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Chapter Text

- September, 1987 (7 Years Old) -
- Little Whinging, Surrey, England, Great Britain -

If you asked any of the children at St. Gregory’s Primary School what Harry Potter was like, they would probably look at you and ask: “Who?”

After a little prompting and maybe a short description of him (describing his messy jet-black hair, perpetually broken glasses, lightning bolt scar on his forehead, and poorly fitting clothing) you might receive a more elaborate answer of: “Oh, you mean The Freak.”

On the other hand, if you were to eavesdrop in on what the teachers said about him, you would probably hear their hushed voices whisper: “That poor child, but with an attitude like that…” or “Oh, haven’t you heard?? His aunt told me all about him. She warned me and now I have to keep an eagle eye on him in class so that he won’t cheat or steal.”

However, if you were to ask Harry Potter what Harry Potter was like, he would look at you with his owlishly large green eyes hidden behind ugly, thick broken glasses, hair all mussed and a smudge of dirt on his nose, and he would say, “I’m ordinary. I’m nobody. I’m nothing special at all.”

Harry Potter lived in a very ordinary house, according to the Dursleys and their neighbors, at Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. There was nothing that made Number 4 stand out from any of the other houses at all. (This fact made the Dursleys very proud.) The house had an ordinary fence surrounding an ordinary garden in front of the ordinary house with an ordinary front door.

Despite the ordinariness, however, Harry’s Aunt Petunia could often be overheard speaking to her bridge partner about how her garden was the most fetching on the street. (She maintained, however, it was still well within the bounds of being ordinary.) Harry had a suspicion that the garden was only so well-tended and pleasant because he was the one who was doing all the work. Nevertheless, he would probably never get any of the credit from either his Aunt Petunia or her bridge partners.

The house itself looked fairly comfortable when one walked inside. There were framed pictures on the neutral cream walls of Harry’s Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley. There were more pictures of Cousin Dudley by himself than of the whole Dursley family together. (Obviously there were none of Harry.) Pictures of Dudley were given pride of place on the wall where everyone could see them when they walked into the house. His Aunt and Uncle were so very proud of their Dudders.

The house was spacious enough, with its neutral and ordinary color scheme. In fact, it was so spacious that Dudley was even bestowed two rooms: one for himself and one solely for his toys. Sometimes, when he was able to stop and think about it, Harry wished he had a toy. He obviously did not believe he was special enough to warrant a whole room of toys, since he was so ordinary and forgettable. He did think that having one toy would be nice, though.

As it was, Harry Potter had no toys. He barely had a place to sleep. He should be happy that his relatives even thought to give him the cupboard under the stairs to call home. He supposed they could have followed through on any one of their threats to have him sleep out in the garden shed or any other scary place. Although, when he thought about it, it would probably look bad to the neighbors if they saw a small, somewhat dirty, 7-year-old child living in a garden shed outside of a perfectly normal house. That might make the Dursleys look a little less normal and ordinary to their neighbors.

Harry lived what he thought was a typical life for a 7-year-old. He would wake up with his Aunt pounding on his cupboard door at 5 am, yelling that he needed to get up and get breakfast cooked for the family. She would unlock his cupboard so that he could emerge and quickly take care of his hygiene needs. (Very quickly.) Some days, however, she forgot to unlock the door and then blamed him for not moving fast enough. He hated those mornings. Those were the days that the daily hard strikes across his knuckles hurt the worst. They were also the days he would have to move as quickly as he could so that he would not anger his Aunt further, or worse, anger his Uncle at all.

After cooking breakfast for his family and making sure that they were satisfied, he would do the dishes while they chatted about their day. (He would listen, even though he was still quite hungry himself, having not been allowed to eat anything from the family breakfast.) Sometimes he would imagine chatting with someone about his day, but no one ever really wanted to talk to The Nobody… The Freak. So, he stayed silent.

Dishes done, he would ensure that his morning chores were complete before trying to run out of the house to catch the bus to his primary school. Of course, Dudders often tried to trip him up, either figuratively or literally, so that he would miss his ride. This would, of course, cause him to have to run the many blocks from Number 4 to St. Gregory’s Primary School, usually causing him to be late. Of course his teachers took notice of this. They frowned at him when he rushed into the classroom to sit down. He would drop his eyes to his desktop and slouch down in an attempt to go unnoticed. It never worked. Cousin Dudley always pointed out how late he was and that he should probably get some sort of punishment.

He was lucky to be attending St. Gregory’s though, according to his Aunt and Uncle. (And the teachers… and his Uncle Vernon’s horrible sister Marge.) He should be attending St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, or so his Uncle said. Harry wondered why he was not at St. Brutus’s, but he thought it might have to do with the fact that he was not considered “criminal” enough. He was not quite sure what that entailed, so he would have to do some more investigating as to what a “criminal” was.

Maybe that school would be better than the one he currently attended. They probably did not throw rocks at you or play “Harry Hunting” or push you down to the ground when you passed them by. Maybe they didn’t treat you like a Freak. When Harry first started attending St. Gregory’s, he thought he might get a small break from people treating him in such a hurtful manner. Unfortunately for Harry, though, he found that all of those hurtful behaviors from inside his home were in the outside world as well. And they became quite… ordinary.

Between ducking away from the other children on the playground who liked to hit, punch and kick, and keeping his head down in class so that his teachers did not sneer or turn their noses up to sniff at how positively odd he was, Harry tried to stay out of trouble as much as he could. His life at Number 4 consisted of being as quiet as he could in order to avoid any undue interaction with his relatives. If he completed all his chores, and did not make any noise, they often forgot his existence. This only came back to bite him in the rear a couple times when he was out gardening after dinner and his Aunt and Uncle locked him out of the house, forgetting that he existed.

Now, Harry was not necessarily sad that they forgot about him, it was just a cold evening and he ended up having to huddle under the bushes to keep warm. (Spoiler alert: the bushes did not provide much warmth at all.) The next morning the whacks on his knuckles were extra hard because he had purposely hidden away from Aunt Petunia (according to her) and was a “filthy, naughty little Freak.”

One day, while Harry was running away from his Cousin and his Cousin’s horrible friends (because, although they were relishing the current game of “Harry Hunting”, Harry was definitely not enjoying it at all) he ducked into a wonderfully ancient looking, huge building. Swinging the doors open, he quickly dashed inside and shut them quickly behind himself. The smell of rich musty old books and a bit of dust immediately hit his nose. Harry looked around and noticed rows and rows and stacks and stacks of books. It looked like there was a book on every subject in the whole world in this building! He never got to read enough in school. The teachers said he was consistently being antisocial by keeping his nose in a book (whatever that meant) and needed to interact with others more. (This usually led to more people sneering at him and calling him a Freak. Frankly, he thought, if that was “interacting”… they could keep it!)

Harry gasped as he walked further into the building. Looking to his right, he saw a large wooden desk with a thin-ish, older woman behind it. Her hair was an ashy gray and piled high in a frizzy, messy bun on her head. (Harry would later describe her hair as more of a gunmetal shade of gray – his favorite color – but he hadn’t quite forayed into the world of firearms at this point in his young life.) She had a colorful polka dot bandana tied around her head to match an equally garish colorful beaded necklace. Her dress was more like a smock, Harry supposed, tie-dyed with pinks and purples, oranges and blues. Harry quite liked the way that she looked. She did not look… ordinary. Not at all.

She regarded him with kind eyes and a soft smile and beckoned him over to talk with her. Harry slowly walked forward, making sure to be quiet and seem respectful. He did not want to do anything that might make her tell him to leave this wonderful place with all these books!

“Hello there, young man,” the kind looking old lady said. “Welcome to the Little Whinging Library. Did you come here alone?”

Harry peered up at the woman through his messy bangs that had fallen in his eyes. “Yes ma’am. I was just running by and thought I might stop inside this building. You have a lot of books in here.” He looked around again as he said that, his eyes growing larger as he saw just how vast the number of books really was.

“Yes, we do, young man. Do you have a library card?”

Harry looked back at the woman in confusion. “No ma’am. No, I don’t. Do I need one to be inside this building?”

The woman gave a slight chuckle, her eyes crinkling at the sides as she continued to smile at him.

Harry felt something uncomfortably warm inside him at the smile. He did not know what was making him feel that way. Upon consideration, historically he did not really know what to do when someone smiled at you. It hadn’t happened that often in his short life. He wasn’t too sure he liked it, as it made him feel a little embarrassed. Feeling a little awkward, he figured he would treat it like everything else and ignore it. After all, it was easier to just not take notice of any of his feelings. (Besides, the Dursleys never took any notice of him having feelings about anything.) Strong feelings, or really any feelings coming from Harry, according to Aunt Petunia, were just too “freakish” … just like him. They were not ordinary and just not done.

“You do not need a library card to be in here, no, but you do need one if you are going to take any of the books home with you to read,” she explained to him.

Harry snapped his head up in surprise. “You mean I could take one of these books home with me? And you wouldn’t yell?” He exclaimed in awe.

She nodded and explained that he would need to have an adult come and fill out a library card and sign it for him so that there would be a record of where the books were going. This would also show where they could reach him if one of their books did not get returned in time.

Harry’s heart sunk at that news. No adult he knew would sign for him to have a library card. His Aunt and Uncle would certainly not sign anything for him. He offered to give his address (as he was smart and had learned it a two years earlier) but she kindly, yet sternly, insisted that an adult would have to sign for him.

Despondent at the news, Harry felt all his dreams of reading these wonderful books slipping through his fingers. The woman looked down at Harry and said, “You know, just because you can’t take a book from the library to your house, young man, does not in any way mean that you cannot enjoy reading it while you are here.”

Harry looked up at her with a kernel of hope growing in his chest. He could stay. He could stay here and read! He could stay here, away from those horrible children who wanted to hurt him, and read to his heart’s content. Here, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would not find him. Here, Dudley and those horrible children would definitely not find him. And here, maybe, just maybe, he might find a little reprieve from his life.

The nice lady took him from place to place in the library, giving him a tour and showing him all the sections of the different genres of books. From fiction to nonfiction. From very hard to read at his age, to very baby-ish books that he had already outgrown. Harry was in heaven.

When she went back to her desk, Harry went to the section where he could find a dictionary. He looked up the word criminal, having asked the nice old lady to verify how to spell it. “Crim-i-nal: a person who has committed a crime. ‘These men are dangerous criminals.’ See also: villain, lawbreaker, evil, bad.”

Harry looked at the definition of the word criminal for a long time. This was what they thought of him? They thought he was bad? A villain? They thought he was evil?

Pondering this, Harry moved from the dictionary to the section where he had seen the wonderful picture stories. He loved comics and picture stories. He didn’t get to read them very often, but it looked like this library had quite the selection. He thumbed through the typical hero books about Batman and Superman, thinking that they were good if you liked that sort of thing. He looked a little longer at Spiderman because it seemed cool to be able to shoot webs from your wrists to incapacitate villains. (And apparently Harry was a villain, so maybe he shouldn’t be rooting for the heroes so much.)

And then, toward the back of the stack, misfiled and pushed behind the other comics after the s’s, there was a comic that caught Harry’s eye. The cover was black with a white skull on it. The skull seemed to be melting, like it was made of white blood or maybe drying paint. Harry wasn’t quite sure. He plopped himself down in front of the shelf, crossed his legs and leaned over the comic book. He had just begun to open the comic when he heard someone quietly clear their throat somewhere close to him. Guiltily slamming the comic shut and jerking his head up, he frantically looked around. He saw nothing there, so he quickly turned his head to the side where another quiet, brusque cough had come from. Harry’s mouth fell open as he took in the man who had made the noise. Standing there, with a stern look on his face, was the biggest man he had ever seen in his whole life.

“Hey, kid.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, kid.”

- September, 1987 (7 Years Old) -
- Little Whinging Library -

Harry’s eyes travelled from the bottom of the man’s dark black boots to the top of his dark black, military style haircut. The man was wearing scuffed leather boots that appeared to have a very hard steel toe in them and had probably walked quite a few miles. His jeans were a dark gray, almost black. There were no visible holes in them, but Harry could tell from the faded spots on them that they had been worn for many years. His shirt was tight and black, but on the front, under the man's crossed arms, Harry could easily see the same picture of the white dripping skull that graced the front of the comic book that he was currently holding in his limp grasp. (Ok, let’s be honest… his shaking hands were barely holding the comic due to his surprise and a teeny bit of fear.) The man also had a well-worn black leather trench coat that came down just behind his knees. On his hands there were black leather gloves that looked like they also had been used for quite a few years.

Harry also noticed, when the man shifted his stance, that there was a black leather belt around his waist that held clasps for suspenders. (Of course it was black leather. Harry was sensing a theme with this man.) On the suspenders he could just barely see the holsters of two guns. (Were those even allowed in here?) When the man moved a little more, Harry could make out more gun holsters and guns strapped to his thighs. (Yeah… Harry was pretty sure that those were not allowed inside the library, but he was not going to be the one to tell this man he had to take his guns outside. Maybe the colorful old librarian would tell the man off about the guns instead of Harry having to say anything.)

To put it mildly, the man was simply huge and quite scary looking. Harry was more than a little intimidated at the sight of him. His arms alone seemed to be the same size around as Harry’s whole head, not to mention his thighs! (As he looked at him, though, Harry had the fleeting thought that he wished that he was that big. As it was, he was the absolute smallest in his year. He was even smaller than some of those a year below him. Harry figured it might have something to do with all the running he had to do to get away from Cousin Dudley and his horrible friends, but he wasn’t too sure.)

Even though the man’s look was quite menacing, Harry had to admit that the man looked pretty awesome. (Harry even kind of wanted a whole outfit like that for himself. The whole black outfit was growing on him. Very intimidating.) He did have to wonder, though, how many guns one person needed. In a library. Surrounded by books. Was the man worried that someone would jump out from behind the shelves? With a slight shake of his head, Harry quickly dismissed that thought. There had to be a good reason that the man had all these guns. He could see (probably) four on this man, but that (potentially) meant that there were more. (And, if Harry was smart in estimating the danger of this man, which we have already established that he is smart, since he learned his address a whole two years ago, he would have to say that this man posed quite the threat to those around him. Including anyone hiding behind the books.) Not to mention, the man might have other weapons hidden on his person too! What was he doing in a library? Even scarier than that, what was he doing talking to Harry?!?

The man cocked his eyebrow, glanced down at Harry and grunted. “You done lookin’?”

Harry scrambled to his feet, dropping the comic in the process, and wiped his hands down the front of his pants to dry off the nervous sweat that had formed when he was looking over the terrifying man. “Erm,” Harry mumbled, “Hi?”

The man snorted inelegantly. “Hi? Yeah, sure, kid. Hi.”

Looking around the room, the big man paused. Harry watched quietly as he took in all his surroundings, trying to make himself as small as possible so he didn’t annoy the man. (Harry was good at making himself seem small and invisible. He had years of practice at the Dursley’s, after all.) He seemed to scan each area quickly. Harry could tell the man was checking to see if something was there. (Or seeing that it wasn’t there, Harry wasn’t quite sure, honestly.) His blue eyes flickered, briefly touching on each other area of the library. He made sure to also quickly look at each of the exit doors under the glowing exit signs. Harry could tell that his inspection paused momentarily on the windows that were high up on the walls, but were propped open due to the unseasonably warm autumn weather. He seemed satisfied with his perusal of the library and turned to refocus his attention on Harry. (Who wasn’t quite sure that he was happy about the man’s undivided attention just yet.)

“Um, who are you?” Harry asked in a meek voice, feeling like his knees were going to give out at any moment due to his nerves. The library may have been a nice place to escape Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Cousin Dudley, but he sure wasn’t expecting to have to trade that security by finding a gigantic, scary murder man!

“Francis, well, Frank. Frank Castle. Nobody calls me Francis. Remember that.” Frank pointed at Harry to emphasize the last statement. He continued before Harry had a chance to do anything more than give a tentative nod.

“Although, some people do call me The Punisher. I prefer that name most of the time since it seems to make people a little more scared of me. And scared people are much more likely to do what I want them to do. Remember that, kid. Keep ‘em terrified and they’ll do whatever shit you want them to. The frightened ones will always do what you want. But, anyway, you can call me Frank,” he replied. He tilted his head to the side, observing Harry as he fidgeted under Frank’s gaze. “And just what do they call you, kid?”

Harry lifted his head and replied, “I’m nobody. I’m just a Freak.” He glanced away toward the end of his introduction and whispered the word ‘Freak’ almost under his breath.

Frank looked him up and down again, glowered some more and, if possible, looked even more menacing. “What do you mean Freak?”

“Well,” Harry said slowly, trying to explain as nicely as possible to the lethal looking man in front of him, “I’m nothing. At least that’s what my relatives tell me. Everyone says that I’m just a Freak. Nothing special at all.”

“Bullshit,” Frank spat out vehemently. “You don’t look like nothin’. And I’ve seen some fuckin’ ugly ass ‘Freaks’ in this world, and you look nothing like any of them.” His eyes seemed to glaze over in thought before he snorted. “Nope, seen some Freaks… you look like a normal-ass kid to me.”

Harry cowered a bit, expecting a cuff across the back of the head like his Uncle Vernon would deliver when he was angry with Harry’s backtalk. “Um, should you be swearing around me so much?”

