So I thought I'd let you all in on my story plot.
I know it seems to be winding up to the end of the story but it will only be the end of Part 1. I wouldn't have introduced all these characters and wonderful plots without a little foresight. I will be needing them later. From Seren to Kian to Dudley to Se'ir. Harry will be going to Hogwarts. In fact, as astonishing as it might seem, all that I've written so far is character development.
As in: The Beginning. There are about two more chapters left of Part 1? Then chapter 16 I assume will start Part 2. Don't ask me how many parts there will be as I don't know.
So please get off my tail about how miserable I've made him. I've yet to even start. Just wait until the scene I've been plotting since I wrote the first chapter.
I've taken some things word for word from a website. Please don't sue. I'm just a fanfiction writer.
Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "Truth is beautiful, without doubt, but so are lies." Kiinn agreed with him to some extent. Lies were beautiful. If you had the imagination you could create the prettiest picture and spin it into a good story. Beauty attracted people as nearly every race would attest. People would believe much that was wrapped up in sunlight and sweetness.
But the truth is rarely beautiful. It's the reason people tell lies. The truth is often ugly and painful. Lies covered up the ugliness and ignored the fangs that would strike the moment acknowledged. Kiinn believed if everyone were honest most would be ugly and miserable. The rest would be dead.
His father was an ugly miserable man. Not his adopted fathers; but his biological one. Elan Merat Crowe was a Lord of a small clan that kept to itself and never grew very large. It died off when Kiinn was a child and Hylaarr knew very little of what became of its members.
Lord Crowe was a hard man. He ruled with an iron fist and didn't suffer the foolish, incompetent, or stupid. He didn't suffer the weak either. Everyone in his clan was strong. Everyone followed his orders and dared not disobey. He killed for the least infraction. Everyone in his clan was a warrior. He was forced to be in constant conflict with someone at any given time in order to control them.
Kiinn first killed someone when he was four.
When Kiinn was six Lord Elan took him to the site of his first victory. It was a small field covered in flowers green grass. The sun had been shining very brilliantly and there had been little breeze. To this day Kiinn could close his eyes and see the scene exactly as it had been. It had been beautiful.
"That is not beauty, boy." His father had stared at the field with haunted eyes. "Its a lie. Beneath the grass and English daises lies the army of Lord Merat of the Isis clan. He was weak, although his magic was strong. Now he his dead as are his followers. Vampires, each a thousand years old, lie here. Their bones have crumbled to dust and now feed the beauty that lives."
With a wave of his Will he had plucked the nearest daisy. With steady hands he had handed it to Kiinn who took it gently. The flower looked quite harmless. It was small and pink. An innocent wild flower. With a snap of his Will Lord Elan turned it to ashes.
"Beauty is fleeting. Remember that, boy! Do you see the sun? It will set. Think the day is perfect boy? Think again. Without any breeze an enemy could creep up on us and kill us before we could smell him. Do you like the view before you?" He had gripped his hand on his walking stick until his knuckles were white. "I see nothing but the dead. They lie before me, mountains of bodies swimming in pools of blood."
His father had abruptly left him there, drifting away into the shadows. Kiinn hadn't known how to shadow walk yet.
He had heard Lord Elan's words but had disagreed. Death and life were a circle. The dead fed the living until the living died. And the day was beautiful. The night was beautiful as well. He hadn't thought it a lie at all. Just history.
But his father's word stuck in his head throughout his life. They had sparked his studied into the old ways. How could a man be weak when his magic was strong? They made him a suspicious man. If his father had been wrong who else was? If his father had been right everyone was a liar.
Everyone was a liar but Kiinn believe the world was better off for it. Lies were beautiful. The truth wasn't. There were some exceptions to the rule but for the most part that held true throughout his life.
Mark Twain said, "A man's private though can never be a lie; what he thinks, is to him the truth, always." Kiinn also agreed with that to some extent. It was very true but it forgot to include the truth that men lie to themselves. Or a man might be able to see both sides of an argument and be unable to make up his mind.
On the subject of Harry Kiinn thought that he believed a lot of what he thought of as truth but not everything. It was hard to know for sure. Kiinn wouldn't intrude on the boy's thoughts although he could. Despite that courtesy he knew a lot of what Harry thought by observation.
The boy lied a lot.
He claimed his parents died years ago; killed by vampires, yet he had vampire lineage. Admittedly that one might be true, as other some vampires didn't approve of half bloods, and might have targeted his family out of prejudice but he didn't act like a half blood vampire or even one raised by half blood vampires. He didn't even act like the Mi. The Mortal Immoral.
He claimed to hate vampires which he obviously didn't. He spun a tale about an orphanage which soon turned to a runaway on the streets to living with his aunt and uncle who miraculously discover him and take him home. And the explanations for the various, serious, wounds he came to Crescent bearing all fell flat.
"A liar should have a good memory," said Quintilian. Harry had a good one but it wasn't exceptional. He made mistakes.
The subject of Harry's magic was one that Kiinn had discussed with his mate at length. Harry seemed to hate his magic. Osset're's attempt to teach Harry illusion confirmed it. Harry loved magic when Osset're did it but when the subject of doing it himself came up he faltered and made excuses. He did use him magic to bring him here, whether it was Drifting, Shadow Walking or what have you but Kiinn had begun to suspect it was involuntary. Actually Osset're suspected and told Kiinn about it.
But it was the ghost of Harry that frightened Kiinn. When Osset're had joined him fighting against the daemons, whispering that Harry had gone back, he had been relieved. Without his mate he hadn't been sure he could have held off against such an attack. When he saw the boy standing in the middle of a battle he had used a curse that he dearly hoped Osset're would never ask to be translated. And when his hand passed right through the boy; he had been so surprised he hadn't let himself react.
The boy later confessed that he only came to Crescent in spirit. That had set Kiinn's mind to work overtime. A dozen suspicions had been thought up and discarded. It always came back to how powerful the boy was. How could a child be over looked and let to suffer what he had with no one the wiser. The boy left body on a regular basis and no one noticed? That was impossible. Someone had to know.
That sparked a million different theories.
"Perhaps his parents are alive?" Osset're had mused aloud. "Perhaps they've been hiding him all these years from any magical community in some far away realm and he's been using Crescent as an escape? Perhaps he has a twin and his twin is some sort of Saviour and he's been shunted off to the side although he's the real Saviour! Or perhaps he's a murderer. He lost control of his magic, perhaps as a young child, killed someone and they threw him in prison."
Kiinn had tried to shut out his mate's voice but once the elven vampire started it was hard to get him to stop.
"Do you think he's a prince or a king? Perhaps he's from the future. Or he lives in the future now and when he comes back he is a ghost. Or do you think he's from the past? Is his name really Harry? Perhaps he was kidnapped from his parents and now lives with a dark sorcerer who keeps him locked up in the basement." Osset're began to get into his story his hands started to wave wildly. "Perhaps the dark sorcerer is jealous of his power and has been trying to steal it away all these years but hasn't managed it yet as Harry is so powerful!" Osset're huffed in frustration and started muttering to himself. "Never mind. Thats a crap theory. How would you explain the vampire lineage?"
Kiinn hadn't been able to do anything but listen to his mate. One thing his mate had said sparked a theory. Using Crescent as an escape sounded very plausible. Especially if the boy did it unconsciously. And about the vampire lineage. Perhaps his guardians hated vampires? That would explain the abuse. And why he came to Crescent.
Suddenly Osset're had gasped. Kiinn's head has snapped up in an instant but there was nothing there. He turned to his mate in annoyance but Osset're was frozen in place with a brilliant look on his face.
"If Harry has vampire somewhere in his lineage wouldn't he speak Nin?"
That remark had sparked Kiinn's plot to uncover all of Harry's lies.
It wasn't hard to find out he spoke Nin. An offhand comment to Osset're that was designed to make Harry laugh was all it took. He made sure to hide it inside of a normal conversation. Harry laughed right on cue. He never even noticed. His first mistake.
Yesterday Kiinn and Osset're plotted more.
"He still flinches, Hylaarr."
Kiinn had frowned but didn't answer. His thoughts had been speeding though his mind faster than he could keep up and he had been worried if he stopped processing them he'd miss the one idea that would work.
"I'm tired of his lies. Hylaarr." Damn there went the thought he'd been trying to grab. " Hylaarr!"
Kiinn turned to his mate and raised his eyebrow in annoyance. "What do you propose?"
