin open and digging it in further along his arm.

David's howl of pain only caused Isaac's grin to widen further until it was manic in proportion.

Pushing him further back, Isaac slammed David's body against the window before yanking the knife out, taking as much skin with it, and prepared to see just how stringy his intestines were, when David's fist connected with his jaw.

The force caused him to stumble backwards, just holding onto the hilt of the knife as his kick was returned with vigour.

A roar of pain bellowed through the rooms as David charged Isaac again, swinging the bat around madly and smashing the t.v, a lamp, and the ceiling light, before Isaac grabbed it and yanked it free from him.

His breath was knocked out of him as all of David's weight fell against him, following him pulling the bat off of him, and he was flattened against the floor beneath the foul stench of the unwashed man, stale beer, and tobacco.

David's elbow pinned him on the floor as he felt the man's un-burnt hand rummaging against his hoodie pockets.

"HA!" David jeered, waving the ball in his face before getting up, making sure to stamp on his leg as he did so, "I got it!"

Isaac took the chance to catch his breath, glad to have somewhat fresh air filling his sinuses once more.

"Very well," Isaac said, pulling himself up into a sitting position to rest against a cabinet in the kitchen and putting the knife back in it's sheath, "What do you want me to do?"

"Get rid of the bitch!" David growled at him, holding the ball tightly in front of him, "And get the Hell out of my house!"


Isaac stood up, pulling out a small metal tube with a red button on the top out of his other pocket.

"… you..."

David and his eyes met once again, seething hatred from David and delight in Isaac's.

"… wish,"

He slammed his other hand down on the button.

The ball blew outwards in a large ball of fire, engulfing the living room and David in a matter of seconds.

Isaac himself would have been caught in the wave of fire, had he not rolled out of the way into the little hollow where the garden door was.

David's screams grew louder and more pain-filled as the flames stuck to everything they could, chair, wall, floor, ceiling, clothing and skin.

He had fallen to his knees by the time that Isaac returned to the room, the fire reflected in his goggles as he let the handle of his axe slid down until he had a proper grip on it.

The burnt husk of David turned to look up at him, skin as raw as his hand had been and burnt beyond healing.

"Back-yard napalm packs a pretty punch, don't it?" Isaac asked, looking down at David's trembling body.

David's cracked and torn lips opened, tearing his skin further still, as he tried to speak.

But before a single whimper or plea could escape him, Isaac swung the broad face of the axe into his head, knocking him down onto all fours.

Raising the axe above his head, Isaac looked down at David one last time.

"Show's over,"

Slamming the axe down on his neck, David's head just barely stayed on, a single strand of muscle even smaller than the one that held Nearly-Headless Nick's head on, stretched as David's lifeless body crumpled onto the ground.

A creaking overhead heralded the ceiling giving way.

"Welp," Isaac yelped, "Time to go,"

Running back into the living room, Isaac picked up the heavy knife block he had debated whether to smash into David's head earlier, and threw it as hard as he could at the big window above the kitchen sink before following after it with haste.

He barely got out through the smashed opening before flames bellowed out, strengthened by the sudden influx of air.

Getting up from his roll on the unkempt grass, Isaac watched as the flames got higher and hotter, just able to make out the ceiling of the living room giving out and collapsing in on itself.

A low whistle yanked his attention away from his devouring inferno to the clown and small child standing in the garden and clapping.

"Not bad, see you haven't lost your touch," Laughing Jack nodded his approval, "Surprised you toyed with him for that long,"

"Probably not gonna get a chance to get out like this for a while," Isaac pointed out, "Might as well have some fun with it,"

Charlotte waddled over to him, wanting to get picked up so she could see the fire better. To which Isaac gladly helped, picking her up and popping her on his shoulders.

"And you can't fault a guy for wanting to have some fun," L.J said, pulling a bag of marshmallows out of his pocket and producing two long poles from the other.

After toasting the better half of the contents of the bag, L.J admitted that he'd probably have to get Isaac back to Hogwarts sooner than later.

Though, he did let Isaac grab a quick shower at The Carnival beforehand.


L.J's Carnival.

Scrubbing his hair furiously, Isaac stepped out of the bathroom and into a room he hadn't been too fairly often in all his visits to The Carnival.

L.J's tent.

That was, to say, what one could have assumed to have been where L.J had lived before joining The Slenderman at The Mansion.

The tent itself was hardly any different to the others dotted around The Carnival on the outside…

But, on the inside, it was clear that it stretched higher than it should have and didn't have any of the sway of creaks that the others did.