(Later in his life, when Harry looked back at this first conversation with Frank - who had all those weapons strapped to his person and who was gigantic next to a tiny Harry, a kid of merely 7 – he couldn’t believe that he was ballsy enough to presume to question the fact that Frank was swearing around him. It was probably a bit crazy to question Frank at all. Harry probably should have just assumed that in Frank's life, Frank would be allowed to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, however he wanted and to whomever he wanted. Mostly, because Frank looked quite like he could demolish anyone who said otherwise.)

Frank grunted, crossing his huge arms across his chest again. He looked down his nose at Harry and sneered. “What kind of family have you got that they talk that kind of shit to you? Your parents say those things to you?”

Harry lowered his eyes again. “No, my parents are both dead, sir.”

“Aw shit, kid, I’m sorry that they’re gone. It fuckin’ sucks to lose your family. I should know.” Frank mumbled the last part, making Harry strain to hear the big man's words.

“No, it’s not a big deal, really,” Harry replied indifferently, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug. “They both died in a car crash when I was a baby. My dad, or at least who they think was my dad, was drunk off his arse and my mum was probably high or some such nonsense. At least that’s what Aunt Petunia says. She told me that they were filth anyway and the world is better off losing them. I guess they also hated me, but I don’t remember back then, so I’m not really sure." Harry shrugged again. "She says that’s what explains me, the freakish nobody that isn’t wanted because of who my parents were and what they made me into. That does explain where I got my scar, though.” At this statement, Harry lifted his bangs from his forehead a bit and showed Frank the scar in a zig-zag shape.

The looming man grumbled as he heard Harry explain about his parents' deaths so matter-of-factly. He looked at the scar and leaned forward, reaching out to touch Harry’s forehead. When his finger made contact, a warm tingly feeling radiated out of where he touched. Harry stiffened. It wasn’t a bad feeling, per se, just weird. He wasn’t used to a touch that didn’t hurt. (It was weird.)

“What do you mean, ‘at least who they think was your dad’?” Frank asked, after straightening back up.

“Oh, um, well according to my Aunt Petunia and my Uncle Vernon’s sister Marge, she’s kind of a cow… but, er, I guess my mum was ‘that sort of girl’ or something. I didn’t really understand it when I heard them talking, but they said that she was a strumpet and probably didn’t even know or care whose…”

Frank quickly coughed and interrupted Harry’s explanation. “Ok, that’s quite enough about what people say about your mum. So, you live with your aunt and uncle. They’re the ones who treat you like dog shit?”

Harry snorted quietly and flatly stated, “Actually they probably treat Marge’s dog Ripper’s dog shit better than me.” After stating this he let out a little gasp and flinched in preparation for a hit. “Oh! I didn’t mean to swear like that! I’m sorry, sir!”

Frank chuckled a little, ignoring the flinch. It was a deep, gravelly noise, almost like he didn’t do it that often and his throat was unused to making that sound. It made Harry curious as to why it was so gruff.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. Swearing just adds spice to your language, like pepper or some other type of crap. Stick with me and you’ll have a better vocabulary in no time.” He paused for a second, considering Harry before continuing, “What’s your real name, kid?”

“Harry,” he replied quietly.

“Harry what?” Frank prodded.

“Harry Potter.”

“Ok then, Harry Potter, let’s figure out why the fuck your life sounds so shitty. I mean, it’s probably pretty bad, based on what you’ve told me, but I'd like to hear just how bad.”

So, Harry sat back down on the library floor with Frank. He crossed his legs while Frank sat with his back facing the wall and his knees bent. He looked minuscule next to the enormous man, even when both of them were sitting. He started explaining how his life wasn't really that bad at all. He was just a normal and ordinary boy. He told Frank of his relatives and his day-to-day activities.

“Those aren’t activities Harry, that’s slave frickin’ labor.”

He explained his current housing situation at his relatives’ house. He told Frank that the home was quite ordinary and spacious. In fact it was spacious enough for Dudley to have two whole rooms. He said he even got to have his own cupboard to stay in because his relatives were so kind to keep him inside instead of out in the garden shed. Or throwing him away like Uncle Vernon always says they should.

“A cupboard is NOT a normal ‘housing situation’! Jesus Christ on a fuckin’ crutch, Harry. And throw you the hell away?? What the fuck even is your life?” Frank dragged one hand down his face when he mumbled this. Harry assumed that Frank had probably just not seen many cupboards where he was from and therefore did not realize that it was quite normal for someone to live in one.

And, finally, he told of his life at school and how he tried to stay out of everyone’s way so that he wasn’t a bother to anyone.

Frank bunched his hands into fists, causing the leather of his gloves to creak slightly. His eyes narrowed and he gritted out, “A damn bother? You mean like you do everything for everyone and they think you’re in the way?”

Frank looked quite put out after Harry had finished telling him about his life. He started ranting about how angry Harry should be with his relatives. It didn’t matter if his parents were trash, Harry should fight for a better life than the one he currently had. Frank explained harshly that Harry should always work to have a better life. He should never let anyone make him feel like he was less than. Like he was a ‘Freak’. He shouldn’t let those people treat him so badly. He should learn all he could to oppose the binds that the people in his life had put on him. He should take them all on, make them pay. And, if he couldn’t do it all just yet because he was too young, then he should at least start to educate himself on how the fuck to survive better so that he’ll be stronger than them later.

Last, but not least, he told Harry that he should learn for himself what really happened to his mum and ‘dad’, and not just take what other people said as the truth. “People tell lies all the time, Harry. People who want something from you or who think they are better than you will always twist the truth to their advantage. Remember that, everyone lies. You have to be the one to find out the truth yourself. Never blindly trust what anyone says.”

Harry didn’t quite understand the big issue. (Other than maybe finding out the whole thing with his parents. It would be kind of nice to actually know what really happened to them and if that man his mum was with really was his dad.) Yes, he had to adjust some of his daily activities in order to avoid getting hit more by Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia. (Thinking about it, they didn’t seem to hit Cousin Dudley at all.) True, he had to run a little faster to escape Cousin Dudley and his cronies, who liked to beat him up before, during and after school. (The other kids didn’t really have to worry about getting beat up on the playground at all. And, if something did happen to the other kids, the teachers would help them, but not him.) Ok, so he did do a few more chores than Dudley did. (Read: Harry did all of the chores and more, while neither Aunt Petunia nor Dudley did any.) And the more he thought about it, it would be nice to have a little more room to stretch out, as opposed to staying locked in a cupboard. And he would maybe like to have a bed. (Dudley had a really soft looking bed. Harry bet that it was very nice to sleep on.) And, ok, yes… he would like to get to eat meals without having to steal food after the rest of the family had eaten their fill. Well, he would like to eat. (Everyone at school and at his house ate regularly, the only person who didn’t seem to get food was him.)

The more Harry thought about all of this, the more he started to agree with Frank’s thoughts. He wondered if his life was actually as ‘normal’ as he had always thought.

Chapter Text

He wondered if his life was actually as “normal” as he had always thought.

- September, 1987 (7 Years Old) -
- Little Whinging Library -

Harry glanced back up at Frank after he thought a little about what he had said. Before meeting Frank and having their first conversation, Harry had no real feelings either way regarding his life and how he was treated. Frank’s words, however, started to bring forth a new kind of feeling inside him. A burning feeling. A weird feeling. This feeling seemed to be growing in his chest. He wasn’t quite sure what to call this feeling, but he knew he wanted to keep it. He wanted to nurture it. He wanted it to grow. He knew that somehow it would help him later as he figured out how to change from his current ‘normal’ to a different, better one.

“Yes, you might just have a point there, Mr. Frank.” He shook his head slowly as he pondered his life. “I might not be treated as normally as I thought. In fact, my life may not be so ordinary after all.”

Rolling his eyes, Frank sighed. “Really? Well shit, kid, what gave you that idea? And for fuck’s sake don’t call me Mr. Frank. I’m not like Mr. Miyagi or anything. Just, you know, call me Frank.”

Harry huffed out a breath and looked at Frank. “Not to be nosy, but why are you here?” (Frank had, after all, gotten to hear most of Harry’s story, so Harry figured he might get to hear a bit of Frank’s story too. It was probably better than the comic book.)

The large man looked around the library, then exhaled and scrutinized Harry’s small form. No one had come close to them while they were talking. In fact, no one else seemed to even notice the huge man with all his leather and guns. Harry thought that someone so big and scary would stand out. He must have extra practice at hiding from people… just like Harry at the Dursley’s.

“I needed to escape for a while, and ended up in Surrey. There were some… people who didn’t agree with what I was up to in London, so I had to hightail it the fuck out of there. I happened to be on the road and I watched you running from some little assholes. So, I followed you in here. You looked pretty pathetic sitting there all tiny and ragged. I figured I might be able to steer you in the right direction. Maybe help you out, or some such rot.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowed his head slightly and closed his eyes for a second. “Jesus H. Christ, Frank. You’re fuckin’ gettin’ soft in your old age,” he grumbled softly to himself.

“What were you doing that they didn’t like?” Harry asked quietly, ignoring the fact that Frank apparently thought he looked ragged and pathetic. He understood that. He supposed he did look a bit mussed from running from Dudley and his friends.

The big man next to him stiffened and turned to look at Harry. Eyes narrowed to near slits, Frank stared at him hard and unblinking. His fixed gaze never wavered from Harry’s face, and it seemed an age before he even took a breath.

Harry doubted he would have lasted that long holding his breath. Frank was apparently really good at holding his breath and not even showing it. Harry wondered where he got that skill from and if he could learn it himself. Harry probably would have passed out by now. Maybe Frank could teach him. (When he wasn’t quite so ‘glare-ey’ of course.) When Uncle Vernon choked him, sometimes Harry would lose his ability to take any breaths at all and his eyes would get all sparkly on the inside. That was when he knew he would probably pass out. (He had done it a couple times before.) He also knew that his Uncle Vernon held his breath sometimes when he was getting very angry at Harry, usually because Harry hadn’t done something right. But Uncle Vernon’s face would turn very bright red during those times… almost purple. Harry didn’t know if his own face turned purple when he held his breath for a long time. He would have to investigate that.

Frank’s face, however, was not purple. Frank’s face was not even a light pink. It seemed completely normal and white, and blank of any expression except for the harsh glare that was currently pointed in Harry’s direction. “That’s classified.”

Shrinking back a little under the glare, Harry hoped that he had not said the wrong thing. Frank seemed an alright person. (For being a ridiculously over-armed and equipped, gigantic, possibly angry, potentially vengeful murderer, that is.) He didn’t want to lose the first person to ever really have a whole conversation with him. (Frank hadn’t even hit him once!) And it sounded as if he might even want to help out Harry with getting his life fixed. (Apparently NOT like Mr. Miyagi, though… whoever that was. Harry would have to ask Frank when his eyes didn’t look like they could freeze Harry in place.) Harry’s eyes slanted over to where the comic book had fallen, and he gingerly reached out to pick it back up. He looked at the front cover and back at Frank’s shirt. Maybe he should avoid the escaping question altogether and try to get him to answer why he was wearing the same skull as his comic book.

“Um, not to be rude, but why does your shirt have the same skull as the picture on my comic?”

Frank snorted. “Probably cus it’s a book about my life, kid, or what they think was my life. Fuckers.” (Harry thought that Frank sounded quite grumpy about whoever ‘they’ were. And with the number of guns that Frank had visible on his person, Harry thought that ‘they’ better hide.) “Didn’t want them to make it, stupid people. Corporate assholes, fame mongers and money-grubbing bastards. Do anything for a buck. Not only that, but it makes it a damn sight harder for me to get shit done right and be inconspicuous if people know all about me. Don’t be like them, kid. Always be honest to yourself about who you are. Fuck whatever other people think. Don’t be a damn sellout. You’ve got your honor and your pride. Lose those and you’re pretty much worth shit,” he grumbled in frustration.

Harry glanced down at the comic, desperately wanting to open it up and look at it now. If it was Frank’s story, it had to be pretty cool. After all, he looked awesome with all his guns and black leather. And Harry figured anyone who would bring at least four weapons into a public library had to have something interesting in their background, or at least some neat stories to tell.

Following Harry’s gaze, Frank grunted and rolled his eyes again. “They didn’t even get it all right, just so you know. They made up a lot of shit. They made me seem like something I’m not, and they blamed me for a lot of stuff I didn’t even do.” Here Frank paused, then curled his lips into a sardonic sneer and said, “Although, they missed a lot of stuff I did do, so I guess it all evens out somehow.”

Harry looked at Frank in awe. “Um, could you maybe tell me some of the things that you’ve done? I didn’t read it yet, so I don’t know anything. I mean, you look like you’re a soldier or something. I’ve never met a soldier. Actually, I’ve never really met anyone that would talk to me like a regular person. Everyone just ignores me, mostly, or hates me.” Harry shrugged with his last comment. “Hey, why do you sound American? Are you from there? If you are from there, how did you get here?”

Putting his hand up to stop Harry from spiraling further into the interrogation, Frank quieted him with a sharp gesture. “Christ, kid, give me a break with all the questions there. I ain’t goin’ away just yet. And, sure, what the fuck, I’ll tell you some stories. They’ll probably help you think about how you want to make your own life better. Maybe they’ll even help you get some revenge of your own.” Frank sent him a small smirk, assessing Harry as he said the last statement.

“But you were a soldier, weren’t you?” Harry asked excitedly. “You kind of look like one. And you have all those guns.”

Harry leaned in closer to the man’s side, trying to see one of the guns held in the suspender holster under Frank’s coat. Frank pushed him back into his previous upright seated position. “I’ll show those to you later on, but only when I think you’re ready.”

Harry harrumphed a little. He felt he was already quite ready to see the cool guns that Frank had.

Frank chuckled at his antics. This time the chuckle was not quite as gravelly, but Harry could still tell that he probably didn’t laugh that often. This seemed normal to Harry, as he did not laugh that much either. In fact, he could not remember a time when he had laughed. He would have to think on that later.

“Believe me, kid, you don’t want to go playing with something you have no idea how to use. Weapons are to be treated with respect and care. They are not toys.”

Harry nodded his head. “Yes, sir.”

“So, what kind of story did you want to hear?”

Glancing briefly up at the clock on the wall, Harry noticed that he could probably be out for another hour or two before he would be locked out of the house. If he skipped dinner (it wasn’t like he actually got to eat anyway) and stayed with Frank until they were kicked out of the building, he might be able to hear a few stories! “Can you tell me the story of why you carry so many guns?”

Frank went quiet for a minute and Harry thought that he had made him mad again. He really wanted a story, but he didn’t want to make the man angry. Finally, with a deep inhale and a resigned sigh, Frank began to tell his story.

“You were right, kid, I was a soldier. Well, to be more specific, I was a Marine.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Shut up, that’s the difference. There’s a world of fucking difference. To be called anything else is a damned insult, that’s the difference. And if you still don’t know what that difference is, you’ll find out real quick the more you learn from me, kid.”

“I served my country. Learned to fight, learned to shoot and learned to kill.”

“I KNEW you had killed before! I mean who wouldn’t have killed before when they carry all those guns!”

“Yes, you’re very smart. Now shut up. Let me tell this goddamned story without any damned interruptions.”

“I focused on learning all types of weapons. From handguns to Uzis, from AKs to grenades. I eventually used my skills to become a USMC sniper…”

“What’s…”

“United States Marine Corps, kid. Keep up, and again, be quiet.”

“…and worked my way through many missions. I wanted to know everything the Corps would teach me to be a better Marine. I tried to learn it all. Special operations, Airborne…”

“Like planes?”

“Yeah, kid, I jumped out of them.”

“That doesn’t seem all that smart, being that high up and not staying in the safety of the plane.”

“Shaddup, kid.”

“…survival training, explosives, camouflage, stealth, scouting, all types of martial arts and other hand to hand combat. It was easy to learn. Easy to adapt my body to the strain. None of it really bothered me. I would get hurt, but it didn’t even cause me that much pain. They’d try to give me that poisonous shit to dull the pain and my senses, but I’d always refuse. Fuck being off your guard in a fight.”

“I don’t really feel pain that much either. I don’t think I’ve ever had any of that ‘poisonous shit’ to help with the pain that I did have. In fact, I think at some point, if you get the same ‘hurts’ over and over, they just stop hurting altogether.”

“Probably.”

“They worked me in the Middle East in a lot of covert assignments. I would be gone for months at a time. My family would stay at home during my missions.”

“You have a family? Where are they?”

“Dead.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“I came back to New York to visit the family between missions in Iraq. Had some time saved up. Decided it would be a nice break for my wife and kids. Had a son and a daughter. He wasn’t that much older than you, I suppose.”

“I’m seven.”

“Shit, seven? You’re pretty scrawny for seven fuckin’ years old.”

“Yeah, well, I run a lot.”

“Hmm.”

“One of the weekends I was back I decided to take the family to Central Park. Before you rudely interrupt again…”

“I’m trying not to.”

"You're not doing a very good job."

“…I’ll tell you that is a park in the middle of New York. Took the whole family like we usually do, and a good friend Russo. He didn’t stay the whole time. When he left, I noticed some huge gang activity going down. The cops were there for a sting operation.”

“A what?”

“A sting operation. Where you stake out your prey, wait until they are vulnerable or have messed up, then attack. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you all about them.”

“Good, they sound fun.”

“Yeah. Some can be. Some, not so much.”

“Well, it all went ass and tits belly-up when the shooting started.” Frank paused and lowered his head, dropping his slightly clasped hands in-between his knees. He took a deep shuddering breath and continued on, “They got hit. All three of them. My beautiful fuckin’ wife and my two amazing kids, dead. My fuckin’ heart ripped out of my chest right then and there as I watched them go." Harry saw a shudder pass through Frank's body as he said this. "Should have gone with them,” he all but whispered into the quiet of the library.