Osset're flushed at the gentle rebuke and took his time in answering. Kiinn had waited patiently. Osset're did his best plotting when he took his time. Finally his mate nodded and began.
"The truth is painful. Its ugly and it hurts to admit," His violet eyes tared at nothing and not even his magic was visible. "But sometimes its necessary." His mate smelled of determination and worry. Osset're took a deep breath. "I think we need to tell him the truth."
Kiinn had thought about it a moment before nodding his approval. The idea grew on him as they started planning. The boy lied to himself much to much. He no doubt told so many lies he was starting to believe them. Beautiful lies created as self defense.
It was time they revealed the truth, both to Harry and to themselves.
Harry had developed a routine. He came each evening just after dinner. They would spend it directly in front of the windows and watch the summer sunset in silence as it sunk below the Grampian Mountain range. Harry was fond of the mountains and loved the time they spent together everyday.
Instead of waiting for him by the windows Kiinn had positioned them on their bed with the curtains drawn. Long before Harry was set to arrive they started. Osset're could talk for hours, especially about Harry. Luckily he didn't have to Harry was early.
"Is it wrong that I hope he's unhappy with them?" Osset're sighed.
"Yes." Kiinn forced himself to show little emotion. Osset're was much better at acting. Kiinn heard when Harry came it and he was . . . restless.
Osset're sighed again. "I am serious Hylaarr. We asked him to live with us first. It seems unfair to me that they get him."
"Life is unfair, Osset're." Hylaarr yawned and listened for Harry's breath.
"I don't like them. His relatives I mean. I think he'd be much better off with us."
Kiinn glared at his mate. "Osset're." Of course Osset're would use every moment he could to announce his desires. Kiinn just hoped it didn't scare the boy off. "He's human, has living relatives, and seems happy. Let it go."
Harry sighed and Kiinn had to hold his breath to keep himself from reacting. He let it out in a yawn.
"Have you thought about, you know, finding him?"
Kiinn looked at Osset're. His mate was serious. Kiinn smiled at his mate letting him know he didn't mean his next words.
"Osset're we are not spying on Harry."
Osset're bit his lip to keep himself from bursting at Harry's sigh of disappointment. Kiinn sniffed the air. Yes it was disappointment.
"He wouldn't have to know. I could make us invisible and we'd, you know, observe. Just to make sure he's happy."
"No." Kiinn leaned over and kissed his mate softly.
"Where do you think he lives?"
"Osset're." Another kiss.
"Think about it. He's English by his accent and he's close enough to London to get there easily. We're in Abria. Harry is very powerful but he's young and probably wouldn't be able to shadow walk or whatever he does much farther then that. All we'd have to do is go to London and cast few spells . . ."
Hylaarr growled to get his mate's attention. "Osset're!" This was it. "Harry is an abused child."
Dead silence. If Kiinn didn't know the boy was there he would have sworn he wasn't.
"He does not trust us, hence his magic only bringing him here in spirit. He is very fragile. Any push from us that he is not ready for could break him." Hylaarr said it very quietly and squeezed his mate's fingers to show he was serious.
"Hylaarr." Osset're breathed. "Do you think . . . It it possible he's still being abused?"
Utter silence. There was still not a sound from the boy. There was no turning back though. It was now or never. Kiinn had the sneaking suspicion that Harry wouldn't voluntarily come back to Crescent if left to himself.
The boy was across the room in an instant and Kiinn scrambled to chase after him with his mate not far behind. Harry was halfway to the bench before he was stopped by Kiinn's dominant command.
Harry turned to face Osset're and Hylaarr. For the first time the boy couldn't hide what he felt. It was written on his face. He felt anger, and betrayal, and fear. He feared the truth. For the first time it was confirmed. Harry's truth was ugly.
"I am not abused." So much pain came with the mindspeach but Kiinn was looking for something. And he found it. The boy knew he was lying. Beneath it all, he knew.
"Harry." Osset're took a step forward and Kiinn used his Will to physically stop his mate.
"Don't come near me." The boy hissed like a vampire. His magic wasn't a vampire's Will though and it was soon visible. It overflowed and spilled out Harry's hands. It was like liquid fire and it soon licked every inch of the boy's skin as if it would burn it off.
"Harry." Kiinn deliberately walked closer to him.
"Neither of you understand! " The boy was out of control. His magic had made up for his lack of voice and given him one. Even Osset're, who was pathetically mute to mindspeech heard him. "They are Punishments. I'm . . . horrid! I have magic, and I shouldn't. I'm a murderer! My parents are dead because of me. The Dursleys hate me. I can feel their hate and they're my family. If they hate me shouldn't everyone else? The Punishments are necessary. I need them."
He was panting by the time he was through and his cheeks were wet.
A part of him was rather put out; though very distantly as the situation wasn't the place to indulge in petty feelings. Osset're had been right about more than a few things. He would never let Kiinn forget it too.
"Harry." Kiinn kept his voice very gentle. Poor submissive childe. "Have you ever considered you aren't human?"
Harry breathed out a harsh breath into the silence of the room.
"Harry look around you." Osset're had broken free of Kiinn's Will and crept closer. "Your magic is not human magic."
The boy blinked and looked down. His hands were clenched into tight little fists. He stared at his magic as if he had never seen it before. Never seen it so free.
But it was free. Harry was submissive. He wasn't human. He had lost control and this was the result. He was desperate to hang on to the Punishments that were actually abuse because he had no other choice. He did need them. In his very core he was a submissive creature that needed the punishments to be sane. Such were the ways the ancients had followed, the way Kiinn and Crescent followed.
But the boy did not need to be abused.
This was why mistreated a submissive was met with death in his clan. This was why Kiinn wanted the entire vampire race to follow the Ancient Ways. This submissive, who was so out of control, could destroy all of Crescent if he chose to. He had enough pain and anger to do it. If Kiinn had been in his place he might have. Osset're had done something similar once.
"I'm a freak." The boy had regained his voice and it was weak from disuse.
"No." Osset're said softly. "You are a beautiful child. Wondrous. Magical. But not human."
Kiinn found himself in front of the boy without memory of getting there. Every instinct screamed at him to take this submissive childe, this hurt child, and make all the pain go away. It tore him up that he couldn't to that. He had to finish what he started.
"Harry." Kiinn forced his tone into one of utter certainty. "A human child could never speak Nin."
The boy stared at him
"Vampires speak a language called Nin. It is something we just know whether we are Borne or Embraced. We have to learn everything else but Nin is a part of our soul. Its in our blood." He managed to get a good grip on Harry's shoulder's. "We've been speaking Nin the entire time you've been here. The only way you could have understood what we said is if you knew it."
"You must be partly vampire at the very least, Harry." Osset're added.
"It's not- I-" Harry closed his eyes and started again.
"I lied. I've been coming here since I can remember." He looked up and met Kiinn's eyes with his own green ones.
"I come here in my dreams. You've never seen me. I- I've been watching you both forever. I know everything about you. I've even learned some elven. I've read books on your shelf. I've eaten your food. I've watched you feed. I've watched you sleep. I've loved you for so long . . ." He took a shaky breath and looked down. "I lied- I lie about everything." Kiinn could barely breath though his joy. This childe loved him. "I must have learned Nin when I was little."
Kiinn couldn't damper all the emotions that speech invoked. The child had been with them all along. He loved them. That was all he needed to know. Kiinn reached out a hand with one hand and pulled Harry's chin up. He smiled very softly. "No one can learn Nin, Harry."
Osset're was eager to speak too, although he knew his place as submissive and kept back. "Harry." Osset're's emotions were so present it made controlling his own harder. "You belong here, Harry, with us. Your aunt and uncle-"
Perfection. Osset're had brought up the boy's aunt and uncle. It had been a gamble but paid off nicely. They now knew the boy's relatives were the ones who abused him.
He would kill them.
The boy shook off his hand and back up, shaking his head in denial.
"You're not real." He whispered it. "This is just a dream. It always has been."
Osset're opened his mouth to protest but Hylaarr stopped him with a look before turning to look at the boy. His met Harry's eyes with determination. He made sure no emotion was there.
"If you believe that then why don't you wake up Harry?"
The boy's mouth fell open. Kiinn ignored the boy's pain, and stepped back positioning himself close enough to stop his mate should the elven vampire break. The boy looked at Osset're. For once his mate was still and silent. Finally the boy looked away.
Then Harry was gone. Osset're didn't last beyond that. He collapsed and Kiinn was forced to tend to his mate instead of dwell on the boy. It was nearly impossible to get his mate to bed so he force fed him a potion and held him down until it took.
