Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter, so don't sue me!

An army of Monsters, hellish creatures and nightmarish demons, wicked humans and one man that is not quite a man, but a demon.

Something that would make an ordinary, sane person quake with fear.

But I don't. I'm not ordinary, and not sane enough to run away.

Monsters have always been a part of my life. A monster killed my parents. That same monster tried to kill me and regain his strength ten years later. Monsters have always tried to kill me.

But I fought them, and I fight them still. It is my Destiny.

I'm what Monsters fear. I'm their Monster.

My name is Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived.

After Sirius died, I was a more than a little depressed. But after a few bitter self-reflections and talks to Mad-Eye, I stopped being sad, and started being mad.

I vowed that Bellatrix, Voldemort, and all those would who stand with the Dark Wanker would die.

And that I would kill them.

This is how I became what Monsters fear. I sharpened my proverbial claws, became as dangerous as any monster and then even more dangerous than a monster, through training and learning and fighting.

On Halloween, 1996, I killed my first Death Eater. Bellatrix. She was participating in an attack, and I cornered her and cursed her with so many dangerous and lethal hexes that it was like Pettigrew's supposed murder all over again to some people. But I, unlike Wormtail, was not faking.

The biggest bit of her they found was a piece of her ear.

I must have missed that.


Enough self-recrimination. I'm describing how I came to be the Monster for Monsters. Funny title, huh?

Better than the bloody Boy-Who-Fricken-Lived-But-Lost-Everything. Well, it's not my real title, but what do you want? I'm in the middle of reflecting on my piece of shite life here!

Anyways, the rest of the year passed quickly, what with me managing to evade Dumbledore (like that's any different) and kill some Death Eaters when I could. Vigilante justice may be illegal, but damn it makes for good stress relief!

One thing that bugged me was how horrified Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and everyone else got so horrified at what I did. The Death Eaters were dead, weren't they? Who cares if I was a bit... overzealous with my curses. I got the job done!

Also, I kept lashing out at everyone, and although Ginny always put me back in my place, I kept feeling an irrational anger at everyone. But I realized of course, that it was Voldemort.

It had to be.

After all, I am the One who Hunts Monsters, bringing Justice and eventual Peace to the world. Voldemort had to be angry with me, and was influencing me through our connection, our blood, the scar.

I hate that scar.

Hate it for what it represents.

The Prophecy. The one that hangs over my head.

The one that drives me to hunt monsters.

I admit, sometimes it is fun and satisfying to bring Justice, but it is a forced destiny.

Anyhow, back to my irrational anger that Voldemort was inducing. Occulemency, my mental walls, weren't working anymore, for some reason, so I just tried to explain to everyone that I was under a lot of stress and in private, to my closest friends, that Voldemort was sending anger to me.

It had to be.

So, sixth year passed, and I kept feeling as though Voldemort's anger was flowing through me, making me hate and lash out at people.

I didn't mind it so much when I lashed out at the Dursleys, of course. Heck, I rather welcomed it.

It's hilarious to see a four hundred pound man shaking in fear of his seventeen-year old nephew that is half his weight.

Enough self-reflection. It appears Tom's a bit peeved that I'm looking up at the sky, all bored and stuff.

It's his own damn fault!

Maybe if he'd just walk a teensy little bit faster, we could get this Prophecy deal done.

Sod it. I'm not waiting for him to come to me. I'll get him myself.

Tom looks a lot like the Devil, if you think about it. All snake-like, with burning red eyes and pale skin. And that hissing thing. Actually, that makes him sound more like some species of albino snake.


Anyhow, he's nearly done. Most of his limbs are gone, his left arm, half his right leg, his entire left leg, part of his ear, you know, just the standard mutilation tactics.

Some people are looking at me funny.

Probably cause old Tom is pleading for mercy, quite pitifully I might add.

And yet he still has enough power to influence my anger.

He's playing possum on me, is he? I'll show him.

Now there are terrified gasps all around.

Oh come on people! Its not like old Tom here has never used a Cruciatus Curse on me before! Turnabout is fair play!

Jeez. Even Dumbledore's looking at me, and trying to urge me to finish it.


I won't let him go easily. Not as long as he keeps putting anger in my scar, not until he's paid me back, and all others in blood for what he's done.

That is what I do.

I am the Monster for Monsters, after all.

After ten minutes, Tom's as loony as Luna. Hey, that kind of rhymes! Its pretty funny, you know, seeing the supposed Dark Lord going on about purple muffins and pink rainbows.

Lets put it this way. If Tom's mind was a house, I've taken the furniture, the carpet, the drapes, and I'm not giving him the deposit back.

And yet, with his mind as burnt as Dudley's sad attempts to cook, he can still send me even more anger to my scar!

Damn him!

Another ten minutes of Crucio, and the anger has only increased! Tom could have killed himself with those spasms, but his amputated limbs aren't letting him do much. But he can still send me anger.

Okay, I've had enough. He's going to die!

I'm not going to use the Killing Curse yet though. I funnel all my anger into a powerful Explosion Spell, and blast him with it.

Oops. I think I used too much, seeing as how I sent Tom's smoking body straight into one of the breached walls of Hogwarts, only not into an opening. And then the force of my spell collapses the rest of the wall.

Oh well, it sealed that Monster in a rock tomb, didn't it?

But there's still anger in me. Lots of it.


Tom must still be alive!

I rush over there, glaring at the rock pile.

As I raise my wand to blow those rocks and Tom into the deepest ring of Hell, Dumbledore calls out, fearful and hesitant. "Harry, he's already dead! You've won!"

I stop.


But how can that be?

Tom's still sending me anger...

But then it hits me, like a titan rising up from Tartarus, what is wrong.

I realized at last the true Horror.

I had walled myself in with the true Monster, and it had devoured me long ago.

AN: English class is a nice idea breeding ground, especially when you're studying Poe. The house reference is from Red vs Blue. Thanks for reading and please review!