Harry reached his small hand over and patted Frank on his knee. He didn’t really understand what the big man was going through as he had never really cared about anyone that much, but he had seen one of his teachers pat another student who was having a bad day one time. It had seemed to help that kid. Harry kind of hoped it helped Frank.

Frank lifted his head and quirked one side of his mouth sadly as he looked at Harry. “Thanks.”

Clearing his throat, Frank recovered a slightly more menacing demeanor. “Well, turns out my rat bastard of a friend was a true rat. Helped set the whole thing up. He helped set up a damn massacre. Wasn’t even a real gang issue, they just wanted to get rid of me because of some of the stuff I had learned about while I was on my missions in Iraq. Too bad for them I was the only one to survive the whole massacre. I'll tell ya what, kid, Frank Castle did die that day in Central Park with his family. And on that day, the fuckin' Punisher was born. I made it my goddamn life’s goal to rid the world of all the scum that had any hand in that day’s events. Then, once that was done, I figured I’d keep riddin’ the world of any other filth. So, kid, that’s why I have the guns. That’s why I always have the guns. Cus you never know when you’re gonna need ‘em. And if you live a life like mine… you’re gonna need ‘em more often than not.”

Harry looked at Frank after he finished his story. He thought that was a pretty good reason to carry all those guns, all things considered. Not only that, but the feeling in his chest was growing a little more after listening to Frank’s story.

“Hey Frank, why do you think I feel so funny in my chest when I think about the bad things that people have done to you and me?” Harry asked quietly.

“That’s rage, kiddo. That’s anger. That’s a need for vengeance. I’ll show you how to deal with it. I’ll help you sort it all out.”

Harry hummed to himself in thought. Rage, anger, a need for vengeance. Yes, he could definitely get behind those ideals.

Chapter Text

Rage, anger, a need for vengeance. Yes, he could definitely get behind those ideals.

- September, 1987 (7 Years Old) -
- Little Whinging Library -

“Young man, you’re going to need to get ready to go home now,” the old librarian said quietly to Harry as she approached him.

Harry looked at her quickly and then back at Frank… who had faded into the shadows so that he wouldn’t be seen. (Neat!) Harry could still see him just fine, but apparently the librarian couldn’t see Frank anywhere. Honestly, Harry was pretty happy about that because he didn’t want to be the one to explain the huge Marine with tons of weapons on him that looked like he belonged more in an action movie than in a quiet library.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry replied. He got up off the floor and put Frank’s comic book back on the shelf. (He made sure to put it in the correct spot with the p’s instead of behind the s’s.) Looking back up at Frank, he gave a small wave. “Thanks for the story, Frank. Do you think it would be ok if I saw you again? I would really like to learn about guns and the rest of the stuff we talked about.”

Frank’s lips curled up into a smirk and he gave a small nod. “I’ll be around, kid. Don’t worry. We’ll get you trained up and ready to take ‘em all on. But until I see you again, keep out of sight as much as you can. Try not to let anyone take advantage of you. Avoid any fight that you know you can’t win, and start to think. Think about your life. Think about all of those people who have told you things about yourself that might not be true. Think about things that people have done that hurt you, and have made your life what it is today. Start a list. You have to start somewhere. We’ll work on getting you stronger so that you can become a better fighter, better strategist. But until then, start planning.”

Harry doesn’t remember having smiled so much in his short life, but he knew he was smiling up at Frank right then. He nodded at the big man and then started to walk out the big library doors. Turning to look back once, he saw Frank watching him leave and he waved. Frank didn’t wave back (that was probably not something menacing Marine fighters do) but he did nod again as Harry left.

- Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging -

Later that night, as he huddled in his cupboard, Harry thought about all that Frank had said. He started to list the people who had hurt him. He started to think hard about some of the things that they said to him or about him. Harry sat there thinking about Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and Cousin Dudley, who were all sitting outside Harry’s cupboard watching the telly. He couldn’t hear the program, but it wasn’t like he would know what it was anyway. He had never been allowed to watch anything on the telly. That sort of thing wasn’t for ‘Freaks’. There they were, enjoying their evening, while he was not even able to get out and go to the restroom. To top it all off, his stomach was growling since he came back late and wasn’t able to steal any food before it was binned.

When Harry had come home, they had yelled at him for being gone so long. They said that he should have been there to do his chores and make dinner for them. Harry scrutinized Uncle Vernon’s face as it turned a nice shade of violet.

After being yelled at… (And hit and choked a little – not too bad, really. Could have been much worse. It had been much worse many times before.)… Harry was unceremoniously shoved into his cupboard. The door was slammed and locked. Harry thought that this was probably one of the situations Frank was talking about when he said that Harry needed to make a list of the wrong things that were happening to him.

He figured that Frank probably wouldn’t have been cuffed hard upside the head when he came home a little later than normal. In fact, Frank probably would have just hit Uncle Vernon back with his huge leather gloved fist, stopping any other attack. Come to think of it, with his crazy Marine training, Harry bet that no one could ever hit Frank. Harry wished he could have avoided being hit. It would have saved him from a knot on the back of his head and some new bruises around his arms where Uncle Vernon had grabbed him. Frank probably didn’t even get bruises. Yeah, they were probably scared of him too.

Harry figured that Frank probably would have eaten, too. Harry didn’t get to eat at all after coming home. But after talking to Frank, he realized that he probably should get to eat whenever everyone else did. (In fact, Harry couldn’t quite remember the last time he had eaten a whole meal.) The angry feeling in his chest seemed to grow and grow as he thought about how he had been treated just since he came home from the library. He could only imagine how much that rage would grow when he listed all the stuff that had happened to him from the beginning. Oh yeah, these feelings would grow all right.

He didn’t wonder why this was happening to him. The why didn’t matter. No, he wanted to know how to fix it. He wanted to make it so it didn’t happen again. He wanted to be like Frank and make people who had hurt him pay for what they did. He wanted to know all the things that Frank could teach him. He wanted to learn everything that the man knew. (Maybe not the jumping out of planes thing, though. He would not want to leave a perfectly safe airplane while it was flying, he thought. That did not seem so smart – not that he was going to tell that to Frank again.)

While he was laying there, with ample time to listen to his fat relatives snack on crisps and watch the telly, Harry started his list of each person on which he wanted to get revenge. The whole list wasn’t that long, however it was detailed. And it began with his horrible, lazy relatives. Harry wanted to be ready to show all his work to Frank. (Even though it was just a list in his head.)

1. Uncle Vernon – Mean, Fat (Not that being fat was anything bad, really. Especially if one couldn’t help it. But Harry figured that Uncle Vernon being fat probably meant that he was lazy – which Harry knew already – and therefore added to the amount of work that Harry had to do on a daily basis. So, yes, ‘fat’ belonged on the ‘reasons list’.) Hits hard with his fists and will choke Harry out if he sees fit to do so. (And he often sees fit to do so.) Has really big hands that leave big bruises on Harry’s arms and sides. Says bad things about Harry and his mum and dad. (Harry still needed to look into the whole birth parents thing, so he wasn’t quite sure if it was a legitimate reason to list.)
2. Aunt Petunia – Ugly (Again, not really a reason since it couldn’t be helped, but Harry was feeling a little vindictive and wanted to make sure that when he talked to Frank, he explained his horse-faced ugly Aunt. It might make Frank help him plan her revenge a little differently.) Hits really hard with a wooden spoon or sometimes even a frying pan. (Those times really hurt.) Yells really loud. Is mean to mum and dad. (Again, not too sure if this is justified. Needs further investigation.) She encourages Dudley to fight with Harry, and always takes his side when Dudders hurts him. Makes sure to keep Harry’s never-ending list of chores, well… never-ending. Lastly, she doesn’t let him eat, even though he is the one who makes all the food.
3. Cousin Dudley – Absolute lazy, miserable sod of a boy. Thinks that ‘Harry Hunting’ is a fun game to play with his friends. Has broken Harry's bones quite a few times. (And never been punished for it. Of course not. Dudders would never do anything wrong according to his mum and dad.) Makes Harry do all of his homework. Has two rooms whereas Harry only has the one. (No, Frank said a cupboard wasn’t a real room. It wasn’t a real place that normal people lived.) Blames Harry for everything he does, and makes sure that his parents blame Harry too. Tries to get Harry in trouble with his Aunt and Uncle, leading to more hits, more bruises and even more chores.
4. The Teachers at St. Gregory’s Primary School – Ignored Harry’s requests for help of any kind. Believed other kids before they believed anything Harry said. They were very good at turning a blind eye when Harry got hit or punched by the other kids in his year. They were not good, by any sense of the word, but they weren’t the worst thing in Harry’s life… not by a long shot.

Harry pondered his list. He wondered if he should add Uncle Vernon’s sister, Marge, to it. In the end, he decided that he would make her a special sub-section to the family. A horrible person, but not one who was around enough to make his life hard every day. He decided to leave Ripper out of the whole equation. Hurting animals was just not something he thought he could ever do. Even though Ripper could use quite the attitude adjustment.

Happy with himself, now that he had a decent start to his revenge list, Harry turned over on his small cot in the cupboard. He stared at barren walls that he could barely make out in the dark. Thinking about what else Frank had said to him, he started to wonder how he would start looking into information about his parents. His Aunt and Uncle would obviously be no help there. He would bet a whole day’s worth of food scraps that if he did ask about it, he would get a massive wholloping.

Harry knew that some of his parents’ stuff was left in the house from when he came here as a baby. Well, definitely his mum’s stuff. It might not be his dad. The jury was still out on that one. Aunt Petunia always complained that their stuff was cluttering up her attic, but nothing ever was done about it. Harry wondered why he was never asked to clean the attic of all of his parents’ things, if it really bothered her that much. With that last thought, Harry closed his eyes, tried to ignore his empty stomach and went to sleep.

The next morning Harry’s stomach woke him well before his Aunt Petunia started yelling that he was a lazy worthless child who needed to get up and make breakfast. Based on the lack of screeching, Harry surmised that it was probably not even 4am yet. He sat up on his cot, having to hunch down a little bit to avoid hitting the top where the stairs sloped down. Even though he was fairly small for his age, the cupboard was still such a tiny place with little room for movement. Harry looked longingly at the locked door, wishing that it would open so that he could escape his cramped prison. He bet that if Frank were there, he would just break down the door with his shoulder and rip it off of its hinges. Harry wished, yet again, that he was more like Frank.

‘Think, Harry,’ he said to himself. ‘Frank says to think things through. Don’t let them treat you like this. Do something… anything.’

Sadly, the only thing that he could think of was how much he wished the stupid cupboard door would open for him so that he could use the restroom and get some food! He put his head down in his hands and thought of all the food in the fridge that he would get if he could get out of the cupboard before Aunt Petunia got up. He could vividly imagine making himself a wonderful sandwich or maybe even a tiny personal fry up. (That might cause too much noise. No, better be a cold cut sandwich.)

As he sat there wishing the lock would open, he heard a little jiggle on the other side of the cupboard door. “Hello?” He called out, making sure to keep his voice low just in case it was Frank coming to save him. He didn’t want to alert his relatives if this was a rescue, after all.

The jiggling stopped, and Harry held his breath waiting for it to start again. When nothing happened, he figured he must have been hearing things. He went back to wishing for Frank, wishing for a rescue, wishing for breakfast and wishing for that damn cupboard door to open. The jiggling started again. Harry again held his breath and waited, not wanting to say anything just in case him calling out was why the person had stopped last time. He heard the distinct slide of the lock on his cupboard door move to one side, and he tentatively reached forward to push it open.

As it creaked open, he stuck his head out to see just who was there. There hadn’t been any yelling, so he knew it wasn’t one of his relatives. He figured that Frank might be very stealthy, but he probably would have at least answered Harry. He looked around, but he saw no one. He glanced back into the dark cupboard and then back out into the entry hallway. It wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t asleep. He was really standing here, looking out into the hallway. The door was open!

Harry snuck out of his small cupboard and down the dark hallway, checking regularly to see if this might be a trap to get him in trouble. He tiptoed quietly into the kitchen, toward the refrigerator. He figured that if he was going to get in trouble, he might as well get in trouble after getting some food! (And a sandwich sure sounded good right then!) The refrigerator hummed lowly. Harry grabbed its handle and the door popped open with a little tug.

Light from inside bathed the kitchen, and Harry gazed upon the plethora of food that he had to choose from. He needed to be smart about this, so he only took a little from each thing that did not have to be heated up. A little cheese, a little milk. A little leftover meat from the night before. He grabbed a slice of bread from the breadbox and made himself a cold cut sandwich which was scarfed down in no time. (His stomach felt a little too full since he wasn’t used to having that much food in one sitting. Harry grinned to himself. It was totally worth it, though.)

After finishing his impromptu meal, Harry stood in the kitchen wondering just what had happened to get him out of the cupboard. How did a completely locked cupboard just magically open? There was obviously no one in the house that he could tell. Well, except for his horrible relatives who were still asleep upstairs. And, it was obviously not a rescue since Frank was nowhere to be found.

Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was actually only 2:30am, nowhere near the 4am that he thought it was. Seeing as he had a bit of time before he was ‘awoken’ by his horse of an Aunt, he decided to try to access the attic and look for some of his parents’ things. No time like the present to work on completing his list. Frank would be proud of how much he was investigating.

Harry climbed the stairs, taking care to avoid any creaking spots. He opened the attic door as quietly as he could. Gently closing it behind him, he turned on the light and looked around the room. A fairly thick layer of dust covered almost all of the items, with the exception of some of the Christmas decorations that were used by the Dursleys every year. (Not that Harry got to enjoy the decorations from inside his cupboard, or even got to celebrate Christmas for that matter.)

He made his way through the boxes of stuff, looking for anything that might have to do with him or his parents. Almost ready to give up and head back downstairs, Harry finally made a worthwhile discovery. Back in the corner, behind a stack of boxes labeled ‘Dudley’s Old Toys’, was a steamer trunk with the initials L.J.E. on the front. There was a small lily emblazoned just above the bronze initial plates. He knew his mum’s name was Lily. Harry was proud of his investigating! This trunk just might belong to her!

Slowly, he reached out to the front of the trunk where he assumed a lock would be. He couldn’t see one, but he had to try. As soon as Harry touched the trunk, however, he heard a faint click and the lid popped open. Inside the trunk, resting on the books and items of clothing, was a folded piece of crinkly, yellowed paper. Harry carefully took the paper and opened it.

--------------------
Dearest Harry,

My precious child, I know that if you are reading this, either you have snuck into the storage and your dad and I will probably have something to say about that, or I am no longer with you. If I am gone, my sweet, sweet boy, please remember that you are my heart and I loved you so. Your father and I loved you from the moment you came into our lives. We were so excited about everything you gave us. You were a light in our life, even when the world was very dark. Harry, If we are gone, never forget that you were loved and wanted.

Make sure that you get all of my potions books from your Uncle Sev. And, of course, please do not let Uncle Padfoot play too many pranks on you. (It is ok to play some on him. He will probably deserve it.) But above all, my darling Harry, enjoy your life. Live every day knowing that you were the biggest accomplishment of your father’s and my life.

And, regarding the wills that your dad and I left you, don’t spend all of the money in your trust at once. (Even though your dad and Padfoot would probably want you to. Listen to Moony and Uncle Sev. They will steer you in the right direction.) You will have a full inheritance, so you do not need to worry about money at all. Just, make sure to be responsible. – Your father wants me to say to spend a little extra money on some supplies to prank Uncle Sev. I suggest you think before you start a prank war with him because I have seen first-hand how your Uncle deals with being pranked. Of course, I'm sure that by this point you have too.

Anyway, dear Harry, know that wherever you are and whatever you do, my treasured child, we are so very proud of you, and we love you so very, very much.

Love always,

~ Mum
--------------------

Harry’s grip on the crinkled paper grew tighter and tighter the more he read. His mum had loved him. (He wasn't too sure what love was, but Frank said he loved his family so Harry knew it had to be a good thing. He would ask Frank when he saw him next. Maybe that could be another thing the giant man taught him.) His father had loved him. They wanted him. She said that he was treasured. He wasn’t a nobody to them. He wasn’t a freak. He even had other Uncles somewhere! He had more family! A family that, it seemed, wanted him.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had lied. His relatives had lied… they had lied about everything. Oh, they were going to pay. Harry would make them pay for this. The feeling of anger in his chest grew stronger and stronger. The rage fueled his need for vengeance. Harry looked back down at the letter in his hand, thinking about what he could do to get back at his relatives. About how he could make them pay. Frank would be so proud.

Chapter Text

Frank would be so proud.

- September, 1987 (7 Years Old) -
- Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging -

Harry hadn’t seen Frank in a few days. He had continued to add to his list as he did his chores, avoided being hit by his relatives, and generally stayed out of sight as much as possible. (It didn’t work that well. The fresh bruises on his arms and tender ribs from Uncle Vernon’s fists were proof of that.)

As he tended to his Aunt Petunia’s garden he wished as hard as he could that Frank would show up and tell him about how to get back at all of the people who were hurting him. He wanted to start his payback now. He didn’t want to wait until later. He wanted his relatives, and even on a smaller scale his teachers and school, to pay for what they were doing to him.

He pulled a few more weeds before feeling a prickling on his neck, as if eyes were following his every move. It didn’t feel quite like he was in danger. It was more of a watchful, guarding presence. Harry did not feel afraid and continued on with his chores.