It was morning now. It was very early and the sun was just rising. The potion would be wearing off soon. Soon they would be gone.
Damn how ugly the truth was. They were going to get their son.
The summer was horrid. Harry was fine. In fact he was completely fine. The only evidence of having his throat slit was a scar that really wasn't very visible as Harry always looked down and it didn't show. Dudley was pissed off because of it.
He had hoped there would be evidence. That a neighbor would see and tell someone. That he might pluck up the courage and call the police. He had hoped even more that Professor Peter would stop by and . . . well he wasn't sure. If the professor wasn't barmy he might actually be a werewolf and then what would happen to Dudley's parent? If he wasn't how could he possibly convince Harry to go with him?
And Dudley had come to the conclusion that Harry would have to go. He was the source of his parents behavior. He was the one they abused and the one they hated. Dudley didn't know why. But he knew Harry would have to go. Professor Peter wanted it that way. Why else would he hang out with Dudley all year?
Dudley would have to stay. His parents needed him. If he left too they would be all alone and they might become . . . more mad then they already were. They might follow Professor Peter and despite what he said Dudley doubted the man could defend Harry by himself. He just wasn't big enough. So Dudley would have to stay.
It went unsaid that he didn't want to.
Dudley wasn't as oblivious as usual over the summer. In fact he might have noticed too much. For one thing he noticed his dad would visit Harry once a day and beat him up. He also noticed they refused to feed him or let him out of Dudley's second bedroom. Dudley noticed too that they didn't want him to know and refused to do anything to Harry when he was in the house.
If he hadn't been such a coward he wouldn't have left at all that summer.
But, after a lot of thought, Dudley found he hated them. He loved them, they were his parents after all, but he hated them and he didn't know how to stop. He was afraid if they talked to him and tried to justify what they did then he'd never be able to stop. He was afraid if he talked to them he'd end up screaming and never be able to stop. So he didn't. He didn't say anything to them and they were angry and took it out on Harry.
If Dudley hadn't been such a coward he would have said something to his parents even if it were all lies.
Dudley spent the summer at the library. He convinced Piers that he had almost failed school and if he didn't catch up his parents were going to home school him. Piers convinced his mum to take them and they both spent the summer at the Library. He didn't know why he hid it from his parents. He just did.
Books weren't something Dudley liked. In fact he hated books. The letters were confusing and Dudley still didn't read very well. He was embarrassed because of it and didn't tell his parents. They didn't believe the his teachers when they told them. He'd been doing much better with Professor Peter but now there was no Professor Peter and he was struggling. He kept on though. He was looking for something in particular.
He wanted a phone number.
Dudley knew only three telephone numbers. The one to dial for home, the one to dial for Piers, and the one to dial in case of emergency. Other than that he was clueless. If he had had any foresight he would have gotten Professor Peter's number. It would have been perfect too as Professor Peter would know what he was talking about and even if he didn't like Dudley anymore he would do anything for Harry.
But he didn't so he was looking for the number to call Mrs. Mooney. He wasn't sure he'd get Mrs. Mooney exactly, and wasn't' sure he wanted to as she didn't do much the last time she was at his house, but he hoped to get someone who was just like her.
The trouble was he didn't know what she was called, or where she worked, or how to find the number if he did know without asking the librarian. He didn't want to ask the librarian as the last time he'd asked one for something, he believed it was a book on cooking, she'd rang home and told his parent. That was the last thing he wanted. In fact it would be the worst thing that could happen.
He had a second option. If he could find a number for Mrs. Mooney perhaps he could find an address for the barmy old man and get him to come back. It might be scary to talk to someone who could do magic but if he explained that Harry just couldn't stay anymore, that he made Dudley's parents mad, perhaps he would take Harry away.
But he hadn't a clue how to start there and the librarian was no help. When he asked about magic people he was sent to the fiction section. That wasn't any help at all. The second time she sent him to the fantasy section. That help a bit more until Dudley realized that everything wasn't real. The third time he asked her she sent him to the baby section. Where there were books with pictures. She gave him one with a dragon on it.
He did have a third option. There was a police man ( at least Dudley thought he was a police man; he wore a uniform) who visited the librarian once a week. He brought her flowers and made her blush. She always shooed him off saying he should be working. Dudley had almost gone up to him so many times.
He didn't because he did love his parent. He didn't want them to go to jail. Did mums even go to jail? He wasn't sure if mum's were allowed there but didn't want to take the chance. After all what would happen to him once they were in jail? And what would happen to Harry? Dudley had a crazy thought that Harry might break them out and then get thrown in there himself but thought he remembered Professor Peter telling him adults went to jail and not children.
Dudley got better at reading. He read books on children. One told how babies were made. That one had nearly made him sick but Piers had just laughed and made rude comments that Dudley didn't understand. He read one book that talked about good parenting. It only confirmed what Professor Peter had told him. His parents weren't doing a very good job. And that was only about Dudley. He couldn't find anything that mentioned what they did to Harry.
Dudley finally resorted to trying to get Harry to do something. He was careful at first but then he finally openly said if Harry didn't do something he would. Harry never caught on though. His parent had Harry so brainwashed he doubted Harry would do anything without their permission.
He'd been wrong. Harry had a cat.
The Dursleys didn't like animals. His mum thought they were dirty and disgusting and refused to have anything to do with them. His dad didn't like the work it took to keep up with one. Dudley had a puppy once. Its name had been Piddles. It had only been there a week before it mysteriously disappeared. Mum said it ran away but Dudley didn't believe her.
Dudley hear the cat meow once in the middle of the night. He had crept to the door that adjoined their room, err his room and his second bedroom, and had heard it purring. He didn't ever see it though. The only way he knew it was around was because Harry couldn't make any noise anymore. He didn't even make any sounds chewing.
He didn't see the cat until it woke him up.
"Get up little fat boy."
Dudley opened his eyes to see a strangely colored cat glaring at him. A paw batting his nose woke him up further and he couldn't help his small scream.
"Be silent or I will silence you as I did Harry." Dudley's mouth snapped shut. He looked the cat in shock. "Now listen to me little fat boy. Harry is a very important person. He is a Wizard. He has magic. And he is being abused by your horrid parents." The cat spoke English terribly but it was passable and could be excused as he was a cat. More so Dudley was soon caught by what he said.
"I know." He whispered it very carefully. "But I don't know what to do. Harry won't do anything."
The cat's tail flicked once and Dudley was startled to see it so short. Did cat's tails come like that? Another bat to his nose brought his eyes back to the cat's mismatched ones.
"Pay attention." The cat seemed to frown at him. "Can't you think of anything to do?"
Dudley started to shake his head but stopped. If the cat was magical perhaps he could help. "I need a phone number." He whispered softly. The cat stared at him
"Do I look like a directory?" Dudley shook his head. "What we need is someone who can save him, despite his reluctance to be saved." The cat's eyes were a different color and looked funny so close up.
Dudley shook his head to get rid of bizarre thoughts and bit his lip. There was always Professor Peter. Perhaps. . .
"Would a werewolf work?" He whispered cautiously.
The cat stared at him in surprise. "You know a werewolf?"
"Err sorta. I'm not sure he is one but he cares about Harry and I would have told him before but I don't know where he lives and-" The cat hit him on the nose again.
"Be silent little fat boy." The cat twitched its whiskers, then wrinkled it's nose. Then it sat down and began washing it's ears. Dudley wasn't amused. If the talking cat could help Harry then he really needed to know now.
"Right." Suddenly the cat was done and looking at Dudley with his odd eyes. " If I take you to this werewolf you find your way back? Yes?" Dudley nodded quickly. "Good." The cat suddenly jumped on him and before Dudley could say anything and his bedroom disappeared.
"Hold on." Was all the cat said. And then it was dark and cold and things seemed to lurk in the darkness. Dudley felt like he had just stepped into his nightmares. And then he was out and lying on his back in the grass.
"Please don't ever do that again." He whispered as he looked at the sky bleeding color as the sun set.
"Get up little fat boy. We're here."
Dudley rolled over and found himself in front of a church. And not just any church it was the crumbling old one that Mrs. Thomas had a big to do over when they started to tear it down. She got her way but it was still half torn down and his mum called it an eyesore.
"Here?" He asked in dismay.
"Yes. Get up now."
Dudley sighed and got up slowly.
"Do I have to go in?" He looked at the church and whimpered. "Can't you go?"