It also had modern lighting, functional plumbing, and a very comfortable rug, though that last one wasn't too hard to find.

His change of pyjamas had been lain out on the plush couch, yet another amenity not commonly found in tents, but he wasn't complaining, the thing was damn comfy.

As Isaac was mid-change when he felt the odd sensation that came with being watched by someone you hadn't noticed.

"Had fun?" Ben asked, leaning against the frame of the door…

Isaac would have had a quicker time listing what you did find in tents that were in L.J's tent rather than everything you normally didn't…

… and looking at him with a wide, although blushed-red, smile.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Isaac said, his own grin growing as he pulled his shirt on before getting knocked onto the couch.

Ben let out a brief yelp as L.J practically threw him onto the couch.

"I'll give the two of you an hour, have fun,"

Both Isaac and Ben blushed at the sing-song tone L.J used before disappearing.

"So, what's been going on while I've been away?" Isaac and Ben both asked at the same time.

"Jinx!" Ben cried, "You first,"

Isaac rolled his eyes, tugging Ben closer as he did so.

"Well, where should I start...


Wednesday morning.

The slow start to the equally dull day was about to have its monotonous ways broken very shortly.

Isaac had just plodded his way into The Great Hall, a yawn stifled by his sleeve, as he sat down opposite his bushy-haired friend and poured himself a generous amount of cereal.

"Anything interesting in the… in the…" another yawn broke through, causing him to break off, "… interesting in the paper this time?" he asked Hermione.

"Yes," she whispered, passing it over to him, "Take a look at this!" she urged quietly.


~Last night, a whistle-blower from within The Ministry of Magic has confirmed that a recent count of the Dementors that are employed to guard the nigh-inescapable fortress reported that a minimum of two Dementors were missing!~

~The Ministry worker, who's name shall be struck from any of our articles or records, at their own request, has brought proof that a recent survey within the prison has confirmed that the number of Dementors that are expected to be found on the remote island was less than the count taken just after the New Year!~

~This revelation will undoubtedly raise many questions within the community at large about the promises from Minister Fudge about the updates to Azkaban following Sirius Black's escape just over two years ago.~

The rest of the paper went on about how the writer expected the public to react to the reveal of the article as well as Fudge's promises to the Wizarding world and, sure enough, when looking around the Great Hall many were whispering amongst each other about this morning's newspaper.

Meanwhile, at the far end of the room, Hogwart's newest Professor was looking over the paper with pursed lips and a sour look on her face as though she had been forced to swallow a peeled lemon whole after going a day with nary a drop of water.

The rest of breakfast was incredibly dull in comparison to that.

Classes that morning were filled with whispers about the situation at Azkaban, and the rumour was that Umbridge was giving anyone who so much as muttered it in her class detention.

During the lunch break, Hermione and Isaac were heading off to the Library to get a head start on homework and read to read the book about defensive magic Umbridge had them using.

"I don't think she'll have been particularly happy about this," Hermione said, adjusting her bag strap as they walked down the corridor.

How Umbridge was reacting had been a point of debate for nearly everyone, with rumours like the one from before ranging to her performing 'Obliviate' on anyone that brought it up.

Isaac, meanwhile, was too busy thinking about the fun he would be having that up and coming Saturday.

"She can't do anything about The Daily Prophet printing the article, but she's definitely going to try and stop people talking about it whenever she can..."

Hermione broke off with a scoff.

"Hopefully she'll be too busy stopping people talking about it to actually teach us any of the trot she calls 'Defensive Magic'..."

Just as they rounded the corner, they were met with the squat witch herself.

Hermione immediately went pink in the face, her eyes wide as she looked down at the pink-clad Professor.

"Mrs Granger, I had hoped that the deduction of points was enough," Umbridge began before either of them could speak, "But if this continuous behaviour has proven anything, it's that tougher punishments are needed.

Detention, my office, tomorrow, seven o'clock,"

Casting one last glance at Isaac, she bustled away and Isaac could have sworn she had looked at him with loathing regret.

Regret for what, however?

He didn't care.

"You alright?" Isaac asked her, leaning forward to see around the mass of hair.

Hermione didn't answer him, opting to continue on their path towards The Library.

When they got there, she sat in silence long enough for Isaac to go off and find a few books on Runes and modifying them.