It was getting fairly dark outside, and the light from the living room bathed the yard. He listened to the faint noise of the telly inside, where his lazy relatives were currently enjoying their evening. The dim light did allow him to see what plant he was pulling, though. (Heaven forbid he pull a flower instead of a weed. Aunt Petunia would really not like that, and Harry would be the one to pay the price.) As the feeling of being watched continued, Harry raised his head and looked around, trying to find the source.

There, in the shadows by the trees stood the dark figure of Frank, imposing as ever. Harry felt a smile form on his face at the realization that Frank was here! He hadn’t abandoned him!

Frank walked toward him, observing the work that Harry was doing while shaking his head. “Fuck, kid, what are you doing gardening out here so late? And in the frickin’ cold with no jacket, no less.” He let out a deep growl, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Someone should be lookin’ after you, makin’ sure you’re warm and not outside at fuckin’ o’dark thirty… doing chores??”

Harry glanced down at his clothes and back up at Frank. “Well, I don’t really have a warm jumper of my own. In fact, I’ve never really had my own clothes. Dudley’s old clothes are the only ones I get to use, but I haven’t earned any warm ones for a while.” He tugged nervously at the hem of his huge, dirty shirt before continuing, “Also, I didn’t finish my chores fast enough today, according to Aunt Petunia, so I have to make up for that by being out here until I’m done with the gardening. But! If I finish the garden fast enough tonight, I might be able to get some dinner for the first time in a couple of days.”

He shrugged, wincing slightly when the action pulled on his ribs. “I’m hoping to at least get some of the leftovers. Maybe I won’t even have to get them from the bin.”

Frank narrowed his eyes at the wince then dropped his head and ran one of his hands down his face. “Seriously? That’s… fuck... I don’t even know what to say about your whole situation, kid.”

Harry had learned that his life wasn’t seen as normal to people like Frank, but he still figured that it was better than not having a life at all. Tilting his head to the side curiously, Harry asked Frank if he was really going to help him learn how to get back at people.

He had already decided that he wanted to change how he got treated, when he got to eat, and if he got hit or not. Harry even wanted to make it so that he could get some clothes for himself. (Maybe he could get some clothes like Frank had. Maybe even some guns. He really liked Frank’s outfit. He would look so cool if he dressed like that, and Frank looked quite warm in his getup compared to Harry’s threadbare t-shirt and Dudley’s old castoff jeans.) Yes, Harry was ready for the revenge part to start. He was tired of being treated like this.

Okay, so his life wasn’t normal, like he once thought. It was actually quite horrible, if he really thought about it. (Like Frank told him to do.) These people had done so much to hurt him already. True, he was young, but he was smart enough to know that if he let life go on this way, the abuse from his relatives would get worse. And maybe he would not be able to live through it one day. Right now, though, he knew he couldn’t fight back alone.

As he spoke about his new resolve and reasons for revenge, he hoped that Frank would be happy with how detailed his list was and how meticulous his descriptions were. He was also very excited to tell Frank about what he had figured out by looking in the attic.

He told Frank all about escaping the cupboard (and how weird that was), finding the trunk, and even about his mum’s letter. Harry then showed him the crinkled paper he had been keeping in the pocket of his baggy jeans that held the last (and only) words he had from his mum.

Frank looked at the paper for a long time without saying a word. His face did not indicate any emotions that Harry could see. So, Harry stood there, waiting patiently for something to happen… for Frank to say or do anything at all.

Keeping his face stoic, Frank took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “Ok, kid, we have some options here. You have made a real good list. Real good. One that, honestly, makes me pissed enough to raze everything and everyone in that house to the ground, but this ain’t about me. This is about you and what you want to have happen here. However, I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for thinking about everything and realizing that you need to have some changes in your life. I’m real satisfied that you’ve realized your life is pretty much shit, and it ain’t your fault at all. For realizin’ that even though you ain’t a grown up yet, you still need to take charge.”

Glancing down at the letter in his hand again, Frank huffed out a frustrated sigh. “You see, kid, revenge… revenge is a real personal thing. It’s something that burns inside you, inside your chest. It’s something that makes you want to hurt those who wronged you real bad. To be the one to take your revenge by yourself. Not to have someone else do it for you.” Frank sighed again and shook his head. “But, shit, kid, this whole situation you’re in is just crap. You’re seven fuckin’ years old. It’s gonna be a long ass time before you can pull this off by yourself.”

Harry hunched his shoulders and dropped his chin to his chest in defeat. “So, you’re saying I really can’t do anything? All I can do is think about it, about what I want to do to them? Make lists?” He murmured dejectedly.

“No, that’s not what I’m sayin’. Listen to me, Harry, and listen real good.”

Harry raised his head to look at Frank and give him his whole attention. His large green eyes, behind round, broken glasses, stared unblinkingly at the huge, menacing man in front of him. Twilight framed Frank’s silhouette, dressed in all black with his guns, making him seem more intimidating and ominous. (If that was even possible.) If Harry wasn’t already sure that Frank was on his side, he would have probably been quite scared at this point.

The giant ex-Marine leaned down to Harry’s level so that he could look him in the eyes. “Do you really want to do this now? Do you want to make them pay for how they have been treating you for your whole life? Do you want to get your revenge? Or do you want to wait... have me train you up right so you can get your retaliation on them by yourself later on?” Frank asked slowly and plainly.

Harry’s disappointment from earlier vanished in a heartbeat. Here was Frank, Harry's new (and only) friend, offering the chance for true revenge on his relatives. A genuine chance to get them back for all they had done. Whether he wanted vengeance right then or later on didn’t seem to matter one bit to Frank. The important thing, it seemed to Harry, was that Frank was promising that it would happen, no matter what his choice was. Frank was going to help him either way. Frank was going to follow through on all that he said he would do. Frank was his true friend.

Harry felt a spike of satisfaction in his chest increase with the knowledge that he could get his tormentors back now. Even though he wasn’t old enough, or capable enough at this age to do it himself.

No. He knew what he wanted. Hands fisted at his side, his fringe fell forward as he gave a small jerk of his head. His green eyes took on a darkened glint with stubborn fury.

“Now, I think. I want them to pay now. And…” he took a deep fortifying breath, “I want to watch.”

Letting out a small hum, Frank straightened back up to glance at the lit living room window. He looked back at Harry and said carefully, “You realize that if this really is going to happen… if we really do this, those people in there,” he pointed a thumb at the lit-up living room window, “will be gone. All of them… including your cousin. We’re not going to just hurt them so that they can go on to hurt others later. That’s not how I work, kid. I eliminate completely. I destroy. Are you sure you want that? Are you sure you can live with that?”

Harry thought for a minute about what Frank said. He thought about his life of being bullied, hit, hurt, starved, and controlled. His narrowed eyes grew darker, and his fingernails pierced his skin where his hands were clenched hard at his sides. He glanced down at the blood running out of his small fist and felt… nothing. He watched a single drop of blood fall to the ground. Harry knew being cut and bleeding should hurt, but he felt no pain. He felt detached from his own body.

Instead, he focused on the people sitting inside the ‘normal’ house. He thought about how much pleasure his relatives took in demeaning him and lying to him. He considered all the times they had reveled in hurting him. He contemplated everything that Uncle Vernon had done to harm him. The bruises he had caused, and the times he thought he might die from being choked. Harry mulled over all the lies he realized his Aunt Petunia had told him about his real family. And finally, he weighed all the selfishness, the bullying and the broken bones that Cousin Dudley had caused.

While he weighed all of these things his ‘loving relatives’ had done, the feelings of rage and anger in his chest grew. He found his ‘family’ severely lacking. He thought long and hard if he could handle them being gone forever and having the knowledge that he would have had some part in it. Yet, he could find no pity for what would happen to these people who had done so many horrible things to him. He could feel no remorse over the fact that his relatives would probably not be living in the next thirty minutes.

As he deliberated over all of these things, he felt a blissful calm come over his body. “I want them gone. I want them all gone. And I want them all gone now.”

Frank nodded slowly and handed the letter he was holding back to Harry. He motioned Harry to be quiet and follow him as he started toward the back door. “Ok, do you have anything inside that you want to keep?”

Harry paused to consider his question for a moment. “Um, I think I would like to get whatever I can from that trunk that had my mum’s letter in it. I didn’t know her, but I don’t want to lose the only thing I have of hers.”

Tilting his head slightly in understanding, Frank stopped at the door and held his arm in front of Harry to explain how the situation was going to go. “Alright, I want you to stay out of sight as much as you possibly can once we get inside. Stick to the walls. Make yourself small. Move quickly up to the attic and place what you want to save into a pillowcase or knapsack, if you have one. Once you’re done with that, come back and meet me in the living room. I’ll go in at the same time as you, but I won’t let them know I’m there until you come back down. You won’t need to worry about them by that point. I’ll take care of everything.”

“And I’ll get to watch what you do?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Yeah, kid, I won’t take that from you. This is your show. I’ll make sure you get to enjoy it. You’ll definitely get to watch.”

Harry felt excitement coursing through his veins at the prospect of exacting revenge on his relatives. He didn’t mind that Frank was the one actually pulling the trigger. The main thing was that Harry was there. He was actually there to watch it all happen.

Quietly opening the door, Frank gestured for Harry to precede him into the house. Harry tiptoed past the living room, holding his breath and hugging the wall. He hoped beyond hope that no one would see him.

Luck, it seemed, was on his side for once. He made it to the stairs and was able to sneak upstairs to the attic with no issue. His Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin were totally engrossed in whatever show was on the telly, ignoring anything that didn’t involve their little bubble of oblivious comfort.

As he was climbing the stairs, he glanced over to where Frank stood in the shadows by the door. The man had removed one of his guns from the holster in his thigh, leaving the ones in his suspenders still under his leather trench coat. His face was blank of emotion as he observed Harry’s relatives enjoy their show. He slowly turned to look at Harry and gave a small hand gesture for him to continue up the stairs.

Harry climbed the stairs as quickly and stealthily as possible. He grabbed a pillowcase from the linen closet and went into the attic to gather anything he thought he might want to keep from his mum’s trunk. There was a small black book filled with recipes and weird words. (The ingredients were either fake or really, really gross sounding.) But the book was written by her, so he wanted to keep it. He kept a pretty carved stick that seemed to make his fingers tingle when he picked it up. He kept some other odds and ends he could fit into the pillowcase. Looking at his treasures, he nodded in satisfaction. That would have to do.

Sneaking back downstairs, Harry was not as lucky. He was quickly spotted by his Uncle Vernon before he could even make it over to where Frank was hiding in the shadows.

“BOY! What are you doing over there?!? Have you finished your chores yet? I hope that you aren’t getting any of your freakish filth all over your Aunt’s nice clean floors!” Dudley snickered from his spot on the couch and Aunt Petunia turned her beady eyes on him with a scornful glare.

Uncle Vernon’s face had started to turn red the moment he saw Harry, and continued into a violent shade of purple by the time he had finished yelling. He began to rise from the couch and move toward where Harry was standing. Harry froze in fear, gripping the pillowcase tightly, like a lifeline. Before he could even take one step to run, however, a distinct click was heard in the room. It was loud enough to even be heard over the sounds on the telly. Harry hadn’t heard the sound of Frank’s boots moving at all, but he had certainly heard the distinct sound of the cocking of the gun.

Aunt Petunia gasped and turned to the source of the noise while Uncle Vernon visibly bristled. Dudley squeaked and huddled near his parents to save him. Uncle Vernon whirled as quickly as his obese frame allowed him to face the back door. His blotchy red face pointed to where the sound had come from, zeroing his eyes in on the location of the noise… only to come face to face with the barrel of a gun. (Harry would later learn it was a Kimber Warrior, one of Frank’s favorite sidearms that he had used while he was still in the military when he became The Punisher. Harry would enjoy using it and training with it, but would ultimately choose the Smith & Wesson M&P45 as his weapon of choice. He wanted so much to be like Frank, but he wanted to make sure he had his own signature weapons, too.)

“Who the BLOODY HELL are you???” Uncle Vernon shouted at Frank. Harry thought that if Uncle Vernon's face could possibly get purpler, it would have at that moment. As it was, he figured his Uncle’s face couldn’t get any darker with rage.

“Shut up.” Frank said quietly, in his deep, gravelly voice. Not needing to yell to have the deathly tone in his words be heard. “Sit the fuck back down, you awful man, and shut the fuck up.”

“NOW, JUST YOU SEE HERE…” Uncle Vernon began shouting again, obviously attempting to gain control of the situation. He was quickly silenced by Frank cold-cocking him upside the head with the butt of his pistol.

“No, you see here. Shut up... Sit down. You’re not in charge here anymore,” Frank growled.

Aunt Petunia let out a shrill scream and Dudley promptly curled further down into the corner of the couch, trying to make his fat body seem as small as possible so Frank wouldn’t notice him. Harry chuckled to himself… he knew Frank had noticed him already. Frank was just paying more attention to his Aunt and Uncle right then and would more than likely take care of Dudley later.

Uncle Vernon collapsed down on himself from the hit and stumbled to the floor. He hadn’t lost consciousness, but Harry could tell that his Uncle's head hurt. It probably felt like he had felt that one time Aunt Petunia was actually able to make extra hard contact with a frying pan to the back of his head.

Frank pointed his gun at the injured man again, motioning him to move over to the couch with the rest of Harry’s relatives. Slowly, Uncle Vernon rose and started moving, wobbling a little, while holding the side of his head where he had been hit. Harry hoped his head hurt. He hoped it hurt real bad.

Aunt Petunia and Dudley were quietly sobbing over on the couch while Uncle Vernon, who had finally joined them, was still blustering in anger and pain. Frank didn’t seem to care one bit about any of their current cries and blustering. He held his gun on them while turning to face Harry. “Hey kid, this is your show. You're in charge here, just like I promised. Who’s goin' first?”

Harry considered his relatives, who were finally beginning to grasp the horror of their current situation. How could he make this hurt the absolute worst for them? What would show that he was finally getting his true revenge? What would make them see that he was finally the one who was going to hurt them as much as he could in retaliation for everything they had done?

“What do you MEAN the BOY’S in charge???” Uncle Vernon shouted, clearly forgetting the gigantic and menacing Marine who was currently holding them hostage. “That FREAK isn’t fit to be in charge of a bloody dustbin! He’s nobody!! He's pure filth!”

Frank snarled at him to shut up again then turned his attention back to Harry. Aunt Petunia gasped and a whimpering Dudley clutched at her and lost control of his bladder. Harry snickered at the sight.

“Well, kid?”

“Dudley.” Harry said finally. (The decision was easy when he looked back on it. Dudley was the complete opposite of him in the house, and getting rid of him would clear a lot of his anger.) “He should go first, and his parents should have to watch. After all, he’s so perfect and lovely. They should get to watch how their wonderful little Dudders pays for all the times that he hurt me. For all the times that they told him to do bad things to me, to treat me so horribly.”

Aunt Petunia cried out, grabbing Dudley by the shoulders and pulling him close. (Completely disregarding the fact that Dudders was covered in urine. Harry thought that was quite disgusting of her, really.) “NO! Not my angel! Not my precious baby!! He has done nothing wrong! You leave him alone, you freak! Just like your mum and dad… filth! Not good enough to breathe the same air as us. Your mum was a tramp and who knows who your dad was, you evil bastard child! I should have drowned you when you were left on our doorstep! You leave us alone!!!”

Harry dropped the pillowcase at his Aunt’s words. His chest clenched in anger and his hands balled into tiny fists. His mum was not filth! She was NOT a tramp. Oh, Aunt Petunia would pay… yes, Frank would make sure that Aunt Petunia paid. And it would start right now with losing her 'angelic' Dudley.

Frank watched the emotions pass over Harry’s face until they finally settled on determination. Harry nodded once at Frank and said, “I want to do it myself. I want you to help me do it.”

Studying Harry for a moment, Frank jerked his head in acknowledgement and motioned him over to where he was holding the gun on Harry’s relatives. Uncle Vernon tried to rise from the couch again, presumably to attempt to fight off Frank but he was quickly stopped as the gun swung back into his face and was pressed against his forehead. (It was a completely ridiculous notion, Harry thought, that Uncle Vernon would even be able to do anything to Frank.)

“Fuckin’ move again, fat man, and you’ll be whistlin’ through your forehead,” Frank sneered, baring his teeth at the flabby man with loathing.

Uncle Vernon gulped with visible fear while trying to maintain an unaffected air in front of the man known as The Punisher. (He didn't succeed, in Harry's opinion.) Aunt Petunia whimpered, still holding tightly to her dearest Dudders. And Dudley, much to the joy of Harry, had turned a sickly green and looked quite like he was going to pass out.

“Come over ’ere, Harry,” Frank ordered quietly.

Harry obediently walked over to where Frank stood with his sidearm still pointed at Uncle Vernon's head. He stopped just next to Frank’s arm, glaring over at his relatives. Frank took Harry’s hand while he lowered himself to one knee so that he could line himself up with Harry’s diminutive height. (Although, even with this concession to Harry’s small size, Frank was still way bigger and taller.) The Marine scooted the boy’s body to position him to correctly handle the weapon. Gently grabbing Harry’s hand, Frank guided it to the handle of the gun and helped Harry aim at his Cousin Dudley's chest. Harry’s hand shook a little while he held the weapon with Frank, but the strength of the man behind him, both calming and even, helped hold the gun steady for the both of them.