The cat eyed the church with disdain. "No. When you convince the werewolf, take him back to Privet Dr." The cat turned to go. "Oh and tell him all the wards have been toyed with but only for tonight."
Then the cat was gone and Dudley was left alone on the grass. The sounds of cars pulling into driveways and doors slamming the next street over as people came home from work could be heard. Dudley wished the cat had thought to let him get some shoes first as the grass was wet and his socks were now soaked.
Not feeling very brave he walked across the grass to the side walkway and started for the door. He had to stop and calm himself down before he started up the stairs. It would be okay. He had spent his entire summer looking for help and now he had it. This was what he wanted right? It was time to stop being a coward. He had stood up to his parents once. He could do this.
He straightened his shoulders and marched up the stairs, only having to stop once to catch his breath, which showed how much weight he had lost over the summer. He hesitated at the door. What if the Professor didn't care anymore? What if he only cared about Harry? He had been sure he could handle getting Harry out and staying but now he wasn't so sure. He remembered the professor and how he had been so nice to him. He suddenly wanted Professor Peter to take him too. He really wanted that.
He knocked on the door with the knocker. The sound was flat and dull and didn't even echo but werewolves must have good hearing right?
The door opened.
A man with graying hair and glasses opened the door. It wasn't Professor Peter.
"Stupid cat." Dudley muttered under his breath. "Of course he'd get the wrong place."
"Pardon?" The man asked in a gentle but bewildered voice. "Mr. Dursley?"
A horrid smell woke Remus John Lupin. The first thing he noticed was pain. Every muscle, every joint, ached. When he opened his eyes an owl blocked his view. It hissed at him in annoyance and the sound echoed in the room like a dog whistle. Remus winced and moved a hand over his the ear that wasn't pressed into a pile of parchment. The pain was familiar, which was the only reason he could make sense of what was going on. The pain meant one thing.
The full moon was very close.
The smell was identified as coming from the bundle the owl had brought. It was a noxious oder. It smelled of rotten eggs and burnt vomit and wet dog.
Reluctant to move but aware he had to he woofed out a breath and pushed himself up into a sitting position. With blurred vision he looked around before finally stopping to gaze at the owl. It hooted at him in disgust and Remus whimpered at the sound.
Damn owls were always so cruel. Was is any wonder the wolf found them much more appetizing as snacks? With slow movements he patted his vest pocket and his fingers found a few knuts and a walnut. Unsure how the walnut got there he offered it to the owl and moved to place the knuts inside a small bag attached to the owl's leg. He missed once or twice before the coins finally went in. The owl hooted disapprovingly at him before it shook it wings and took off.
A single feather was let loose and drifted down to rest where Remus's head had rested just minutes before. Remus stared at it wondering how he came to be sitting up here instead of lying down there with a feather usurping his place. What had woken him again? He blinked in confusion and sniffed the air. Ahh yes. An owl. And rotten eggs. Had he recently eaten eggs then? Owl eggs?
He frowned and slowly brought up a hand to his face. His glasses weren't there. Ahh. That was why everything was blurry. Carefully he moved a hand to the table and patted it. His fingers brushed parchment, muggle paper, notes, pens, and knocked over an inkwell before finally feeling the familiar metal frame. His fingers brushed the glass and he hissed at the sharp pain.
Carefully he picked them up and brought them to his face. One eye came into focus while the other didn't. Unable to figure out why he forgot about that and leaned back in his chair. Where was he again? Why was he here? And were was the wolf. After these past few years he was used to hearing his mindmate whispering beneath his thoughts.
Oh wait. He was there. Sleeping. Slightly comforted Remus turned his attention to focusing on memory. Why was everything so blurry in his thoughts? Pathetic really. He had always been prized for his easy ability to recall information. James had often said he wasn't really smart. Even a dog could remember things if you repeated it often enough. Remus would ignore him and continue to mutter facts to himself while Sirius got into a tussle with James over the dog slur and Peter shook his head and laughed.
Thinking of Peter, James, and especially Sirius abruptly hurt and shocked Remus into remembering he was dead. That lead to thinking about how he had died. Sirius killed him. And James was dead. And Harry. Oh poor Harry. He was not dead but probably wanted to. Oh and Dudley. At least Dudley wasn't suffering.
Remus remembered the last year. Harry was prominent in his mind but then Dudley took over. Sometimes, he mixed up something Dudley said with something Harry said and it all got muddled up in his mind. Had Dudley said 'I hate you' with such disgust? Had Harry been the one to laugh at the silly facts that Remus had spent hours memorizing as a child? Who did he love? Harry or Dudley? Or were Harry and Dudley both the same and he, in his madness, had separated them into two different pups?
Remus also had a dream. When he dreamed it he didn't know but he recalled the dream now. He had been running and chasing children. A child. A girl with blond pigtails and a red jacket. She had sat in the front row and always smiled at him. He had found her house and lured her out. And then he had eaten her.
Remus frowned and rubbed his forehead. That wasn't right. Perhaps the wolf had dreamed it then. Why was his memory so mistaken? Perhaps he needed food. When had he last eaten? Looking around he noticed the room he was in for the first time. It was a church. He remembered that. This was the main room he had transfigured into his work room.
Tables were everywhere. Some were actual tables, wooden and broken, transfigured stone ones for potions, and even a glass one he had pulled from some muggle's back yard. A few were books piled up like legs with boards across them. Cauldrons and potions and ingredients were everywhere. Parchment lay scatted, on table tops, halfway out of drawers, and on the floor. Books were piled high, some near to falling off a table's edge, many stacked in chairs, on benches, and one half in a spilled potion.
There was no food to be had. Remus honestly couldn't recall when he had last eaten. Yesterday he had slept. No yesterday he had done research. Or had he brewed a potion? Ahh yes a potion. He had brewed a potion and it had exploded. Suddenly Remus was on his feet.
He had found a way to free himself!
Oh yes he had. Harry. Harry eating. Harry laughing. Harry going away with him. Harry living with him. Hogwarts. He could think about it all. And there was no pain. Nothing. Not even a hint of it. He laughed. He had done it. Finally.
The summer was still blurry. Remus had spent it in a flurry of research but now everything was fine. It all had paid off. He knew, somehow in his gut he knew, that he could go to Harry and touch Harry and hug Harry and no one would be the wiser. He could rescue Harry now. He could do it.
It felt bloody brilliant.
A knock on the door had him smiling. Perhaps that was Harry. Harry had left the Dursleys and come to find him. He was across the room in an instant, unheeding the parchments full of scribbles that were disturbed by his swiftness and sent flying into the air to drift slowly to the floor behind him.
He opened the door and abruptly his mind cleared. Not Harry. Dudley.
"Pardon?" He asked as Dudley looked at him oddly and he didn't know why. "Mr. Dursley?"
Dudley Dursley stood in the door frame on the front stoop of the abandoned church that Remus had holed up in. He looked at Remus in dismay and Remus was puzzled. Oh yes. Remus was Remus and not John James Peter. Remus frowned at the name. Why had he come up with such an obvious name?
The boy froze, and stared at him for a moment. Finally he stepped closer, blue eyes locked with Remus's. Remus was confused for a moment before it clicked. The boy was looking at his eyes. His eyes that were amber, a werewolf's eyes, that couldn't be hidden with spells or muggle things or polyjuice.
Remus sighed. How would he explain this? "Mr. Dursley I know you may not recognize me but I am-"
"Professor Peter." The boy interrupted him looking uncertain and nervous but his tension eased a bit when Remus nodded
"Yes.." He said it a bit awkwardly. " There is a potion that can change what you look like into something else. . . " He trailed off. The way the boy looked at him made him think of McGonagall when she would catch the Marauders pulling a prank and Remus was pushed forward for an explanation. She always looked like she didn't believe a word he said and rightly so. Remus sighed again. "I am sorry you had to find out this way."
Dudley bit his lip and studied Remus a bit closer. Remus forced himself, after years of practice, to not fidget when the boy took in his patched clothes and untrimmed hair and holy shoes.
"What happened to your glasses?"
"What?" Remus brought up a hand to his glasses in surprise and again cut his finger on the glass. Sticking his finger in his mouth he sucked the blood away and winced at the pain. How had he forgotten about that? With a practiced movement from a once champion dueler Remus pulled out his wand tapped his glasses and returned them to new condition, well as new as they had been when he got them.
When he looked up he found Dudley staring with his mouth open. He smiled softly. "A potion exploded. Nothing to worry about."