"Look, it's not your first detention, and you know she's just pissed off at the fact people are questioning those Ministry morons," Isaac told her twelve minutes into her self-imposed vow of silence, "And she can't do anything really horrible to you..."

He paused to give Hermione a moment to speak, but, when she didn't take the chance to say anything, Isaac sighed and continued.

"... plus, if she really does anything of high-degree bitchiness, then I'll give L.J a ring and have enough military-grade tear gas to choke Cthulu out pumped into her bedroom before you can say..."

"Where would he even get military-grade tear gas?" Hermione asked, choking on her brief chuckle as she turned to look at him, wiping away some of the excess water in her eyes.

"... that,"



For reference to non-English speakers, "Djinn" and "Gin" are pronounced the same in English.

(X) Review (X)



Eh, who do you like more, and it's for them?

It's an idea so far, as I'm still figuring out the best way to do it.

Don't apologise for sharing an idea, I rely on readers for ideas all the time.

(X) Review (X)



(X) Review (X)



Yeah, Dumbledore is going to die before the story ends, I just need to figure out how to do it.

Thanks, glad that you love it.

(X) Review (X)


I am pleased with your eagerness.

I think it's probably a dumb idea, whatever he does.

(X) Review (X)


He just keeps a decent supply of biscuits on hand because he gets peckish.

I don't want to burn out or abandon this, nor do I want to go on a hiatus, I want to get this out with regular uploads, even if it does take a bit longer.

(X) Review (X)


I love morbid knowledge.

Eh, it's just a Mechanical Instinct to recommend them on our Little Horror Story.

That's the only two I can remember off the top of my head that I can use when talking about the story.

That is her backstory. I went on Pottermore to find stuff about her and that fitted right in.

That book is a disgrace, yes.

Hermione and books is a very easy subject for bets.

Isaac doesn't know what exactly she's doing, just that it's not something he's interested in.

I definitely want to write more about the student's perspectives of Isaac.

Dumbledore does run his school, he just wants to defeat a Dark Lord by making a student his sacrificial pawn.

Bear in mind, Dumbledore is a wizard, he will definitely know a fair few things to make life a bit harder when escaping.

A boat? That doesn't work when in reverse?

Well, there's no going back on that purchase.

(X) Review (X)

Randomperson (Guest);

Isaac can't hear you, he's wearing tide pods.

Yes, I love annoying people with outdated things.

I believe I've read Time Turned Back, but I'll check the other two out.

(X) Review (X)



I am too, and I know what's coming!

I actually don't... my brain isn't working at...

'begins to buffer'

(X) Review (X)


Where you leaving to go to?

I think you'd be the least of Dumbledore's problems.

He gonna have one pissed off flaming murder boi after him.

(X) Review (X)



Oh yes.

(X) Review (X)

Jaybird (Guest);


'ignores the Yuri On Ice poster hanging on my wall'

(X) Review (X)

Matt (Guest);

He better not cry.

He better not shout, I'm telling you why.

Isaac's plotting murder, tonight!

(X) Review (X)


I've just realised, your name sounds like an aeroplane call sign.

Maybe not this time, but definitely... eventually...

(X) Review (X)

Not A Criminal;

The Order is dumb.

If I finish the story on 99 chapters, then I'm gonna be happy and cackle like a witch.

(X) Review (X)


I will make a bunch of Wil-E-Coyote styled attempts on EXTRAS at some point of that.

(X) Review (X)

FANactic Writer;

Life is going a bit downhill for me too.

Let go from work because 'References were unable to be contacted', even though one is a family friend who swears that he hadn't been contacted.

Ended things with my boyfriend, our relationship had been falling apart for a while and things weren't going to get any better.

On the plus sides, I did have a lovely time on a day trip to Burntisland.

Found a few Hag Stones, a few things for Warhammer details, visited a lovely shop called The Green Witch. All in all, a very good day.

I haven't tried DDR for ages, and I think I'm still terrible at it.

I really want to do a chapter where Isaac and Voldemort are forced to talk to one another, and Isaac proves that he'd be a much better Dark Lord if he could be bothered before snapping his neck and going to snuggle with Ben.

Don't worry about Isaac, he's got a biscuit.

I should write an Assassin AU for these guys, adding it to the list...

I'm glad that you liked Umbridge's first class.

Dumble and Umbridge, the perfect duo of assholery.

Yes, Ben better be careful.

(X) Review (X)


I will try and make Dumbledore's death as memorable as possible.

(X) Review (X)


Being an adult sucks!

Glad you liked it.