Aunt Petunia had dissolved further into tears, inconsolable at this point. Uncle Vernon still shouted at them, maintaining that the two of them were freaks who were going to be in so much trouble once he reported this! And Dudley, at whom the weapon was currently aimed, was nearing a catatonic state of fear.

“Ok, Harry, remember to always assume any weapon you are holding is loaded. And never point a weapon at someone unless you are prepared to shoot them. Luckily for us, and quite unluckily for them, this one is loaded and we are quite prepared to shoot them. Keep your eyes open, breathe... evenly press the trigger,” Frank said quietly into Harry’s ear.

Harry grinned and let his gaze follow the aim that Frank had established down the barrel. His tiny pointer finger tried to press back on the trigger. But, he found it was a lot harder to do than he thought. He felt Frank’s finger slide in next to his and then the gun went off, surprising both Harry and his Aunt and Uncle. Harry jumped a little with the shock of the recoil, but he soon settled back to look at his (and Frank’s) work.

He was sure the shot had probably surprised Dudley too, but he couldn’t ask his Cousin anything now, seeing as there was a hole with blood blossoming out of it in the middle of his chest.

Dudley’s dead, glazed eyes remained open in shock. His face, a grotesque mask of fear in the face of facing down the barrel of a gun, stared blankly back at Harry and Frank. Well, Harry assumed it was fear, since Dudley wasn't saying otherwise. His Aunt’s eyes, however, were squeezed shut in horror while she rocked back and forth in hysterics. Uncle Vernon was yelling and trying to climb over Aunt Petunia to where his son was bleeding out all over the couch and down on the floor.

And Harry... Harry just smiled at the whole picture they made.

Frank congratulated him by patting him lightly on the head. “Good job, kid. Nice aim, especially for your first shot. I’m real proud.”

Harry beamed up at him. No one had ever been proud of him before. A warm feeling bloomed in his chest at Frank’s praise. He could definitely get used to this.

By this point, Aunt Petunia’s wails could probably be heard down the block, and Uncle Vernon was yelling so loudly that his face was almost beyond purple. Frank glanced at them and rose to a standing position again. He placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and said, “Well, kid, we need to wrap this up and disappear. I know you wanted to make them suffer, but I think that you probably got that whole point across. Look at ‘em, kid. They get it.”

Harry nodded. He couldn’t even begin to wipe the grin off his face as he replied, “That’s ok, Frank, you should finish for me. You’ll make it good. I know you will.”

Frank smirked down at him and acknowledged the statement as truth. Harry trusted Frank. The man known as The Punisher turned back to the distraught parents and said, “Don’t worry about your kid. You’ll see him soon.” He raised his weapon once more and shot two quick shots into a bawling Aunt Petunia - one in her forehead and one in her heart - effectively silencing her cries.

Turning back to Harry he said, “That’s called a ‘double tap’, just to make sure they’re good 'n gone. We didn’t do that with the little fat cousin of yours, but I knew he was dead when he went down, so it didn’t really matter.”

Harry inclined his head sagely. Frank was so wise. He would learn so much by staying with him.

Uncle Vernon’s face had completely lost its purple hue. Instead, it was now completely ashen as he took in the carnage that Frank and Harry had inflicted on his family. He looked down at his son and wife, both bleeding out on the couch. Then, he looked back in horror at Harry.

“You have taken everything from me, boy. You’re just a horrible little freak. My beloved was right, we should have killed you when they dropped you off at our doorstep. You should have been the one who died instead of my wonderful family,” he mumbled, clearly in shock.

Frank snorted. “Harry didn’t take anything from you, you fat fuck. You’ve taken everything from him, and he’s finally fighting back.” With that said, Frank quickly shot another four shots from his gun - one into each of Uncle Vernon’s knees so that he fell forward onto the ground, one in his forehead so his eyes glazed over, and one in his heart - to finish the whole set. Harry giggled to himself, thinking that Frank was undoubtedly a pretty good shot because Uncle Vernon probably didn’t even have a heart that Harry knew of.

Frank dropped the empty magazine from his weapon, stowing it away in an ammo pouch on his belt. He quickly replaced it with a full one. Looking over at Harry he said, “Remember to count your rounds, kid. Never let yourself go into or away from a fight without having a weapon loaded and ready.”

“I’m going to learn a lot from you, aren’t I Mr. Frank?” Harry asked merrily.

Giving Harry a slight shove and motioning him to pick up the dropped pillowcase of his mum’s treasures, Frank grunted in feigned annoyance. “I told you not to call me that, kid. But, come on, it’s time to disappear. That’s another thing to remember - infiltrate in quietly… destroy everything… leave quickly, with no trace of yourself left behind. No point in stickin' around to get caught.”

Gently grabbing Harry’s hand, Frank steered them both to the back door and out into the night.

“Now what are we going to do?” Harry asked, excited to escape, and so very, very happy to be free. He looked up at Frank with hero worship in his eyes. “What will we do now?”

“You ever been to New York?”

Chapter Text

Mrs. Arabella Doreen Figg lived a quiet, ordinary existence, in her opinion. Her life consisted of keeping her cats happy and healthy. (They were wonderful creatures, cross-bred with kneazles.) Her favorite hobbies included breeding her delightful cats, watching her cats, petting her cats, and taking photographs of these cats to keep for display around her house. Frankly… her favorite things revolved around just focusing on her cats. They really were quite lovely creatures, and much more important to her than humans.

Mrs. Figg figured that she had earned her lifestyle after she worked hard for the Order of the Phoenix in the first Wizarding War. She may have just been a squib, but she did her part, for Merlin’s sake! Even the esteemed Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was so pleased with her efforts that he gave her this most important special task. A task that she could happily say fit in well with her current desire to live out a peaceful life in the muggle world… taking care of her cats.

She followed the same routine every day, enjoying the simplicity of her life after the war. Waking up early every morning, she looked out her kitchen window. From that vantage there was a decent view of Wisteria Walk, where her house was located. She lived close to Privet Drive in Little Whinging, which was good for her current task from the Headmaster. She would gaze out to see the happenings of the neighborhood, and maybe, if she timed it right, see a small boy running to his primary school, attempting to make it on time. She would smile to herself with the knowledge that the little boy was doing just fine. Then, she would turn to focus back on her precious cats.

Yes, life was quite simple and perfect. She was doing her duty, according to Headmaster Dumbledore. She was keeping guard. Her job was important. She was ensuring that the little boy lived a normal, ordinary life.

As part of her appointed duty, Mrs. Figg watched over the young Harry Potter. The Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived. The Savior of the Wizarding World. (She had been bestowed with a very prestigious task, if you asked her.) She was very proud of herself for a job well done. Reporting regularly to Headmaster Dumbledore about the status of the little boy, she took the responsibility very seriously.

She even had the boy over to her house to stay when his muggle relatives were unable to watch him. He always looked a little disheveled with his dirty face, too large filthy clothes and broken glasses. But, she assumed that he was just a small boy being a small boy. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

When Mrs. Figg brought young Harry’s general appearance up to Headmaster Dumbledore in one report, he assured her that in no way was it out of the ordinary for small muggle children to look like this. He told her not to worry one bit. It was simply a child being a child. A muggle being a muggle. They were, after all, brought up differently than in the wizarding world.

Mrs. Figg nodded at the wise wizard, figuring he would be the one who knew best. After all, he was the one who put Harry into that house, and Headmaster Dumbledore would never do anything to hurt their Savior. He was the boy’s guardian! He always had the Savior’s best interests at heart.

Late one evening, after the sun had set and the dinner dishes for herself and her beloved cats had been taken care of, Mrs. Figg sat down to watch a little telly with Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty. Suddenly, over the noise of the show, she heard a commotion coming from outside. Unaccustomed to anything out of the ordinary happening in Little Whinging, she immediately went to the window to see if she could find out what was going on. There, in the road, were four panda cars with their blue lights flashing and what looked like at least ten constables milling about in front of a house.

Her heart dropped.

That was a house Mrs. Figg recognized immediately. That was the house of a small boy. A small boy that she was tasked to watch.

Quickly grabbing her housecoat and a proper headscarf, she bustled out the door and down the street to the house of one Harry Potter and his relatives. She had to find out what was going on. More importantly, she needed to be able to explain this all to Headmaster Dumbledore!

One of the constables stopped her from getting beyond the yellow line surrounding the home. “Sorry, ma’am, a crime scene investigation is in progress. No one allowed past this line,” the muggle constable told her. (He quite looked like he was still a child, and Mrs. Figg wondered briefly if his mother knew that he was out this late at night.) He then turned to look back at the comings and goings from the house, dismissing Mrs. Figg as merely a nosy bystander. At this point the ambulance had come and they were bringing in the gurneys to deal with those inside.

Mrs. Figg nodded, her fingers fidgeting restlessly in her coat. “Is everyone ok, though? Are the children ok?”

The constable stopped staring at the medical personnel who were entering the house and turned back to face her. “What do you mean, children?”

The dread in her chest grew as she told the constable about the respectable family that lived in number 4 Privet Drive and how there were two little boys who lived there. She said that, yes, one was a nephew, but they were a normal family of four seemingly ordinary people.

The constable wrote her information on his notepad, along with everything that she could tell him regarding the family.

“You never told me if both of the children were ok,” Mrs. Figg whispered before the constable could leave. Deep down, she already knew the truth, but she needed to hear it with her own ears before she could pass it on to Headmaster Dumbledore, and through him… to the rest of the wizarding world.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I cannot tell you about an ongoing investigation…”

As he was speaking, the medical personnel began to bring out gurneys with body bags on them. Mrs. Figg noticed a very large body bag, one that was obviously for the boy’s uncle. A second body bag followed out. It had to belong to the aunt as, even though it was thin and smaller than the other one, it was still adult-sized. The third, and last, gurney to come out of the home held a smaller body bag, one for a child. Her breath hitched as she hoped to Merlin that it was not who she thought it was. But, upon inspection as the gurney passed by, there was no way that the body of tiny Harry Potter was in that last body bag. It was way too large. It had to belong to the fat muggle child that lived in number 4 Privet Drive.

The constable told her gently, but firmly, that she needed to vacate the premises so that the investigation could continue. There would be more news later on, but she needed to let the constables do their job.

Relieved that young Harry was not one of those in a body bag, but still very worried about the state of the young Chosen One, Mrs. Figg started back to her home on Wisteria Walk at a quick pace. If the constable had no idea that there were two boys living in that home, just where had Harry Potter gone? She needed to inform Headmaster Dumbledore of this situation immediately.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin (First Class), Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot sat regally in his chair observing two of his most trusted staff.

Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor and his head of Gryffindor House, and Severus Snape, Potions Professor and his head of Slytherin House, occupied two stiff-backed chairs in front of his ancient wooden desk. They were in his office to bring forth some issues regarding an inconsequential fight where spells were fired between a few of the students in their houses. (Just children being children, really. He shouldn’t even have to say anything about it.)

The Headmaster knew, of course, that the Slytherin students were at fault. (No matter what Severus said, Albus’ Gryffindors would never do anything wrong.) But in fairness, he supposed he should listen to both sides. (After all, Albus Dumbledore is known, if he is known for anything – besides being the strongest wizard of his time, wielder of the Elder Wand and the defeater of the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald, of course – for being both impartial and fair.) So, he would sit there and listen patiently, his eyes twinkling madly, as they both fought valiantly for their charges. He would let them talk for a while, exhausting their arguments, before he told Severus that the Slytherin students would need to serve a week’s detention with Argus Filch. (Because of course they were the guilty party. They were Slytherin.)

While the two professors were discussing the current situation (read: arguing loudly about which student had fired the first curse in the hallway), Albus’ floo suddenly flamed to life, surprising all occupants of the office as it was quite late for any visitors – especially ones coming to the Headmaster’s office.

Rising from his chair, Albus walked over to the fireplace, only to see Mrs. Arabella Figg’s face pop through.

“Headmaster!” She cried, obviously distraught.

Albus rolled his eyes internally, this was probably over some small, inconsequential thing. The woman was often hysterical over even the littlest blip in her observation of their Savior. She was always going on about how the subject of her surveillance was potentially being mistreated – honestly, that woman.

Albus sighed. This would probably be an annoying visit. He already knew what was going on there, thank you very much. He was Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfr… well… he knew all his honorifics. (As did the rest of the wizarding world, thanks to his propensity of introducing himself with all of his titles.) To imagine that he did not know what was going on in a situation regarding the Chosen One would be tantamount to ridiculous.

Needless to say, he was not surprised that she was in distress, merely annoyed that she chose to pop through when there were witnesses to her panicked state. Both Minerva and Severus had stopped their argument and now gave their whole attention to the conversation in the floo.

Sighing again in frustration, Albus asked, “What is the matter, Arabella?”

“Oh, Headmaster! Headmaster, it’s simply horrible! It’s just awful! Those muggles, those poor muggles… they’re…” Mrs. Figg exclaimed, tapering off with a shudder. She brought her trembling hand to her mouth in worry. Dropping her voice, she whispered, “Albus, they’re dead. Murdered. All of them... dead.”

A gasp from Minerva sounded behind him and he could hear Severus stand to join him near the fireplace. Hand fisted at his side, out of sight of his two professors, Albus felt a spike of frustration and dread at having to deal with the fallout of this new situation.

Now, Albus Dumbledore was a smart man. One could not get to his station in life without knowing how to turn certain bad situations to his benefit. Obviously something bad had happened at the house that their Savior was currently residing, but he could work with this. He could find some way to twist this into his favor. He would need to be quick in thinking about his response to this situation, though, in order to reap the maximum gain.

“Calm yourself, Arabella. Come through and tell me all that happened,” he said, motioning her to step into his office through the floo. He made sure to keep his face kind and open and add an extra twinkle to his eye, just to help calm those in the office. He couldn’t let anyone see that this had potential to be very bad for him and his plans.

Arabella leaned away from the floo, disappearing for a moment, then she stepped through into his office. She looked quite disheveled, wearing her housecoat and a mussed head scarf. Obviously, the woman was not expecting to be seen in polite company this evening. Glancing at the two other professors in the Headmaster’s office and quickly disregarding their presence, she began the tale of her evening’s events. Finally, after all of the details had been told and reiterated, due to having to explain some of the muggle terminology to both himself and Minerva, the questions and accusations finally started flying.

“I TOLD you, Albus! I told you that he was too important to put in that house! We should have never allowed him to stay with them!” Minerva exclaimed.

He glanced at her over the top of his half-moon glasses, twinkling eyes dimming. “Minerva, this was not their fault. Young Harry Potter’s relatives are clearly the victims here. And our poor, poor Savior. They were a good family to Harry. They obviously loved the boy if they sacrificed their lives for him.” He hummed quietly in contemplation before continuing. “Just like his parents.”

He could definitely use this angle. They could use this as yet another sacrifice for the child. Yes, that boy would be the most loved and cherished hero of the wizarding world. If his whole family would sacrifice themselves for his safety, then he would easily be guilted into fighting for the Light's cause. After all, the boy’s parents were firmly for the Light. (Or so that's what the wizarding world believed, thanks to Albus’ subtle hinting and overt claims.) Harry would become so malleable, able to be formed into an impressionable child who was needed to win this war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. A war against the Dark forces of the wizarding world.

Albus knew that Voldemort had not been truly vanquished that evening at the Potters' home. (How could he have been? He wasn't even there, but Albus wasn’t going to tell anyone that.) He was still out there, building forces and biding his time to attack. (Probably. It didn’t matter that he had never actually attacked. Albus could simply tell that Tom Riddle was that sort of boy. The sort that would cause all sorts of harm. Yes, better to just get rid of him before he could cause trouble for the Light.)

Yes, yes, this plan just might work. Now he just needed to find the blasted Chosen One before the whole wizarding world figured out that he was missing. It would put a major crimp in his plans if the boy had gone and gotten himself killed.

“We must ensure that this news does not get out to the public. There are those who want to hurt him, who would do anything to find out his location. We absolutely cannot let the any Death Eaters or Dark wizards know that Harry is not behind the safety of the wards. We need to focus on finding the boy, wherever he is. And we need to bring him back safe and sound as soon as possible. He is probably scared and needs a helping, guiding hand to bring him into the way of the Light,” Albus said gravely.

“You told me he would be safe! You told me he was in a loving and caring home where they were teaching him all about his future and where no harm could come to him. You told me that the wards would protect him! I cannot believe you sent him to that house. Had I known that all those years ago, I would have fought you more over his guardianship. He should have been in the wizarding world from the beginning, Albus,” Severus protested. “I would have taken him in after Lily and James died. You know we didn't show our relationship to the outside world for political reasons, but I was their friend. I was Lily’s best friend. I promised her that I would take care of her little boy. I wanted to keep him with me; I told you that. Her sister hated her and all that she had in her life. I can only imagine how they hated that little boy, no matter what you say. And if it couldn’t have been me that got to be his guardian, I know that even Black or Lupin would have been a better choice for his guardian… and for me to admit that is saying something, especially after what Black did.” (Not that Black had actually done anything wrong, but Severus wasn't supposed to know that.)

“Now, Severus, you know the boy needed to be with family. You had your job to do here and for the Order. We could not have you stretched too thin, my boy. You know that with the threat of Voldemort’s return we needed young Harry to be behind the blood wards provided by his family’s love. And Mr. Black made his choice, albeit a poor one. He is still paying for that choice. Not to mention that the wizarding world would never accept a werewolf as the guardian to the Chosen One.” Albus shook his head regretfully. “Not only that, Mr. Lupin disappeared that night, too. No, we must be smart about our next moves. We need to focus on finding the boy, but we must not alert the Dark that anything has changed with young Harry's situation. As far as everyone knows, he is safe. We must maintain that he is being held in a secret location, getting the love and attention that he needs before he comes into the wizarding world to take his rightful place as a hero,” He reassured in an attempt to placate Severus and to stop Minerva from any more angry outbursts.