The sound of a car door slamming broke into Dudley's awe.
"Professor Peter!" He suddenly half shouted. "You must save Harry!"
Remus was suddenly very intent. "Why? What has happened?" He realized he had growled the question when Dudley's eyes widened. Luckily the boy wasn't aware of what that meant.
"My parents, my dad." Dudley swallowed and looked down. "I- You were right. They-" He swallowed again and squared his shoulders and lifted his chin meeting Remus' eyes. "They abuse Harry. He doesn't realize it but he needed to get out of there."
Good boy. "What do you think I can do?" Even if the spell was off Remus and the wolf, there was still the blood wards and the ministry wards and the detection of dark creature wards.
"Come home with me. Take him away" Dudley said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Dudley-" Remus couldn't think of what to say so he didn't say anything. Moments ticked by and tuned into minutes.
The boy scowled at him. "No. You tried to get me to believe you about the abuse all last year. Now I do and you won't take care of it?" The boy looked at him in disgust. " You have m-magic. Your a werewolf, unless you were lying!" Remus shook his head but the boy plowed on. "You can do something!"
" Dudley." Remus said it soothingly. It wasn't so simple as that. There was Dumbledore, and muggle and wizarding authorities, and not the least to mention the Dursleys themselves that Remus was afraid he'd rip apart if he went near.
The boy looked as if he had hit him and Remus winced. "I never thought you were a coward, Peter."
Remus swallowed hard. He remembered James saying the exact same thing to him and Peter when every he and Sirius wanted to pull a prank. But he had said it in a cruel, your-a-Nancy-boy, sorta way and Dudley said it as if he was . . . disappointed. Disillusioned.
But Remus was a Gryffindor. He was no coward.
"All right. You're right. We must save Harry." Seeing the boy's eyes light up was worth what he knew would be another failure. Abruptly he stepped out the door, forcing Dudley to scramble out of his way. With purpose he closed the door and started down the stairs, Dudley just a step behind him.
The only thing that would stop him this time would be the wards. "I might be able to break through the wards with a spell I learned recently. Maybe." He muttered to him self as he headed down the walk.
"Umm, sir?" Dudley ran a bit to catch up. "About the wards?"
Remus stopped and looked at Dudley in surprise. The boy flushed but went on.
"They've been, err toyed? Yes toyed with. But just for tonight." He was red with embarrassment when he finished.
Remus' mind jumped into overdrive. He had known it would all work out well. The wards had been toyed with. There would be no failure tonight. Harry would soon be free.
"Thank you, Mr. Dursley." He said it softly. Then, with a short warning, he grabbed the boy's shoulder and apparated them to Privet Dr.
Dudley approved of cars. He really did. He even liked walking. No he loved walking. They really could have walked just as easily. Perhaps even more easily as he wouldn't now be face down in the dirt.
Professor Peter, err well he wasn't exactly sure that was his name but thought he'd ask later, helped him up with one strong arm. His stomach rolled a bit as he stood before he managed to get it settled. He looked around. He was on the front lawn of number 4 Privet Dr. He was home.
Professor Peter looked around, his yellow eyes overly wide. Dudley frowned. He didn't think the summer had been kind to him but he couldn't tell as the man looked completely different. The clothes were the same though, when Dudley thought about it, and had even more darned patches and a few new holes. His posture was different, like the school's old librarian, with slightly rounded shoulders from hunching over books. His glasses and the gray in his hair and the lines on his face made him look old.
He waited but the Professor just looked around in a dazed sorta way. He supposed he would have to take the lead.
"Err, Harry's not allowed out. Hasn't been all summer. So you'll have to go in and get him."
The Professor frowned and nodded but didn't move. Dudley tried again.
"Err, you know he's got magic right?"
That got his attention. Professor Peter looked at him and nodded cautiously. Dudley nodded in confirmation, like his mum did sometimes. "Err, yeah. So be careful. He might do something to you."
The Professor sighed. "He might at that. He is very powerful." Dudley snorted. He had heard that.
"So don't talk to him. Just take him away and talk later. It's not like he can talk back anyhow."
Professor Peter's head snapped from looking at his mum's petunias to look Dudley in the eye. "What?" He fairly growled.
Dudley blinked. Oh. He hadn't told him. "Err. At the beginning of the summer. Actually when I got home the day we, err, fought." Dudley swallowed. He hadn't realized this would be so hard. "I found Harry cutting himself. Punishing himself."
"What!" The word was like a slap and Dudley winced. Professor Peter didn't notice because he suddenly had a hold of Dudley's shoulders almost tight enough to hurt.
"Err. Yeah. That's how the got around the spell the barmy old man cast. Then they got around it for real, cause I sorta told them I knew, and . . ." Would he hate Dudley for his part in it? "My dad cut Harry's throat. He-he can't talk anymore." The cat had said something but Dudley couldn't remember. "Err, I don't think."
And there was cold wind again. It wasn't as strong as it had been when Dudley felt it in November but it was cold. It came from the Professor and Peter's grip was suddenly so tight it hurt. His eyes seemed to glow and they turned into a color that looked like a brick of gold or a woman's fine chain. Dudley got scared. He couldn't help it he got scared and with all his strength he pulled away barely managing to escape Peter's grasp.
It was a good thing he had because the Professor suddenly doubled over, an odd whining sound escaping his mouth, and his body twisted strangely. Dudley could barely breath. What was happening? Peter's body contorted backwards and then forwards and he fell to the ground.
"I didn't take it." He suddenly whispered in horror. His eyes suddenly locked with Dudley's. They were wild and frightened and frightening. "Run." He said. "Run now."
Dudley hesitated as Peter was in pain and Dudley was slowly learning to sympathize with people in pain but a high pitched howl sounded startling him into jumping.
When he realized the sound came from the Professor he ran.
Petunia Dursley's world was going to hell.
It was all the fault of that boy. That monster boy. That little witch. That f-freak.
One of Petunia's darkest secrets was she had once wanted to be one.
When her sister, her beautiful, talented, radiant Lily, had been accepted at that school she had been willing to follow. In fact her sister had been so enthusiastic about it, that her excitement had been contagious and Petunia had wanted to go as well. She had wanted to be a witch.
She wrote the Headmaster of that school. Dumbledoor or some such oddness. She had begged to be allowed to attend. She had wanted to go so badly. She had wanted to be with her sister. But he had said no. His letter had arrived and beneath the fancy words and her mother's sympathetic look and Petunia had first known rejection. It was then she began hating witches.
Her parents didn't attend church but her grandmother did. Occasionally, when she went to visit her over a holiday, and her sister stayed at that school with her freakish friends her grandmother would taker her to church. It was there she found a reason to hate witches.
She could remember the way Father Wright looked. His face had been red with passion as he shouted out to the congregation, his woolly white hair flying about as it came unbound with the fury of his speech. She remembered her grandmother seated them in the back, "To avoid accidental spittle, dear." The benches had been wooden and everyone had sat in them with an attentive but wary air. The church had been a bit cold, and she had been bored until she actually began listening.
"ALL supernatural power comes, ultimately, from either God or Satan." His eyes seemed to lock with people as he talked and he would shout the first word of every sentence.
"GOD gives power to those who believe the truth. SATAN gives power to those who believe a lie. WITCHCRAFT bolsters up the lie with: mystery, pseudo-science, ancient knowledge. The more ABSURD the lie the better."
Petunia knew well the sin of lying as she had recently been caught in one when her mother had asked if Lily had owled and she had lied and said she didn't. Owl indeed. Lily hadn't found an owl bearing a letter, just the letter left on the front stoop, which she had thrown away.
But it was like coming home listening to Father Wright. If you had a home that didn't harbor a freak in the next bedroom. Witchcraft was merely lying. She had been rather gleeful at that. It meant she didn't have to believe a word her sister said as she was a witch and so she must be lying.
"If we mix certain INGREDIENTS in a drink . . . If we eat a special HERB . . . If we arrange CANDLES in a certain configuration . . . If we stare into a CRYSTAL ball . . If we turn over TAROT cards . . . If we "READ" the stars . . . If we speak certain PHRASES, or MANTRA . . . If we have SECRET knowledge . . . If we draw certain SYMBOLS . . . THEN spiritual forces will come into play."
Petunia couldn't help but jump whenever he shouted but it made her pay attention, not that she had much trouble. Here she was justified in everything she thought. Here she had an adult telling others that Witchcraft was wrong. She had been right. She was right. She knew it now.