(X) Review (X)

Matt the Hedgehog Android;

Yes, Ben, Ben be in deep doo-doo.

Dumbledore is Arse, yes.

(X) Review (X)

Anonymous Fan (Guest);

Dumbledore is being an idiot, and I love it when they doom themselves.

Awesome, let me know when you finally make an account.

Try underscores '_' when separating things if the name is taken, or numbers as I've apparently got a plane that... actually... a plane named 'Phoenix' isn't exactly the most reassuring thing out there...

If I can, she will.

(X) Review (X)


Dumbledore is gonna have one Hell of a time if he does try and get Ben.

The fit has definitely hit the shan.

Glad you liked it, hope you like this one too.

(X) Review (X)

Sly the gratsulover117;

If I can't work it into the story, then it'll be an EXTRAS.

(X) Review (X)

Gia Bean;


I'm assuming you're talking about L.J teasing Jeff?

If not, you'll have to specify.

It's alright, I've had many a messed up review.

I'm glad that you liked it, and I hope that you like this one as well.

Dumbledore is going to regret a large amount of this.

(X) Review (X)




I hate those two words.

I detest those words.

I'm fairly certain that I overused them in one chapter just because I felt like I needed to show I can use them properly.

(X) Review (X)




Thanks, if it hasn't been changed, then I'll have fixed it.


Thanks, I think I'll go with that one.

(X) Review (X)




Thank you, hopefully, I will be able to get a bit more traction in the future.

You're welcome.

(X) Review (X)



Yeah, I have no idea how that's going to go down.

I'm going to have a lot of fun, which-ever way I write it.

(X) Review (X)



Can you say that?

Eh, it's fine, I can't really judge anyone for censorship, I have failed the art.

Dumbledore's body won't even be in big enough pieces to hide.

Yeah, definitely would make an interesting AU idea.

If L.J turns up to teach, I don't think there'd be a single one who wouldn't remember that class...

Trust me, it's going to be Hell.

I really want to do a story that revolves around music, not like the ones that take a song and write something that'd go with the themes and tone, but songs are an integral part of the story and events.

I've seen the Umbridge version, respect to getting that done so well.

OI! I'm under 30! But, yeah, I can't really disagree...

(X) Review (X)

Guest (Guest);

I hope this wasn't too late, been a bit busy.

(X) Review (X)

I'd like to thank everyone who gave their support in the reviews on the apology letter, I'm not spending time putting the responses to them all in this one, and if it turns out that I got reviews on other chapters while I was recovering this then I'll answer them in the next one.

Now, there's a bit that definitely looks weird when compared to everything else, but I've got everything thought out so trust me on it, an answer will come in due course.

Writing things has been getting tougher, and since I've been accepted into a college course I've wanted to do for a while, I'm hoping that it'll get my creativity going once again since my original weekly update streak came when I had another full-time course going on as well.

I've also had a few more ideas for EXTRAS stories so there might by updates in those in the semi-near future since I'll try writing multiple things at once to try and jump-start my mind again.

I've set the end-point of the story for the same date as it was first uploaded, and I hope that I'll be able to have enough chapters by that point for my once-a-week plan to have seemed true.

So, assuming that my sanity hasn't dissolved by the time I upload the next chapter, I'll see you all then.



Ticci Toby – Kastoway.

Masky / Hoodie / The Operator – Marble Hornets.

Eyeless Jack – Kiki H.

Laughing Jack – Snuffbomb.

Jeff the Killer – BanninK.

Ben Drowned – Jadusable.

Sally – Kiki H.

Slenderman – Victor Surge.

Smile dog – God knows.

Puppeteer – BleedingHeartworks.

Bloody Painter – Delucat.

Kagekao & Room 42 (Zippers & Sir Pebbles The Third) – Jinbeizamezama.

Homicidal Liu – Vampirenote13.

Jason the ToyMaker – Krisantyl.

Jane the Killer – AngryDogDesigns.

Clockwork – soffbois - According to reader research.

Candy Pop and Candy Cane – XXDirtyNightClownsXX.

Pianist – jill0mccloud.

The Pianist – This story didn't have a credit if anyone knows then please tell me so I can fix this.

Pokemon Dead Channel – star-byte. (BRVR's story)

The Good Doctor Locklear – Madame Macabre - check out her youtube channel, really recommend the music!

Feel free to leave a suggestion for stories to read, I've enjoyed the ones that have been sent in already, and I'm dying for more!