Severus sniffed disdainfully and turned to walk from the room. “Say what you will, Albus, but Lily’s boy is missing and I’m not stretched too thin to go find him without your help and bring him back with me.” With that said, he swirled his robes and stalked out of the office, leaving Mrs. Figg and Minerva staring after him in shock.

Albus ground his teeth together before turning to the women who were left standing there, wringing their hands in distress. He would need to get Severus in hand quickly, but for now, he needed to focus on Minerva and Arabella.

“Ladies, we will continue on as if nothing has happened. Only Severus, the two of you, and I knew of the location of the young Savior. We must keep it under wraps that he has gone missing. The wizarding world could potentially dissolve into a panic. We must keep a brave face and maintain that he is safe and sound. I will work my contacts, and I’m sure that Severus will also look into anything from the Death Eaters that could point to what happened. We will solve this little mystery. I’m sure it is just a small misunderstanding. Just a minor inconvenience. It will all be solved in no time,” Dumbledore coaxed, smiling with an extra twinkle added to his eyes. He inserted just a push of magic with his statement so that the ladies would feel more comfortable with his words.

Minerva glanced at him disbelievingly until the small push of magic brought her face to a calm acceptance. “Of course, Albus. That would be best.”

Arabella also nodded in acquiescence. “Yes, Headmaster. I’ll make sure to keep watch in the neighborhood and let you know of any changes.”

“Wonderful, ladies!” Dumbledore clapped his hands and gave a small smile and nod. “This is merely a hiccough in our little world. Everything will be fine in no time. Off you two go.” He gestured for Arabella to leave through the floo and for Minerva to exit out the door. “Oh, and Minerva?”

She turned back to face him at his question. “Yes, Albus?”

“The Gryffindors did nothing wrong in my eyes. Let Severus know that the Slytherins have two week’s detention with Mr. Filch.”

Chapter Text

Just past midnight on the morning of November 1st, 1981, a knock sounded at the door of the rooms of one Severus Snape, potions master and professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Opening the door, Severus came face to face with the Headmaster, who, even with his garish purple robes with stars and moons covering them, looked like he had aged a decade in one night.

“Severus, my boy, I have some very grave and unsettling news,” Dumbledore said, pausing to take his glasses off and close his eyes in apparent grief. “Godric's Hollow has been attacked.” He took in a deep breath before continuing, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry to say that both James and Lily are no longer with us. They were cut down mercilessly in their home this evening.”

Severus kept his dour face blank of anything that could be construed as an emotion, but inside his heart dropped. Lily! Who could have possibly done this? They were at war with the Dark, yes, but he assumed that the Potters were protected in their home. He believed them to be safe. They were under fidelus for Merlin’s sake! No one should have been able to find them, let alone get into their house to kill them! Only close friends knew where they were, and Severus knew that those individuals would never betray them.

The Potters were a magically powerful Gray family working within the Light. He knew that they had started to see some issues within the Order, but they were still working with them, biding their time before they made any enemies within Dumbledore’s ranks. And, after the prophecy had come to light about their boy being the one who would be the downfall of the Dark side, they had done everything that they could to protect their child.

If anything, James and Lily were trying to figure out ways that they could circumvent the prophecy. To avoid any conflict that their child might have to engage in later on in his young life. They were more neutral now than they had been toward the beginning of the war, and they were even beginning to lean toward the Dark after researching the ideals of both sides. Severus knew that Dumbledore hadn’t known about their potential defection just yet.

They were still trying to get Lupin and Black to see that it would be beneficial, for Harry’s sake, to side with Voldemort so that Harry might be saved. At this point, none of them even really knew what the war was about. They only knew that Dumbledore said that Voldemort and his people were bad, Dark wizards were bad, and they needed to be fought at every angle. Severus was endeavoring to get his friends to see that this was the best choice for them and their family, but it was a delicate balance. He was, after all, a spy for both the dark and the light.

Voldemort also knew about the Potters’ suspicions and wavering beliefs. He would have never killed them. He wanted them on his side. After all, what better way to avoid being killed by a child of prophecy than to bring the child over to your side along with his family? Severus knew that Lily and James would want to escape to save their child. Not join further in a war to harm him.

All of these thoughts brought Severus back to the initial question: who could have possibly killed his friends? (Truthfully he was more friends with Lily than James, but he never would have wished the man dead – even after all the pranks that he pulled.)

“What happened?” He whispered.

“Voldemort, my dear boy,” Dumbledore said remorsefully. (Severus scoffed internally, not believing that for a moment.) “The evil that man and all Dark wizards personify happened this evening. As far as we have been able to find out, he found out part of the prophecy that young Harry would be the one to bring about his downfall, and went about finding someone to infiltrate in close to them.” (Severus again sneered to himself. Voldemort already knew the prophecy and was working to sway the Potters so they did not have to lose their child due to some baseless prediction of a washed-up divination professor. He had known it from the very beginning when Severus told him. Why would he do anything about it now?)

“Young Mr. Black turned against his friends and went to the Dark, following the ways of his mother and father and brother. He is currently on the run, but we should hopefully have him in custody soon,” Dumbledore stated in apparent dismay. “Such a promising boy.”

“Yes, Severus, the worst possible thing we could have imagined happened. Where we thought the family safe from the Death Eaters and Voldemort in the confines of their home behind the fidelus. With their friends, they were actually in the midst of a traitor all this time. The darkest of magic was done in the Potters’ house tonight, and ultimately, they paid the direst price. Unforgivables were cast upon them. And then, when they could go on no more, they were both shot with the killing curse.”

Severus let emotion finally show through his stoic demeanor at this statement, while Dumbledore paused again, replacing his half-moon glasses on his face. Severus noticed that for the first time in a long time there was no visible twinkle in the man’s eyes as he gazed back at the Headmaster.

He felt a pressing tingle at the front of his mind and immediately slammed down his occlumency shields. Not knowing why the Headmaster wanted into his mind put him on immediate edge. Keeping his face blank of any further emotion, he asked, “What about their boy? What about Harry?”

“Ah, yes, it seems that our young Harry is exceptionally powerful, despite being so young. He was able to shield himself while his mother and father fought off the evil forces invading their home. As far as we can tell, when Voldemort went to kill Harry and invalidate the other side of the prophecy, Harry’s magic intervened and Voldemort was caught in the backlash. Voldemort then disappeared from the Potter’s home in apparent defeat. We have not heard if he survived the encounter, but our hopes are high that young Harry was able to vanquish him with his protective magic,” Albus said shrewdly, the twinkle in his eye growing. “The Light suffered a terrible loss this evening, but we have also won a battle against one of the worst Dark Lords in wizarding history. This is a huge boon, my boy. We will be able to look back on this evening with joy in later years, remembering how young Harry was responsible for bringing about the downfall of Voldemort.”

Severus’ mouth gaped slightly at the words ‘look back on this evening with joy’. He would never be able to consider this evening a joyous occasion. He just lost his best friend, her family, and the Dark had taken a huge hit if their leader had really been vanquished. No, this was not a ‘joyous occasion’.

“But where is he? Where is Harry? Was he harmed in any way? I want to see him. Lily and James wanted me to help raise him if anything happened to them. I need to see the boy to make sure everything is alright.” Severus stated forcefully.

He might not believe one word that the Headmaster was saying about the events of the evening, but the outcome was probably true. Lily and James probably were dead, at whose hand he did not know, but that could be figured out later. Right now, he needed to find Lily’s child. To protect him, just as he, along with Black and Lupin, had promised to do when young Harry was born.

“Harry is now the proud bearer of a failed curse scar on his forehead,” Dumbledore smiled, eyes extra twinkly. (Severus hated him a little more right then because of that smile.) “He is fine, Severus, I checked him out myself,” he continued smugly, “It was too dangerous for him to be seen by the public right now. There is too much turmoil in the wizarding world. So, I have moved him to a safe place, a wonderful home. Only Minerva and I know the location, and she has been sworn to secrecy. The fewer people who know where he is being raised, the better. He will be loved. He will be cherished. He will know of his family and our world, and when the time is right, he will come back into the public light so that people may see their hero. But, until then, he is safe. You need not worry, my boy, I have taken care of everything.”

This did not mollify Severus one bit. Jaw clenched in anger, Severus did the only thing he could in this situation… he nodded and respectfully bid the Headmaster goodnight. Turning to his floo, he called out ‘Malfoy Manor’. He would need to get to the bottom of some of the lingering questions that he had over this whole situation.

Never let it be said that Severus Snape took anything at face value, especially when he knew that his true Lord was supposedly out of the country on a diplomatic mission. And Black? Well he had to be with Lupin – it was, after all, the full moon. No one would believe that Black would leave Lupin alone during one of his moon runs to betray one of his best friends. (Especially with Potter stuck behind fidelus wards, unable to join in.) Yes, there were way too many questions for Severus’ liking, and he didn’t trust the Headmaster’s answers one bit!

Severus Snape was angry. As he stalked away from the Headmaster’s office and back down to his quarters in the dungeons, he realized that he was more furious than he had ever been in his twenty-seven years of life.

Yes, he had been livid when Lily and James died in their home six years ago. Being told that their deaths were Voldemort’s fault made him even more incensed. He knew Voldemort didn’t have anything to do with their deaths! Severus had been a spy for both sides for too long to be blind to the true nature of people. While Voldemort may have some different ideals than the current wizarding world, he in no way caused the death of one Lily and James Potter. And he certainly never harmed a hair on Harry’s head! Of that, Severus Snape could be sure. If anything, he would have ensured their safety, if he could.

Sure, the fact that Severus had not been given the chance to give their son a stable life after his parents were gone made Severus’ heart clench in rage toward the bumbling old goat currently up in the office, but he had been told that Harry was safe. He had been assured that his home was impenetrable to anything that could possibly happen to the boy. He had been told that Harry was flourishing where he was. That he was loved. That he was happy. That he was living the best life anyone could ever dream to live.

Flooing immediately over to Malfoy Manor, Severus prowled down the hall to where the ballroom doors were closed due to a meeting. Pushing them open without thought or regard to what was occurring within, he walked straight in to see the Dark Lord holding court with some of the inner circle of Death Eaters. Voldemort raised his hand to get the conversation to quiet, giving his whole attention to Severus.

“What is it, Severus? I had not planned on receiving a report from you for yet a few more days.”

Severus sketched a quick bow before saying, “My Lord, I have just learned the most distressing news.”

Lord Voldemort sat up straight in his chair. (Read: throne. The man really was quite arrogant, but Severus figured he deserved it with how powerful he was.) He motioned for him to continue.

“Harry Potter is missing. While we have been searching for him these past six years, he has been residing in the muggle world with his relatives, Lily Potter’s sister and her family. My Lord, they are the most horrible type of muggle, akin to those you and I encountered when we were… younger.”

Severus could see Voldemort’s red eyes narrow and his mouth turn to a deep frown with this revelation. Neither one of them had been loved or cared for by any muggle when they were growing up. It was one of the things that they could very much relate to with each other. To have the knowledge that young Harry Potter might have endured anything close to what they had themselves endured was angering and also heartbreaking. Severus had promised that Harry would be taken care of. He had given his word.

“Do you know the events of the disappearance?” Voldemort asked after a moment. He and his Death Eaters had been quietly searching for the Potter child since his disappearance from the wizarding world, but the searches had all been in vain. Either he had been behind a very strong fidelus charm, or he had been moved to an area where no one would think to look. Obviously, it had been the latter.

Severus recounted all that Mrs. Figg had told them in the Headmaster’s office. He explained that there were three bodies in body bags. She did not see the persons inside the body bags. However, she was adamant that the smaller, child-sized body bag did not contain the body of one Harry Potter. She had mentioned that it was far too large for it to be him. (This made both Severus and Voldemort question why the boy would be so very small in comparison to the other child who lived in the same house.)

After describing the evening’s events in detail, Severus stood quietly, waiting for further instruction from his Lord.

Voldemort looked around at his inner circle members and then back at Severus. “I trust that I do not need to say or do anything to stress that this must remain quiet. Anyone who needs a reminder of what happens when someone goes against what I ask, please let me know and I will be most happy to remind them. As it is, you are all dismissed. We will reconvene to discuss this new development and any plans regarding it at a later time. Severus, please stay.”

Severus stood patiently with his hands clasped behind his back as the rest of the inner circle of Death Eaters rose and left the room. When the last one had exited and the doors were closed, his gaze met the red eyes of the Dark Lord.

“I am sorry, Severus. I know how much this must be hurting you right now,” Voldemort said with true compassion. “I would like you to go to this family’s house in disguise and see if you are able to find out any more information than the squib was able to give. Take as long as you need for this mission, Severus. You are one of my favored, and I know how much the boy meant to you. Would that I could, I would have saved the whole family all those years ago.”

Severus inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Yes, my Lord, I will do as you ask. If it is at all possible, I would like to attempt to contact Black and Lupin and appraise them of the situation as well.”

Voldemort waived one hand in acceptance. “Of course, you may. I have them up near the werewolf pack run by Fenrir, however I am sure that they will be most grateful if you were to inform them of this development, as disturbing as it is. I know they would want to be informed. They may even be able to help you from their location with any news of where the young child has gone.”

Nodding in understanding, Severus gave the Dark Lord a small bow and left the manor. He had a crime scene to investigate.

Upon arriving at Number 4 Privet Drive, a heavily disguised and disillusioned Severus Snape walked through the front door. The putrid smell of human decomposition and iron from spilled blood hit his nose immediately. He looked around the darkened interior of the home, seeing no immediate threat.

Raising his wand, he cast a non-verbal lumos and walked further inside. He passed by a small cupboard with a lock on it that looked like it was used quite frequently. As he continued his investigation, he looked around the house for signs of the family that had lived there. He saw the pictures on the wall, the spoiling food on the counter, and the dirty dishes left for someone, who would never show up, to come clean them.

Even more than just looking around for information on how the family lived, he looked for signs of Harry.

He found none.

No pictures. No clothes. No toys. No room, even. Where did Harry live, if he truly did even live here?

He circled back and opened the cupboard, only to notice the small cot and little home that had been made for someone who was obviously small enough to fit inside. Rage filled Severus as he took in the sight. Harry lived in a cupboard. Dumbledore had put Lily’s child in a house where he was forced to live in a cupboard.

Stepping back from his examination of Harry's cupboard, he moved on to search the rest of the home. Once he got to the living room, he stopped. On the couch were giant bloodstains from an obvious fight. It did not seem that it was a magical fight, however, as Severus could find no trace of magical spells when he scanned the room. This puzzled him. Who would want to take Harry Potter, if not a wizard? He stepped closer to the couch and saw that near the urine and blood stain was a large hole in the couch. Next to that, inside another two blood stains, were two other large holes. Severus felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

This wasn’t the work of wizards. This was a muggle. This was a muggle with a muggle weapon who had taken the Savior of the Wizarding World, probably without even knowing it.

The suspect pool was immediately blown to bits. He had no clue who would come into this house and murder these people. (Although at this point, seeing the well-used cupboard and knowing what he knew about Petunia, he would have probably murdered the family himself.) The Dark Lord was going to be very frustrated with this news. He was very frustrated with this news. Merlin! Black and Lupin might actually have kittens – or wolves, or whatever.

And Dumbledore? Well, he was the unknown factor. This whole situation had catastrophe written all over it.

Chapter Text

"You ever been to New York?"

- Fall/Winter, 1987 (7 Years Old) -
- Somewhere in New York -

Harry loved New York. It was big. It was loud. It was busy. No one stared at him or made fun of him as they walked along the streets. (That might have something to do with the fact that Frank was the intimidating type of guy who made everyone move around him. People probably moved because they were scared. He did look a little scary, even in ‘normal clothes’ without his whole ‘black leather cloak/guns getup’.)

He wasn’t sure how Frank had gotten the people at customs to accept that he was Frank’s son. (A fact that Harry was thrilled about! He had always wanted to be someone’s son!) Let alone how he got them to allow Harry to leave the country with him, seeing as they had really only known each other for a week when they left London. He also wasn’t quite sure why Frank was being called Mr. Castiglione and he was being called Henry, but he kept his mouth shut about it. It must be yet another cool name that Frank got to have. Hopefully Harry would get some other cool names soon, too.

“Always make contacts wherever you go, kid. Remember that you can pretty much pay anyone for anything you need. I mean anything. And, you never know when you’ll need someone to dig you out of a hole, dig a hole to bury a body, pick you up if you’re stranded, offer an extra gun in a fight, or even forge a few papers for a child you intend to illegally adopt and take overseas to save them from a bad home life,” Frank advised him gruffly.

Harry kind of considered that last situation to be very specific and probably only pertaining to this circumstance. But, nevertheless, it was good to know these things that Frank told him and to tuck them away for when he would need them.

Frank must have known a lot of people who could help him out. (Harry wondered how many bodies he had to have help burying…) Harry didn’t have much (read: any) experience with airplanes, but he knew that they were usually full of people all traveling together. The airplane that Frank and he were in just had the two of them, with Frank piloting. (Harry hoped that Frank wouldn’t choose this time to be one of the times that Frank decided to leave the plane mid-flight. He wanted to stay inside the plane, thank you very much!) Frank said that they were alone because the people in the airport didn’t like his luggage. Harry looked at Frank’s luggage for a moment. He thought the black duffle bags looked fine, if maybe a little dirty. Perhaps dirt was a big issue to the people at the airport.