"JAMES 3:15 says Such "WISDOM" does not come down from heaven but is EARTHLY, UNSPIRITUAL, and of the DEVIL. WITCHCRAFT can be defined as a DESIRE to be a spiritual free agent without SUBMISSION to God or regard for His word."
He said the word desire as if it were a horrible thing to do and submission as if you ought to do it.
"Second Chronicles 33:6 says He practiced SORCERY, DIVINATION and WITCHCRAFT, and consulted MEDIUMS and SPIRITISTS. He did much EVIL in the eyes of the Lord, provoking him to anger." Father Wright had to pause and breath before he could continue. Petunia was horrified that all that was evil. She was also thrilled.
"Jeremiah 27, "So do not listen to your PROPHETS, your DIVINERS, your INTERPRETERS of dreams, your MEDIUMS or your SORCERERS . . . Do not let the prophets and diviners among you DECIEVE you."
He paused a long while before continuing. Many people grew restless but stopped figeting the moment he looked their way. He held his silence and finally is eyes met hers.
"DO NOT practice DIVINATION OR SORCERY!"
And it was then she had been glad she wasn't accepted at that school. It was a bad place to be. A horrible evil place full of liars. God would have been so angry. It was such a shame Lily was a witch.
She hadn't gone to church much after that, nor really cared about anything else said there but that day stuck in her head. She had been right. That is what held her proud though all the letters from her sister and all the books and spells and magic things and that horrid boy that lived down the street and made her see spiders and snakes whenever he was around.
She often told Lily that God hated her. Lily cried the first time but later seemed to stop caring. Petunia took that as a sign that she was right. If her sister didn't love God anymore she must be evil. The years passed and she came to believe it more and more.
But she realized she was wrong when her sister wound up dead and that boy appeared on their doorstep. She then realized her sister had been brainwashed the entire time. She had been stolen by the devil and he had raped her and that boy had been born. That evil freak of a creature. She had mourned that she hadn't been able to help her sister.
She supposed she could have blamed it all on Potter. He was the one who stole her sister's heart and swept her away. She did for the longest time, jealousy twisting her stomach like a hand in her gut, but when the boy appeared she realized everything. Harry Potter was responsible for everything.
She hadn't liked it when it first appeared, she had in fact dropped it off at the hospital right off but it came back. She had reluctantly given it a bed in Dudley's second bedroom and taken care of the freak. The fact that she couldn't look into its eyes meant nothing. She simply didn't feed it. She put food in front of it. If it got hungry it would eat. Other than reluctance to love it she did nothing out of the ordinary. It couldn't help its parentage after all.
The first time she realized the boy was evil was when he killed the cat.
It wasn't her cat. It had belonged to Mrs. Figg and had somehow gotten out and crept over to her house to play in the back yard. She had been hanging laundry and the boys had been on the grass playing and eating a snack. It had toyed with Dudley's blanket and made that boy laugh when its whiskers swept over bare skin. She had smiled for the first time at the sight of the boy. It had been the last time.
She had left them for a moment. The phone had rang and she had been expecting a call from Vernon saying if he'd be late or not. She had only left them for a moment.
When she returned everything was well. Dudley was happily eating his snack and the boy sleeping with his head pillowed on the cat's belly. She had marveled that the creature could still breath with such weight but the rise and fall of its stomach testified that it could. She had started to hang up one of Vernon's work shirts when out of the corner of her eye the boy had suddenly looked green. She had moved to check on him, certain the daft child had eaten grass or something, when the green exploded. It had been light, hot and cold and green. It had engulfed the boy in flames of green fire. Witches fire. Evil green fire. His back had arched and out of his mouth an unholy sound that sent her Dudley into hysterics and her along with him.
When the light faded. The boy lay near to not breathing and his scar bled. The cat lay dead.
Vernon had take the boy away. Petunia had been distraught. That evil boy had nearly hurt her son. She had wanted him gone. She didn't care where. Vernon had returned without him and she didn't ask anything.
But the next morning she had been nervous. The neighbors had known about the Dursley's generosity in taking in their orphan nephew. They would notice his absence. And the police. What if they found out? They would never believe tales of witchcraft and freakishness.
She had attacked the kitchen to settle her nerves. The entire room glowed before she even got to the floor. When she opened the broom cupboard she had screamed loud enough to wake Dudley from his nap. There had been the boy, fast asleep, dried blood on his forehead. She had slammed the door shut and frantically looked for a lock. After securing the door she had called Vernon.
After that similar events kept her from growing too complacent. The boy might act harmless and submissive but he was not. He was evil and every day she grew more and more certain of it. She hadn't planned on beating the boy but it came about whenever she was angry if she hurt him she would feel calmer. Vernon followed her lead and soon was the main instigator of the . . . punishments.
But now the boy had done it. He had turned her own son against her. Her son, her precious Dudley couldn't even look at her, wouldn't talk to her. She barely saw him and when she did it made her want to cry. He looked so small; he had lost weight. It made her want to scoop him up and make sure nothing ever touched him. But she couldn't because he hated her.
He thought she was a child abuser.
She wasn't though. She was right. She was simply doing the only thing she could. She never wanted that boy. She tried to get rid of the freak. She laughed at the thought that he could ever be normal. That she, or anyone really, could ever love him. No one could because he was an evil creature of the devil and hell.
And now her world was hell.
And she couldn't even kill him. She had tried. Vernon had tried. He still lived, even now he sat up there taking up Dudley's second bedroom and eating Dudley's food. She grew more and more bitter as the summer passed. If nothing happened soon she would crack. Soon she would try and get rid of him for good. Perhaps she would succeed. Then everything would be right again.
The sound of Dudley's scream was the beginning of the end.
The Wolf always knew pain. It was constant. It was his life. He knew nothing else.
When he first came into existence there had been pain. It had been the pain of the one to whose life he clung to. It had been a child's pain.
But then the Wolf and found the child had sharp teeth and he had known more pain. Pain when he fought to stay, pain when he took his new host's upon himself, pain when the moon first came and his own magic fought and won the right to take the body for the night.
Pain made him brainsick. It scrambled his thoughts and lost them. The Wolf often felt disoriented and off balance. His new host didn't want him and those sharp teeth let him know it. They fought and hurt him and there was always pain.
But then the Wolf had known more pain then ever before, it had come like suddenly like a stag out of the brush from up wind, and suddenly he could hear his host's thoughts. His host became his mindmate and he had known more about this intimate member of his pack.
He hadn't understood much. He was too tired and to much ever in pain for that but he was able to comfort his mindmate. He had known quickly his host knew not that he hurt him. It was fair. His very presence hurt his host too.
The wolf did know about pack. He knew of the one that loved them, the one that smelled like laughter and sugar and sleepy soft breath and was submissive and was titled mate. He knew of others. They smelled like prey but were not prey. Then the human ones. The human pups. First the one that was more . . . much more than he seemed. The one that was very close to what the Wolf was. Then the other one. The one that had no magic but could see it. He never saw the wolf but he was young and might one day.
These members of pack staying in his mind, and his host's mind, even through the death of most of them. The Wolf was confused as to when each became pack and when they left but it seemed to the Wolf that they were always gone. That hurt his mind mate and so it became the Wolf's goal to get them back.
The Wolf supported his mindmate as much as possible but it was hard to keep his thoughts steady, it was hard to think through the pain, it was hard to stay sane. Madness was so constant a companion it almost seemed pack.
Now the moon rose again and there was pain.
It was familiar pain and it meant freedom. Temporary freedom but freedom nonetheless. It was freedom from pain, from the darkness his host's teeth kept him in, from the idea of death. It wasn't freedom from the madness but then there was freedom in madness so it was alright.
But the pain was gone, for only this blessed night each month, and the sent of pain was on the softly blown wind. It was his pack, the one that hurt his host with his pain. He was in pain; he was letting loose his teeth.
It was obvious to the Wolf that he must help. His host was sleeping now, perhaps for the first time in years since the poison had started coming, and he was in no position to help. The Wolf must help their packmate as he had no one else.
He raised his head and sniffed the air. There was the moon, and the coming night, and wet. Rain was coming. And pain. And fear.
Fear was intoxicating to the Wolf. It made the madness more mad.
The smell of fear was stronger than the smell of pain and the smell of teeth. The Wolf smelled fear and he began to salivate. Pain. This time he would inflict the pain.
With a joyous cry the Wolf was after the source and then through the door into the dwelling where more pain filled his nose. Old pain. Pain of young members of pack. He was after the fleeing source of fear. It screamed and tried to lose him and then it was with in reach.
