Harry Potter and the Black Plague

By: EDelta88 and Selonianth

Rated M for language, violence, adult content, and graphic imagery


Chapter 1: Bullies, Brunettes, and Nundus, Oh My!

Harry Potter was nothaving a good day.

He hadn't slept well the night before; he'd had a nightmare about screaming and flashes of green light again. He always had the strangest dreams, flying motor bikes and brooms, people who turned into animals and vice versa, strange flashes of light.

Then this morning, when he had been helping Aunt Petunia make breakfast, he'd burnt his hand on the skillet, he'd had worse but it was still annoying to have his hand sting every time he touched something.

Then, on the way out the door to go to school, Dudley had pulled his hair causing him to stumble and fall off the porch, which had earned him a bloodied elbow and a sore bottom.

Then his teacher had given them a test today, he always hated tests because Dudley would always throw a tantrum if he scored higher than he did and get him in trouble with Uncle Vernon who felt his little clone could do no wrong and therefore he simply musthave cheated.

Then, as if all that weren't enough, Dudley and his gang had decided to chase him (again) at recess and were especially persistent, chasing him all the way off school property and, of course, he got in trouble for leaving school grounds. Of course his principle, Mr. Stavrakes, felt obligated to call his Uncle at work to inform him of his misdemeanor.

"He does it on purpose," Harry muttered to himself, thinking of how Mr. Staverakes seemed to like punishing the children in his school. Honestly, the man had a collection of paddles hanging on his wall!

Then, sure enough, when he got home Uncle Vernon was waiting for him, purple faced and furious… it had been the first time he'd actually hit him. Usually he just yelled and tossed him in his cupboard without dinner, the most he had ever done was slap or spank him with a belt, but today he'd completely lost it. It had been all he could do to scramble out the back door and through the hedge when he'd gotten distracted.

Now the sun was going down, he was lost, he was tired, he was sore, he was hungry, and his lip was bleeding.

"This is the worst day ever," he muttered sitting on one of the swings in the park he'd stumbled on.

Yes, little Harry was having a very bad day, but, as he was about to learn, things can always get worse.

It was then that little Harry's luck chose to desert him... if only for a moment, as a man appeared and threw a glass bottle filled with some sort of greenish smoke at his feet.

"What the-" Harry gasped in surprise, unfortunately inhaling the sickly looking smoke. A moment later he fell to his knees coughing violently and spitting up blood. "Wh-what?" Harry wondered, unable to comprehend what was happening to him. Something swirled inside him, reacting and fighting this foreign presence.

"You just inhaled pure Nundu breath. You're as good as dead," the man sneered. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. You're a remarkably hard child to find." Then the man kicked Harry in his side to flip him over. "Pity, and my daughter is such a fan."

"Wh-ka-what are you t-talking about?" Harry stammered between coughs, feeling incredibly weak as a dull burn spread through his body. What was going on? Why was this happening to him?

"Oh, pity. You don't remember, not surprising I suppose, you were only a babe at the time... Ah well, not like you'll survive to hear the whole story. I'll be praised by every dark wizard around the globe for being the one to assassinate you," the self proclaimed dark wizard, whatever that was, informed the rapidly dying Harry. He looked up to see a girl, not quite a year older than the boy on the ground before him, running frantically toward his downed victim. "Oh look what we have here, a bit of sport attracted by your death rattles. How does it feel knowing what's about to happen to her is your fault?" the man taunted as he turned, pointing some kind of stick at the girl.

Unfortunately for Harry's tormentor, other people being hurt because of him was not something Harry accepted and the boy's magic, that had already been fighting effects of the Nundu's most feared weapon, reacted in a violent, and rather spectacular, way.

Even fate, it seemed, did not want Harry Potter to die just yet as the child, once again, did something no wizard ever had and survived the impossible. In an instant, his magic overtook him, forcing his body to adapt and evolve to combat the thousands of ways the putrid breath was killing him and come out even stronger because of it, becoming an an entirely new breed of magical creature. Evolution incarnate.

Even as the man's mouth opened to form the words that would torment another innocent Harry forced himself up, launching himself at his assailant at speeds his little body should not have been capable of.

The girl who's sanity and life had just been saved, froze in mute horror when the sick boy suddenly jumped on the other man's back gripped his head and snapped his neck as a mass of tendrils erupted from the boy's body, ensnaring the man and absorbing him into the now healthy boy.

"...Are you... alright?" the boy asked, looking up at her, revealing shocking green eyes and a thing scar like a bolt of lightning.

"Y-yes," she stammered, still unable to move.

"That's good," the boy said as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Then, as he was collapsing to the ground, her savior vanished with a swirl of air.

For a long moment, Hermione Granger stood in the middle of her neighborhood park, trying to process just what the hell she had just witnessed.

She'd just been walking home from the library, minding her own business, when she saw a boy in the park coughing up blood. Her daddy had always said she should help people when they're in trouble so she'd started running to him, only noticing the scary man when it was too late.

She didn't know what the man was going to do to her but she was sure he had done something to the boy, that he was killing him, and she was sure he was going to kill her too. Then the boy had done... whatever it was he had done. It had been amazing, and terrifying... and he'd done it to save her.

And now he was gone.

For the longest time, Hermione Jean Granger would think she had imagined the boy with the green eyes and lightning bolt scar. It wouldn't be until shortly after her eleventh birthday when she was reading one of her history books for her year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that she would realize that she had witnessed the attempted murder and disappearance of Harry James Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived...Again.