The first thing that Frank did after getting them both off the plane in New York was get Harry a slice of the most wonderful pizza that he had ever had in his whole seven years on this earth. Of course, he had never had pizza before. (“Jesus Christ, kid, that’s a cryin’ fuckin’ shame, and we’re gonna rectify that as soon as we hit ground in the city. Everyone should know what a real slice tastes like.”)

After food, clothes shopping (ones that actually fit… and were new!), food shopping (apparently Frank hadn’t been to this home for a while), the two of them made their way to a house in a place Frank called Hell’s Kitchen. Harry noticed, after they reached the ‘house’ that they had not really walked in direct route to get there. They had circled back some blocks a few times and gone past the house only to finally return. He brought this to Frank’s attention and was praised for recognizing that they had done what Frank called ‘evasive maneuvers’.

“Always assume people are following you, kid. You never know who’s got eyes on you. And make sure you’re always aware of the eyes in the sky,” Frank warned lowly as they went down a few alleyways and over a couple short walls.

“Eyes in the sky?”

Frank pointed subtly at a device attached to one of the traffic lights in the intersection they had stopped at. “If that can see you… see your face, then anyone can see you and see your face. Both ‘good guys’ and the ‘bad guys’ can track you and where you’re going. Stay anonymous, kid. Keep your head turned away from the cameras. Stay out of sight. Stay in the shadows as best you can.”

Harry nodded. Frank was so wise. He was learning so much!

As Harry had reached up to help open the door of the house, Frank grabbed his arm and yanked him back, a little more forcefully than he had ever done before. Frank’s big hand held Harry’s arm in a firm grip. It was not nearly as hard as his Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia would manhandle him, but it did cause a small spike of unease to creep into his mind. Was he going to be treated the same by Frank? But, no, of course there was an explanation.

“Stop!” Frank’s harsh voice ordered abruptly. “Never touch a door or try to open something without inspecting it first. Make sure there are no wires or suicide traps.”

He pointed to a thin wire coming out of the doorknob that went into the doorframe of the house. Disengaging that, he proceeded to undo a few other traps that he had set on the door, then he keyed a code into his phone and Harry heard three deadbolts unlock on the other side. “I’ll get you your own burner so that you can have the codes.”

“Burner?”

“Phone, kid, one that no one can trace.”

“Neat.”

Wow, Frank sure knew how to be safe!

Frank gave a tour of the house. (It wasn’t that big) He showed Harry the places that he didn’t want him to get into. (Frank’s gun safe was huge. Harry couldn’t wait until he was allowed to go in there.) He showed Harry where knives were stowed all over the house for protection, all the while mumbling something about being just as bad as the Winter Soldier. Harry didn’t know who that was, but the guy sounded cool if he liked knives. (“Only use these after I show you how to hold them and how to use them properly. If you don’t know what you’re doing with a weapon, you’re more likely to hurt yourself than the person you’re trying to hurt.”) Harry also got his own burner phone. (It would sometimes shock him when he picked it up. Frank said that was weird, but it didn't seem to affect the phone, so they both shrugged it off.)

They settled into an easy routine as a ‘family unit’. Harry would attend school. (“You’re going to go to regular school, Harry. You’re gonna get book smart while I make sure you get street smart. You gotta go through your life learnin’ everything you can from anyone who will teach you. You never know who will have information that could save your life one day.”) Frank would pick him up every day, when he wasn't out on a job. He was usually dressed in his boots, jeans and a t-shirt with a regular leather jacket. He almost always wore a hat and sunglasses. Harry thought that he still looked pretty intimidating to others, even in ‘normal clothes’.

Frank would take small jobs that came his way. A tip here, a call late at night there. ‘Wetwork Specialist’ he sarcastically called himself when Harry asked what his job was.

He never hid anything from Harry, though. He never assumed that Harry was too young to understand what was going on. He would always explain each job he took on and the reasons behind taking it. (“Scum needs to die, kid. If you don’t put it down, it’ll breed more scum. Right now, I’m workin’ close to home so you can get some stability, but I might have to go away for a while sometimes. Don’t worry, though. I’m never gonna lie to you about what I do.”)

Sometimes, Frank would be gone overnight and Harry would get to stay with Frank’s (occasional) friend Matt Murdock. Or, as Frank called him, 'Red'. Harry didn't really understand why he was called Red. It wasn't like he had red hair or anything. His cane wasn't even red.

But, Harry liked Matt. They played hide and seek a lot. (Matt was real good at finding him, even though he was blind!) Frank said that it was a good way to learn how to ‘regulate his breathing’ and ‘practice situational awareness’. Harry didn’t really understand what that meant. He just thought it was fun.

Matt would always try to tell Frank that Harry should have a better, more normal childhood. He seemed very frustrated that the paperwork showing that Harry was Frank’s son even passed through the legal system. (Matt knew a lot about the legal system.) Harry felt so bad after hearing them fighting one afternoon. He finally explained to Matt that living with Frank was ‘more normal’ for him.

After his explanation about his old family, Matt let up on Frank for a while. That made Harry pretty happy because he hated when people weren’t nice to Frank.

- Summer, 1988 (8 Years Old) -
- Safehouse Number ??, Hell's Kitchen, NY -

For his eighth birthday, Frank had gotten Harry a set of CRKT Provoke ‘Earth’ knives. He about wet himself with excitement.

First, he had never received a real birthday present before. And second, he had been practicing with Frank’s old Gerbers and a few Benchmade Autocrats that were surplus. But these new knives were his. Only his. (The guns were still off limits, of course. Well… except for learning how to disassemble, reassemble, and clean all of them under supervision. And, of course, learning all the different names/uses.)

He had already started learning the techniques of knife fighting. Frank would take him through his paces whenever they had down time on the weekend or when it looked like Harry had too much energy. (Harry had a lot of energy.) He had enough energy to work on martial arts, knife fighting, shadow boxing and whatever else Frank came up with to train him. Matt would even box with him sometimes. (He was quite good for a blind guy.) Harry loved it all.

But mostly, he was loving his new knives. He loved the curve of the blade and the fact that he could open them with one hand. (This meant that he could open two at a time!) The only thing he wished was that he could stab something besides a giant punching bag. He wanted a real target.

He hadn’t stabbed Frank during one of their training fights yet. But Frank said that if Harry was able to stab him at eight years old with very little training under his skinny ass belt, then he was going to hang up his guns and retire. Harry considered this quite a dramatic statement, but he said nothing to disagree.

One day before the summer was over, Frank and Harry walked into their home to see a figure in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans. His tennis shoes were propped up on their coffee table, and a cold beer hung loosely in his hand.

Frank didn’t even blink. ("Shoot first, ask questions later.") Before the man had a chance to react, Frank had dropped the groceries he was carrying, pushed Harry behind him, quickly drawn his gun and shot the man twice. (Harry figured that not only was Frank probably really mad that someone broke in, but he was probably also mad about the fact that the man had put his feet up on the coffee table. Harry wasn’t allowed to do that either.)

The beer in the man’s hand dropped, and his body went immediately slack on the chair. Blood bloomed out the front of his chest, and there was a decent sized hole where Frank had shot the side of his head. Harry was pretty sure he saw a bit of scalp imbedded in the back of their recliner. (Which was kind of a bummer in Harry’s opinion. That was Frank’s good recliner.)

“Fuck!” Growled Frank. “You just had to come over and fuckin’ break in. Couldn’t send a message or call like a regular motherfucker. No, just had to make me ruin a perfectly good chair with a couple 'a bullet holes and your fuckin’ brains.”

Frank had never talked to the dead around Harry before, so he was a little unnerved about this new development. However, much to Harry’s surprise, the dead man in the chair did a little shimmy side to side, shook his head once, and stretched his arms over his head. He tilted his head down to look at his sweater and then looked over at where Frank and Harry still stood. Frank still stood with his gun aimed in the man’s general direction.

“Castle! And Mini-Castle! I’ve heard such good things! The author tells me that you are doing so well on your training, and soon you’ll get to use those guns you've been dreaming about,” the man gushed as he stood up, apparently not at all injured from multiple gunshots through the head and chest.

Harry looked at him, his mouth agape in shocked confusion. He looked up at Frank, and then back to where the man stood, seemingly unaffected by the whole situation. “What the hell is he talking about, Frank? And why isn’t he dead??” Harry whispered.

“Awwww, the Mini Punisher swears. You must be so proud, Frankie boy,” the man crooned as he walked closer to the pair.

Frank growled low in his throat and started to bring his weapon back up, causing the man to stop and raise his hands in a sign of surrender. "Aw, come on, Castle, you know I'm just playing around."

Frank looked down at Harry and gestured with the gun in his hand to the not-so-dead man standing in the living room. “Harry, meet Wade, or Deadpool, as most people call him. Ugly ass motherfucker. Annoying as shit. But, fairly hard to kill, so, pretty decent in a fight.”

Deadpool sketched a short bow, "Merc with a Mouth at your service, Pint-Sized Punisher."

Harry looked at Wade, who had pulled his hood back a little. His face was covered in scars (and blood), and he looked kinda like he had fallen in some acid or something. (Or maybe he’d been burned. He had been studying the pictures Frank would show him of injuries so that he could determine what caused them.)

“Wow! You’ve got a lot of scars!” Harry exclaimed. “Frank has tons too, but his aren’t all over his face, and they’re not all the same. I have some on my back from where Uncle Vernon would hit me with a belt, and I have the one on my forehead. But yours are way cooler!”

Wade looked at him in shock while Frank snorted and shook his head. “Yep, way cooler, kid. Come on, let’s get these groceries put away and you can hear all about Wade’s tragic backstory while I have a beer and you have a snack.”

Harry loved Wade. He loved that Wade would let him do things that Frank wouldn’t. The one time that Wade was allowed to babysit for a couple days, Harry finally got to stab someone. Of course, he stabbed Wade… but, still.

Wade seemed pretty cool about it. Frank… eh, not so much. After a little more explaining, though, and a little groveling (on Wade’s part) Frank finally acquiesced to Harry training with Wade. He even got him a couple of short katanas so that Wade could teach him with those.

Harry loved being eight. It was probably his best year so far.

Chapter Text

Harry loved being eight. It was probably his best year so far.

- Fall, 1990 (10 Years Old) -
- Undisclosed Location, New York, NY -

By the time that Harry had turned ten years old, Frank and he had moved at least four times. (This was not counting the weeks - sometimes months - in the summers when they would check on Frank’s other hideouts out of state.)

Travelling with Frank was fun, though, so Harry enjoyed those trips. He did wonder at first why they had a different car each time they went anywhere. Frank just ended up showing him proper hot-wiring techniques and told him that it was safer to keep people guessing what you were driving. Also, he explained that one should always have a burner car. (Just like their phones!)

Some places they stayed were nicer than others. Some were pretty bare, with just a couple beds, a couch and other sparse, worn furniture. Some had nicer furnishings and even some random prints of paintings on the wall. Harry didn’t mind either type of home. When it came down to it, they were vastly improved living spaces to living in a cupboard under the stairs. And Frank was with him, so that made everything better in Harry’s eyes. They stuck near the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood at first, so that Harry could stay in one school district, but as he grew older, they moved further out into New York and the surrounding boroughs.

“Never stay in one place too long, kid. That way, you can keep your safe houses secure without having to compromise their locations. You can come back to them if they’re still good to use. But if you stay too long, there’s the risk you’ll be found out. And if that happens… well then you’ll have to burn the location.”

“Not literally, of course,” Harry snorted.

Frank just gazed at him flatly.

“Oookay, maybe literally.”

“Sometimes. Remember, you never leave them any proof that you were ever there. You should be a rumor. A ghost. Something feared, but never seen… by any living person anyway. A big fire or some explosives work pretty well in that regard,” Frank said brusquely.

Harry nodded thinking that it might be fun to actually have to explode one of their previous houses. He would have to ask Frank if one of them had been compromised so that he could help out.

One of Harry’s favorite hideouts (that he wasn’t even allowed to visit until this year) was the one with Frank’s ‘Baby GTMO’ in the basement.

“Baby what? Gitmow?” Harry asked when Frank pointed out the room in the basement.

“Guantanamo Bay, kid, also called GTMO. Military Naval Base and prison in Cuba. Did some… interrogations there. This is my own smaller version,” Frank explained.

“Why the long pause before ‘interrogation’?”

“They might have been slightly… under duress. I’ll show you my methods sometime soon. You’ll see.”

He loved inspecting the room and exploring all the items that Frank used in his work. The lone chair bolted to the floor in the middle of the room had confused Harry the first time he saw it. Frank quickly explained how it was much easier it is to deal with someone who had nothing around them to distract them from their circumstances. This was so their whole attention could be given to their ‘interrogator’, and, of course, maybe to some of the interrogation tools. It made the person confined to the chair feel scared and weak. (“And weak people, kid, are far more likely to give up information much faster.”)

One thing that Harry did not like was when Frank would come back from long missions all beat up and bleeding. He didn’t mind a few visible bruises because that came with the territory of Frank’s job. Hell, Harry even got bruises and small injuries from all of his training.

But sometimes Frank would try to sneak in late at night, injured and delirious from blood loss. (It was silly to assume that he could sneak in, really. He had taught Harry way too well to allow anyone to breach their security without Harry knowing it, no matter if that person did have the codes.) He would be clutching his side or his shoulder, usually covered in blood and with a pained expression on his face. No, Harry did not like when this happened at all.

Frank would sometimes go to a ‘night clinic’ or see Sister Maggie. (If he was forced to by Harry’s concerned pleading or Matt’s stern harassment.) These choices did not seem like very legitimate healthcare, in Harry’s opinion. (“You pay for their silence, kid, not necessarily their cleanliness or ability.”)

Frank would reluctantly get bandaged up and come back to whatever place they were calling home so that he could recuperate for a couple days. They would give him some drugs, but Frank never took them. (“Cloud my brain, kid. Pain is better. Makes it all clear just in case somethin’ happens.”) The really bad times could mean that he was down for a week or two.

No, Harry really didn’t like Frank being hurt like this at all. Watching Frank injured made him feel so useless because he couldn’t do anything to help out.

Finally realizing that Harry needed to have more education on injuries and how to deal with them, Frank decided to give him some legitimate training.

Finding a willing body to help out with Harry’s training was, well… easy.

- Winter, 1990 (10 Years Old) -
- Baby GTMO, Safehouse Undisclosed, NY -

“Come on, Harry,” Frank ordered one evening while walking up from the basement.

Harry was sitting in the livingroom cleaning and sharpening his knives. He was organizing them by size, weight and ease of access in a fight.

"See, I’m sharpening my knives," Harry said with a smirk as he watched Frank approach. "Wax on, wax off, Mr. Frank" (Wade had finally watched the Karate Kid with him.)

Frank rolled his eyes. "Shut up, kid." He spun around and headed back toward the basement.

Harry turned and started to rise to follow Frank, but was stopped by him saying over his shoulder, “Bring the knives, kid. You’re gonna want ‘em.”

Grinning at the prospect of using his knives for real, Harry grabbed them off the coffee table and followed Frank down into Baby GTMO.

He was greeted with the sight of an almost naked man sitting in the chair in the middle of the room. There was a clear tarp laid out beneath him, presumably to catch whatever fell so that the ground would stay clean. The man was stripped down to his boxer shorts, shivering and sweating in his seat. (Gross. Harry hoped that Frank sanitized the chair frequently.)

A rope was tied across the man’s chest and around the back of the chair, keeping his back straight. His legs were tied with rope at the ankles that was looped through the eyebolts on the ground. His hands were wrenched behind his back, secured with zip ties. (“Always carry zip ties, kid. Best handcuffs you can use in a hurry. They don’t add much weight to your gear and it’s a bitch to fight to get out of them. If you don’t have somethin’ to cut ‘em with, that is.”) In the man’s mouth there was a filthy gag, muffling the whimpering cries he was producing. There was another bandana around the man’s eyes so that he couldn’t see anything in the room. Even his ears were covered with a large set of headphones. (“Sensory deprivation. Makes ‘em freak when they have no idea what’s gonna happen next.” “Huh. Sounds smart.” “Yep, use whatever ‘interrogation techniques’ you can to help you out.”)

“Right, kid. Now this here is one of the enforcers for the Gnucci family. They’ve been runnin’ a human trafficking ring down on the docks, so this shit-stain has very kindly ‘volunteered’ to help with your first aid training. I’ve seen how frustrated you’ve been gettin’ with not bein’ able to help out if I get hurt real bad. I don’t want you to feel like that anymore. And, I figure it’s about time you learn how to properly… interrogate someone anyways,” Frank stated evenly. “So, we can go about this one of two ways: you can do the work and fix the injuries, or I can do the work and you can fix the injuries. Either way, you’re not leavin’ this room until you know how to do proper field first aid.”

Harry hummed quietly, considering the man in the chair for a moment. He’d already caused a few knife injuries on Wade during practice fighting. Of course, those were cuts that weren’t too big. (Well, there were a couple big ones that Frank didn’t know about yet. Wade said what Frank didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. Harry was more worried about what would kill Wade and Harry, though.) But he’d never done anything to someone he didn’t know.

But Frank was there to ensure that everything would be fine. He stood in the room, arms crossed, quiet and imposing as ever. His solemn eyes studying the situation in a completely nonjudgmental manner. Looking at Harry calmly, eyes never wavering from his face, Frank waited for an answer.