The Wolf sunk his teeth into flesh with ease. The wriggling thing screamed and pain filled his nose. The madness was quiet for a moment and the Wolf released the human with sudden shame. His pack. The human pup with no magic. He had bitten him. Even the Wolf knew what it meant. His human pup was no longer human.
He also had scrambled away and smelled of fear and pain and urine.
The scream of another pulled his attention away. It was the female human. The one that hurt his other human pup. The little pup. She screamed and had risen to her feet from where she sat. The Wolf looked at her and saw evil. Enemy. Prey.
He moved to attack but was distracted by larger prey. It lumbered to its feet and it's face got darker then very pale. Suddenly it was beneath his teeth and squealing in pain. Bone and blood and fat filled his mouth and it took a few shakes to still it. Suddenly it was dead.
But it wasn't enough. The larger human. It was so much bigger than the little magical pup. It could hurt the pup that much easier. The Wolf had to be sure it was dead. Rage filled his thought until that was all there was. He tore and ripped and pulled and howled. He was covered in blood before he was through.
Frantic sobbing met found his ears. The female human held the his new wolf pup to her and screamed and screamed and screamed. He stalked her slowly and her fear rose. Get! He snarled. My pup! GET AWAY! Rage made him unaware she couldn't understand him. He chased her and she ran but she didn't get far before loosing her footing and collapsing to the floor.
He was on her and she died quickly as he ripped out her throat. Rage had him tearing her to pieces. Kill. Rip. Tear. Blood.
When he was through the sound of harsh breathing could be heard. He turned and found the little human pup crouched not a foot away. He seemed to be glowing.
Rage made him snarl. This one didn't like his host. This one hurt his host. Images he had seen in his host's mind flashed briefly by. The one where this pup said words that hurt them both lingered.
Madness made him attack. He lunged but fell as teeth bit him. He had forgot the little pup had teeth. He was thrown back by powerful teeth and there was pain before there was darkness.
Why had he decided to go to Crescent? More important why had he decided to use his magic? It hadn't been a normal thing for him to do. In fact, due to his promise to Petunia, it had been strictly out of character. And now he was paying the price.
Harry stared at his hands. They were very small hand, a child's hands, riddled with scars and slightly dirty although how they had gotten that way was beyond him as he'd been in Dudley's second bedroom all summer and most of it in bed. They were normal hands, he thought. Proportioned nicely and strong enough to do work when it needed done.
Currently they were glowing.
Green and blue and gold swirled around his hands like Osset're's magic did around him. Except he was no mage and his magic was supposed to say within his body unless he said otherwise. He had not said otherwise and his magic was running rampant. It disobeyed his repeated orders to settle back into the cup. It laughed when he tried to capture it.
Mutiny. Utter mutiny.
His emotions weren't obeying him either. He was desperate to calm himself down. He could barely breath thorough the emotions and this time they weren't someone else's emotions he could ignore but his.
Rage was most prominent. It was so hot he felt sick with it. The fear was nearly as strong. They had found out; Osset're and Hylaarr had found out. What would he do? What would they do? What would the Dursleys do? Everything was about to fall apart. And then there was the pain. He hurt. Betrayal was so unexpected until it happened. They had betrayed him. They didn't love him. If they did they would believe him. They wouldn't have plotted to break him. And then there was yearning. It wasn't strong, just present. It was enough to let him know it was there. Yearning for Crescent, missing it. Yearning for Osset're and Hylaarr. Yearning for truth. A part of him wanted to believe what they had said. Wanted to believe what they believed.
That he was being abused. That he didn't deserve it. That he might belong with them because he was part vampire.
Harry struggled to control his emotions. He struggled to push them down, push them deep, drown them with other things. They pushed right back. Rage boiled down to anger. How dare they! How dare they tell him these things! They had to know he might believe them. They had to know he would believe them. They had never lied to him. How dare they start now!
Anger. He was angry at the Dursleys. Why were they always so obvious? Why was it always up to Harry to hide the a-punishments? Why didn't they clean up their own messes? The whisper laughed at him. Because they have you. It laughed again. And you do it.
When he pushed away the anger, fear reared its head. What would happen when they found out someone else knew? What would the punishment be? What would happen if they, the Dursleys, truly washed their hand of him? There would be no punishments. There would be nothing to hold him in check. There would be nothing to cancel out the temptation to act normal.
What would Osset're and Hylaarr do to them? Harry felt true fear for the Dursleys. Hylaarr and Osset're would kill them. The Dursleys didn't deserve what two angry vampires could dish out. It was him. It was Harry that caused it all. Harry knew what the Dursleys would suffer in the face of Hylaarr's rage. He had witnessed so much at Crescent it was easy to imag-
Suddenly Harry laughed. It was a strange laugh. He had broken Se'ir's spell and he could speak again but his voice hadn't been used all summer and his laugh was . . . awkward. It sounded broken and hiccuping and small but it echoed of the wall's of Dudley's second bedroom like someone had set loose a rubber ball.
Hylaarr and Osset're weren't real. Crescent wasn't real. How had he possibly forgotten?
Relief that was partly regret hit him and washed away all the other emotions. Nothing was wrong. In fact everything was fine. There was no such thing as Crescent and her Lord and his Consort. No such thing as vampires and Nin and children that were human but were part vampire and were supposed to have magic.
Everything would be fine. Nothing had changed.
Suddenly the cat appeared. Se'ir found his eyes immediately and for once Harry could sense his emotions. He was worried and it was contagious when he mind sent to Harry.
"Attack comes. The Werewolf craves the Fat One's death and the death of the Horse Woman. The Werewolf will kill others too in his madness. "
Harry stared at Se'ir. What?
Se'ir hissed at him. "The Werewolf will hurt the small fat boy. Go!"
Harry was on his feet before he could register why. After so long in bed he swayed and had to steady himself against a bookshelf. Taking a deep breath he asked his magic to give him strength. Willing and eager to do anything after such a long while of inactivity it seeped into him with all haste and healed every hurt he thought he might have. With breath to calm himself he started for the door.
His magic unlocked and opened the door and sped ahead of him as he raced down the stairs. The sound of the tellie blaring from the sitting room had him heading that way. He entered the room at a run and stopped short in the doorway. Petunia and Vernon sat peacefully in their chairs watching what looked to be a documentary. There wasn't a werewolf or any sign of one.
They both looked up when he came in and Petunia let out a stifled scream. Vernon sat frozen in his chair and Harry could nearly smell their fear. He blinked and looked down at him. Oh. His magic was still free. In fact it was out of control and dancing around him in wild abandon resembling fire.
Harry shook his head, trying to shake off the magic, and reached out a hand to Petunia. She screamed, a high pitched thing, and cringed away from him.
"Get away." She shrieked. "Freak! Murderer. Monster!" She looked around, her eye wild and crazy, before they lit on Vernon. "Help! Vernon get him."
But Vernon was so frozen he looked molded to his chair. He was white with terror and stared at Harry's hands as if he saw a bloody knife there instead of magic. Their fear was so great Harry couldn't escape it. It filled the room and his magic laughed in response to it and grew, spreading out around him like giant wings of green and blue and gold.
Pathetic. The whisper said in disgust.
Harry simply shook his head in dismay. How could it have come to this? They were afraid of him. Petrified. They were utterly hysterical and it was because of him. Because he was a freak.
The sound of the door opening and Dudley's scream had Harry turning his magic flaring in anticipation of an attack. He heard Petunia whimper but ignored her. He would have to use his magic in order to defend them. He could deal with the aftermath later.
Dudley was in the room only a moment before the wolf attacked. The snarling, dark thing sunk it's teeth into Dudley's leg and he screamed again this time with pain. But before Harry could direct his magic to attack the werewolf had let go allowing Dudley to crawl away dragging his leg behind him. Puzzled at the odd behavior but unwilling to pause Harry grabbed his magic in his 'hands' and directed it to the wolf.
His magic crowed at his turnabout and eagerly poured into his 'hands' ready to attack when the wolf caught Petunia out of the corner of it's eye. She had shaken off her paralysis, screamed and risen to her feet. The wolf was after her in moments and Harry imaged his magic as fire and sent it to the wolf.
But his magic balked. It had noticed what he had, the wolf was after Petunia, and it didn't want to prevent it. It remembered she had been the reason Harry had stopped using it and it was angry. It nearly cheered the wolf on and despite how Harry tried it wouldn't respond to him. Perhaps if he had been in control, perhaps if he had been older, perhaps if a part of him secretly wanted her to suffer this way he could have made it obey him but it didn't and the wolf stalked her as she turned to flee.
Vernon suddenly hefted himself to his feet, his face warring between red and white. "Boy!!" he shouted but succeeded only in drawing the wolf's attention to himself. He paled and Harry tried again but the wolf was on Vernon directly. Bloody teeth sank into pink flesh; blood spilled when flesh tore; and the echo of bones cracking could be heard in tandem with the steady growling undertone of the wolf. And then he was dead, and the wolf was pulling pieces apart.
Harry turned his head away and Petunia whimpered beneath her breath even as she scrambled to where Dudley had curled up in a corner with his head buried in his arms. She cradled Dudley in her arms and sobbed. Harry couldn't pull his eyes away. She was so protective of Dudley; obviously a mother. She loved him and she was trying to protect him even though their death was inevitable. Harry was frozen his own guilt and the Dursley's fear and the Wolf's mad rage held him back as much as his uncooperative magic did.
Then the wolf was finished and turned to Petunia who screamed and screamed and screamed before she fled, leaving Dudley and running for the nearest door. She tripped in her haste and the wolf was on her, tearing her throat out before she could scream again. It proceeded to tear her to pieces too and it rage tasted like blood in Harry's throat.
Harry did nothing. There was nothing to do and he was in shock. His mind was blank and he couldn't do anything but watch.
Finally the werewolf stopped and turned to look at Harry. He was so close his eyes were visible and he snarled at Harry in demented anger. His eyes were like honey and the seemed to swallow Harry whole.
Harry was suddenly in his mind. A million different thoughts sped by. A man with graying hair and glasses and a soft smile. Then Professor Peter, with Harry when Harry said 'I hate you", with Dudley,"Yes, Dudley. Your parents abuse Harry, and they abuse you," brewing liquids over huge black bowls, scribbling frantically, reading for hours, racing to follow Dudley, anxious to rescue Harry, seeing the moon, and then shaking and twisting with Pain.
With a gasp Harry jerked his mind free and then the wolf was lunging at him and his magic was hissing as it snapped at the wolf throwing him back into the wall where he slid down and was still.
All was quiet but for the tellie. Harry could barely breath and Dudley's sobbing was quiet. He was unable to move for a long while. Finally he blinked and, careful not to look at Petunia's remains, he moved around her body and found Dudley, who still lay shaking in the corner. Poor Dudley. She had left him. Just left him and ran. Harry hoped Dudley didn't know it. He lay a hand on Dudley's shoulders and, without prompting, his magic seeped into Dudley. Dudley glowed softly grass green and gold before his sobbing faded into sleep.
And then all was truly quiet even Harry's mind as he couldn't form a thought in it to save his life. He merely sat and listened to the dry lecture that drifted from the undisturbed tellie. A dry voice drolled on in monotone.
"An Except from Lives of the Irish Saints by John O'Hanlon
Lochaber was anciently an extensive lordship, reaching on the south to Loch-Leven. It is still a large district, in the county of Inverness, and on the shore of Argyleshire. The Scottish poet Allan Ramsey has composed a beautiful song "Lochaber nor more," in reference to this place, commencing with these lines:-
"Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell to my Jean,
Where heartsome with thee I've mony day been '
For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more,
We'll may be return to Lochaber no more."
Lochaber was once known as Abria according to this text though there aren't many sources to support that. It remains to this day a wonderful tourist place as it is located close to Ben Nevis, one of the highest mountains in the British Isles. . ."
Harry sucked in a breath. Abria. Osset're had said they were in Abria. Harry had assumed . . . actually he didn't know what he assumed. That it wasn't real? He looked blankly at the blood that dripped down upholstery of Vernon's chair. If Abria, was Lochaber . . . If Lochaber was once known as Abria.
Harry shook his head.
Lochaber was in Scotland. Lochaber had once been known as Abria so Abria existed. If Abria existed Crescent existed and Hylaarr and Osset're existed. His mind went blank after that. It couldn't be. They couldn't exist. If they did then . . .
Harry was unable to wrap his mind around that line of thought pushed it away and looked over at the werewolf. It lay on the carpet, blood soaking into it's fur. It wasn't just any wolf. Harry had gone inside his head. He knew this wolf. This werewolf. It was Professor John James Peter. Harry stared at the dark fur for a while. He had told Dudley Harry was abused. He had told Dudley he was abused. How dare he! How dare he meddle in things that ought not be meddled in. Dudley wasn't abused. He-he wasn't. He was . . .
Never corrected. Let to run wild and terrorize the neighborhood with out reprimand. Allowed to over eat. Dudley had only shown any sign of empathizing with others once he had seen Harry Punishing himself.
And Harry wasn't abused. They had been wrong. They had lied or more likely the believed it. They just didn't understand. Even if they were real. How dare they. How dare they be real!
Harry didn't give one whit about Professor John James Peter. About what he thought or what he did or what he suffered. And he must have suffered. Look at what was left of the Durlseys. Harry had made a mistake. He had thought there might be more to him and hadn't pursed it. He had ample opportunity. The Professor had been dying to get to know him. He had been eager to tell him anything. If Harry had just given him the time of day then the Dursleys . . .
And Dudley. Dudley was alive, healed, but Harry knew what would happen. Dudley would be a werewolf. Dudley had been bitten and now he would be a werewolf. How would he get by? He had no magic. Harry touched Dudley's shoulder and bit his lip. Was it possible? Could he give some of his magic to Dudley? His magic stirred restlessly at the thought. Harry ignored it. Harry leaned closer and closed his eyes. He started to reach inside himself . . .
"What are you doing?" The mindspeech sounded in his head very loudly and Harry jerked back in shock, heart pounding, magic swirling around his hands in reaction. Se'ir sat carefully between pools of blood soaked carpet and frowned at Harry. "The little fat one has no need of your magic. He now has the magic of the moon. Pack magic. Admittedly his sire leaves much to be desired as Pack but at least he will one day be able to . . ."
Harry let his magic loose and Se'ir melted away just a hair's breath before it hit. He faded back into solidity with his ears flat against his head and his teeth bared. Harry hissed back. "How dare you. You gave me nothing! You should have helped. You should. . ."
"What? Heal them?" The little cat sneered at Harry. "I wouldn't even if I could. They are horrible mortals and I am shocked you haven't done this yourself yet."
Harry stared at him in dismay. Even Se'ir didn't understand.
"Tell me, lost childe, what should I understand? That you must be punished? That you aren't abused? Punishments and abuse can be two separate things." His duel eyes glittered with anger. "The vampire lords have said it. The Werewolf has said it. The small fat one has said it. You have said it. I say it now. You are abused. You, a lost little mortal immortal, are not what you think you are."
Abruptly the cat stood and started to walk away. "Mind speak me when you are ready to believe the truth."
Harry stared at the spot where he had been and hissed in rage. And what would he do if he were wrong! If he had been wrong this entire time. If they had been abusing him and he had let them. Encouraged them. What if Hylaarr and Osset're were right? What if Se'ir was right?
Could he possibly not be human? Could he possibly be vampire somewhere and not know it? His magic swirled around him sadly.
If you aren't one you could be. The whisper seemed to come from outside him this time. Harry didn't look for it. In fact, this time he listened. He could be a vampire, more he could become one. Hylaarr and Osset're had offered.
And they were real. They were real. The lived not far from here. In Scotland no less. How could he possibly have thought they weren't. Oh. Would they be angry? They had tried so hard to get him to understand. He wasn't sure he did but he thought he might one day. Would they want him still?
Why don't you ask? The whisper laughed at him.
Harry laughed with it. He thought he might. He really thought he might. It was such a shock to Harry. He was leaving the Dursleys. He was leaving them for good.
So does anyone know what creature Harry is? I've given you enough hints. Let me know if you do cause next chapter your going to find out.
Also my Betas bailed. Well, actually he's gone to Uni last I heard and hasn't read my last few chapters as far as I know. I would be grateful for anyone who wants to temp or co'beta with him as my last few chapters have sadly been lacking in any polishing whatsoever.
And Painless_J? Anyone have her email? Or can anyone recommend my fic to her? Its one of my dreams to have her rec my fic or at least review it. You know those dreams I keep close to my heart, right along with working for Disney, seeing Harry and Snape declare undying love for each other in DH, and making my fortune in Vegas. I'm bearing my soul here. Can't anyone help?