And Harry, well, even after living with Frank all this time, he couldn’t really read what he was thinking behind that steady gaze. He knew it was entirely his choice if he wanted to further his training onto working on actual victims. He deliberated if he was ready for this step while looking between Frank and the man one more time.

Harry looked back at Frank once more with a lift of his small brow in question.

Frank gave a minute nod.

Harry smiled inwardly with that small gesture. Frank was acknowledging that this was ok. He wouldn’t have brought him down here if it wasn’t. He was affirming that Harry was ready, if he wanted to be. Frank was saying that working this man over was a good way to begin. And, if Frank said that this guy deserved it, then he probably really deserved it.

“You to tell me what to do. I wanna do it myself, Frank,” Harry stated with determination.

With that firm statement from his protégé, Frank nodded. A proud glint gleamed in his eye, and he sent Harry to grab the first aid kit from the corner. (It was the kind of kit that would put any paramedic to shame.)

“Ok, first we’ll work on cuts and suturing. You’ll use your knives so that you can get the feel of breaking the skin and how much pressure needs to be applied for certain depths. Believe me, it will take more force than you think. I want you to do a couple of cuts in the guy’s arm. One shallow, one medium depth, and the last one down to the bone. I also want you to do a straight stab down into his thigh. You can wiggle the knife after you stab if you want to, but make sure you go to the hilt. Got it?” Frank instructed curtly while he retrieved the suturing kits from inside the bag. He handed Harry a pair of surgical gloves to protect him from getting the man’s blood all over his hands.

Harry nodded. Wide-eyed he accepted and donned the gloves before turning toward his victim.

“Now normally, if you were in a safehouse patching me or yourself up, you would try to make things as sterile as possible. All of the cuts and injuries would be cleaned with iodine or alcohol. But, down here, I don’t think this guy is really gonna care if we keep things sterile or not. Let’s just say that him getting an infection is probably the least of his worries,” Frank stated wryly.

Harry let out a small giggle.

Frank watched with a detached air as Harry cut the man in the chair three times on the arm and stabbed him deep in the thigh. (Frank smirked inwardly when Harry decided to viciously twist the knife causing the man more pain.) There were a few false starts when Harry couldn’t quite press hard enough to make the cuts deep enough, but he persevered. The man jerked every time the knife met his skin, and he groaned in anguished pain through his gag. Harry could see beads of sweat fall from the man’s temples and tracks of tears streaming from behind the mask.

Neither Harry nor Frank cared.

The only thing that Harry felt was a sense of fascination when the blood began to well up under his knife, but he didn’t dwell on it and remained focused on his task.

After the cuts had been made, Frank described each one and the level of severity if one were to get them on a mission. He explained that the first cut merely needed to be taped together and maybe a small bandage, if there was time to stop and take care of it. The second one would need some butterfly tape, wound glue and a bandage. And the last one, the worst one where Harry could actually see the humerus inside the man’s arm, would need legitimate stitches and a bandage. Also, depending on how bad it was and the location of the cut, if one was in the field, a tourniquet might need to be applied.

The stab in the thigh was inspected and Harry was informed that it could potentially hurt like a ‘son of a bitch’, but a bandage and a couple stitches should be just fine to treat it. And that probably didn’t even need to happen until after the mission was over and they were back at a safehouse. (If the stab had been twisted and torn, there might need to be a couple stitches, though, and maybe a pressure bandage depending on bleeding.)

Harry performed all of the actions to each of the cuts. He even learned how to use a portion of a bandage as a tourniquet.

The man in the chair was blubbering in pain, but other two in the room just ignored him. Looking at the cuts to survey his work, Harry nodded in satisfaction. Frank patted him on the shoulder for a job well done.

Harry beamed up at Frank, filled with pride at doing a good job for his dad.

They worked on shoulder and knee dislocations next. For that, Harry worked the man’s shoulder over then popped it back in. He did this for both shoulders so that he could feel the difference between the sides and angles needed. (Or so Frank said.) He twisted the man’s legs and popped the kneecaps out. Harry then followed Frank’s instructions on how to adjust them back as best he could.

Using the arm that had not been cut, Harry twisted the wrist until it broke to learn the art of splinting. He broke the fingers on both of the hands so that he could see how each one would be splinted. (Or buddy-taped, as it were.) Well actually, after the first hand he knew how to splint well enough, but he was having so much fun so Frank indulged him and let him play a little longer.

“Ok, next, we’ll work on bullet wounds. Now, we wear Kevlar on missions, but it won’t cover everything. My logo on my chest, just like yours will eventually be, is there to draw fire to the most protected area on my body. But that doesn’t always work, kid. Shit will happen and you’ll get shot. You need to know how to plug a hole, dig a bullet out, and apply a clotting bandage if needed. You ready?” Frank asked brusquely. “I’ll talk you through it, but I want you to work fast since speed is always of the essence when someone is bleeding out.”

Harry nodded in affirmation that he was ready and took the Kimber from Frank’s hands. At this point the man in the chair was slumped forward, head hanging down toward his chest. He was still conscious enough, but in obvious pain from having a significant amount of medical procedures performed without the aid of any painkillers.

“Shoot him in the shoulder, the kneecap, and the stomach. You’re working on shooting and aim right now as well, so make the shots count. And make sure to make ‘em quick, just like you would in the field.”

So Harry shot. He aimed, breathed, pressed the trigger quickly, and absorbed the recoil. He was a good shot by this point. He was pretty proud of that fact. From the look on Frank’s usually stoic face, his dad was pretty proud of Harry’s performance too.

The man in the chair screamed through the gag as the bullets hit and blood began to drip from the hole in his shoulder. The hole in his stomach was producing a small stream of blood that kept stuttering to a stop when the man’s abdomen clenched. Then it would start again, dribbling out down into his navel and on down into his groin. His kneecap was the worst visible carnage, though. There was nothing left of the actual kneecap, only a hole through the leg.

Harry quite liked shooting Frank’s gun.

With Frank’s guidance, Harry first tended to the gunshot to the stomach, applying pressure and stopping the flow of blood. He took the provided tweezers and dug out the slug then applied a clotting bandage and taped the wound. He removed the shot from the shoulder and bandaged and wrapped that. Then he moved to bandaging where the man’s knee used to be.

By now, the man’s blood had pooled in large puddles beneath the chair on the tarp, and the smell of urine, from where he had let his bladder go, filled the room. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust that he was unable to hold it in during his ‘interrogation’.

Frank held up a hand and motioned Harry away from where he was working. He walked up to the man and removed the headphones to whisper into the man’s ear. Harry couldn’t make out the words, but the man whimpered again through his gag and nodded. Frank removed the gag from his mouth and the man started spouting a litany of Italian words. Harry had no clue what he was saying, but Frank seemed to understand as he was responding in Italian himself. Finally, the man had no more words and just sat there, pale, shaking and reeking of sweat, urine and blood.

Frank looked up at Harry and motioned him back over. “Well, we got what we needed, and I think you learned quite a bit.”

Harry nodded, pleased with his accomplishments.

“Now, we need to finish this. You never start a job unless you intend to follow it through. Understand?”

Harry nodded again in agreement. “How are we going to finish it?”

“You mean how are you going to finish it, don’t you?” Frank asked shrewdly, narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Harry chuckled sheepishly.

Frank brought his finger and thumb to his chin in consideration, looking at the man in the chair who had finally passed out from pain. “So, you can use your knives, or I’ll let you use my gun. Your choice.”

Frank said this while looking at Harry, but it seemed that he already knew what Harry was going to choose, since he was setting the gun aside on the bench. He snorted quietly when Harry immediately grabbed his knife and gave Frank a feral smile, full of teeth.

“Yeah, kid,” Frank smirked, “that’s what I thought.”

That night Harry learned the beauty of a well-executed Colombian necktie. They wrapped the body and set it aside for Frank to dispose of later. The room was cleaned and disinfected from top to bottom and any evidence of their visitor was either burned, dropped in a landfill or (in the case of the man’s tongue) delivered to the Gnucci family. He was, after all, a snitch. They’d be pretty happy that he was taken care of.

Closing up the basement, Frank stopped and gripped Harry’s shoulder, looking at him evenly. “You did real good, kid. You made me real proud.”

Soaking up the praise, Harry grinned at Frank. Then he stopped again on the stairs, “Hey Frank? Can I learn Italian too?”

Frank ruffled Harry’s hair and chuckled lowly, curling his lip into a small smirk. “Sure, kid, I’ll teach ya all the languages I know.”

When the night was done and the weapons were clean, Harry sat on his bed contemplating all he had learned. He would be able to help Frank now with any major injuries. He was so proud of his new knowledge.

More than that, however, he was proud that he had done well in Frank’s eyes.

- Early July, 1991 (Almost 11 Years Old) -
- Kuwait City, Kuwait -

From his sniper nest on the top of a crumbling building in Kuwait, Harry watched through his scope as Frank infiltrated a building below. They had received intel that it held some compromising files some of the Marines who fought in Desert Storm. He was thrilled to be along for the mission, even though he wasn’t allowed to actually be down in any of the fighting. To be trusted to have Frank’s back was enough.

He waited for anything to happen that would show that something was going wrong, but Frank was more than competent. Nothing was going to happen.

Still, being there at all was plenty for him.

As he lay there, assessing the situation below, he felt a niggling sensation at the back of his neck. He turned slightly, keeping his aim steady, only to see a…

Was that an owl? In the daylight? In the middle of Kuwait?

It was an owl! It seemed to be carrying some sort of envelope. And it was headed right toward Harry’s sniper nest.

He watched with blatant interest as it flew closer and closer, eventually landing right next to him. It seemed exhausted, as if it had traveled very far. It regally (can owls even be regal?) lifted its leg and presented Harry with the envelope.

Thoroughly confused at this point, Harry cautiously reached out with his gloved hand to grab the envelope from the owl’s grasp. (“Never touch anything that could potentially carry poison or some other such agent, kid. Always check for anything that could kill you.”) The letter didn’t look like it was going to hurt him. In fact, as he turned it over to read the front, he was shocked. It was addressed… to him!

What…

the…

fuck...

Frank was going to flip his shit when he saw this.

Chapter Text

Frank was going to flip his shit when he saw this.

- August, 1991 (11 Years Old) -
- New York, Sanctum Sanctorum -

Harry had been right. Frank freaked right the fuck out. He thought that he had seen Frank angry before, like when they were interrogating a snitch or taking out someone who was working with the mob or involved in some other criminal activity. But he was wrong. So very, very wrong.

Apparently, no one should even think of messing with Frank Castle’s family. Especially trying to fuck with his son. (Because, even though the papers were forged, Frank considered Harry his son, and nothing in the world would ever change that. It was such a novel idea to Harry to have someone consider him important enough to fight for.)

The first thing they did was leave Kuwait as quickly as possible. (After finishing their mission and blowing up a building or two, much to the enjoyment of Harry.) Heading back to New York, they considered what the letter could mean for the both of them.

“Why would I get a letter (delivered by an owl, no less) from some school for witches and wizards, Frank?” Harry asked in a slight panic.

“No clue, kid. Never heard of the place, and I’ve heard of some pretty freaky ass shit,” Frank replied, rubbing his temple in frustration.

“And how did they know where I was? I mean the letter was addressed exactly to where my sniper nest was located! Exactly!! I mean it didn’t say that I was on the left side of the building behind those palettes, but it was pretty freakin’ spot on! We staked that spot out for days and no one knew we were in the country except for Wade. Wait, do you think that he did this??”

Harry’s panic was beginning to reach epic levels the more he thought about the absurdity of being delivered a letter on top of a building during a classified op. By an OWL!!!

“If he did… I’ll kill him, wait for him to come back to life, let you kill him, and then we can rinse and repeat until we both feel better,” Frank grumbled in frustration while pinching the bridge of his nose.

Harry snickered at the thought of killing Wade over and over. “You always come up with the best plans, sensei. You say, I do, no questions.”

“I should have never let you see that goddamn movie,” Frank grumbled.

Harry giggled and ducked away from Frank's ineffective attempt to cuff him on his head.

It wasn’t Wade who sent the letter.

It wasn’t Red, or anyone else in Hell’s Kitchen.

It wasn’t anyone they knew.

Frank checked with all his sources, leaning on all of his contacts while trying to find out who could have known their location. Or who could have sent a freakin’ letter by owl. Or what the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry even was.

Everything regarding the school came up blank. The magic angle, however… well, Frank did have a couple sources who could help with that.

Finally, it was Professor X who pointed them in the direction of one Dr. Stephen Strange. He was, after all, the Sorcerer Supreme and dealt with all things magical on earth and in the universe. (Or some such bullshit, according to Frank. He really wasn’t a fan of magic all that much. “Give me a gun that I can hold over some magic mumbo jumbo any day, kid.”)

“Sorry, I don’t think I heard you right. I have what?” Harry coughed out incredulously.

“Natural magic, young man,” Dr. Strange stated drolly as he performed some tests(?) while swirling his arms about and forming sparkling shapes in front of Harry. “You’re one of the rare humans who was born with it, and not mutated. You don’t appear to have the X gene at all.”

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion and squeaked, “Mutated??” Frank just face palmed. This was a clusterfuck.

“Of course, you’ll need to learn how to wield your magic safely and hone your talents. However, from what I can tell, you’ll be quite powerful once you’re trained.”

Harry stood there, dumbfounded. He glanced over at Frank, who didn’t seem to be taking this new information any better, judging by the giant scowl on his face.

“But I fight with guns… and knives. Real things. I know jack shit about magic ‘cept what’s in movies and whatever.”

“Ah, lovely. I can see that our Mr. Castle has had a wonderful influence on you and your vocabulary.” He glared over at Frank who simply flipped him a rude gesture.

Harry grinned. Damn right Frank was a good influence.

“Well, whether you know jack shit about it or not,” Dr. Strange told Harry sarcastically, “you will still need to learn. You need to get trained correctly. The likelihood of you causing damage to yourself and others with untrained magic increases the more you wait.”

Harry looked down at his boots, gloomily considering his new situation. He looked at Dr. Strange before asking quietly, “Would I have to leave Frank?”

“Nah, kid,” Frank quickly interjected as he glared balefully at Dr. Strange. “He’ll get ya trained up in this magic bullshit, but I’ll still be around. You’ve still got work to do with me. After all, we have to make sure you stay on top of your other skills, too. Don’t worry, you’re not gonna get rid of me that easily.”

Leaning over, he placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed gently. One side of Frank's mouth curled into a small smile. “You’re my kid. I stole ya fair and square. Forged the papers and everything, remember?” He gruffly whispered in Harry’s ear. It helped Harry calm down immensely.

“Okay,” Harry nodded at Dr. Strange, “Let’s do this magic shit. I’ll train with you.”

Dr. Strange’s eyes bored into him, making him feel like an insect under a microscope. “I expect full cooperation. Full commitment. This is not something to be taken lightly. You will work long and hard. However, the benefits will far outweigh the cost of all the time and dedication.” He paused and narrowed his eyes before continuing, “But heed this warning, young man, I will accept no disrespect or slacking off. I do not have time to waste on children who do not follow simple direction.”

Nodding again, Harry smirked and said impishly, “You say, I do, no questions.”

Frank snorted.

- 1991 to 1996 (11 to 16 Years Old) -
- New York… USA… and the World -

Dr. Strange was a hard taskmaster. He focused on having Harry pull energy from outside sources to build his magical core. Harry learned to use conjured weapons as well as his physical ones. He had to admit that he still preferred the physical ones. (There was something so soothing about repetitively sharpening a knife or calmly cleaning a weapon after a kill.) But, he listened to all that Dr. Strange said and learned all he could about using his magic to better enhance himself as a fighter.

While he was training up in both magic and martial arts, combat and weaponry, Wade kept calling Harry The Mini-Punisher. However, through his training and growth spurts, he finally got too big for that title. (Thank god he didn’t have any lasting issues from his crappy upbringing. He was almost as tall as Frank now.) So, in deference to Harry’s tendency to enter into a situation with his mentor and exterminate anyone in his path, Wade dubbed him (a little jokingly) The Scourge. After all, he did wipe out everything indiscriminately and leave no survivors.

Frank snorted at Harry’s new moniker. Then, he actually laughed a genuine belly laugh at the silly name. (Harry flipped him the bird.)

But the name stuck. And frankly, Harry liked having his own title. It made him feel like he was even more included in the little menacing group of mercenaries that made up his family.

After a couple of years, the criminal underbelly figured it out. The Punisher and The Scourge were definitely not people you wanted to come across if you were on the wrong side of the law. No matter the location, they’d infiltrate, execute, destroy, then vanish without anyone being able to prove that they were there in the first place. (Most of the evidence was usually blown to bits anyway.) And, with the aid of Harry’s magic, they could get into almost any site undetected. He was able to make himself and - if he concentrated really hard - someone else invisible to those around him.

He especially liked it when Frank would let him show off by blowing up parts of buildings or through walls by use of his raw magic. Frank, on the other hand, would only roll his eyes and grump that at least Harry was saving them money on the cost of blasting caps and explosives.

God, he fucking loved his magic.

- August 3^rd, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- London -

Harry didn’t, however, like it when they took missions around London. It might have been almost nine years ago that he was ‘adopted’, but he still hated being anywhere near his old relatives’ home. It brought back all the anger he felt from when he lived there.

He had assumed that he had gotten rid of that portion of his rage when he killed them all. He thought he had dealt with it by getting revenge for his piss poor excuse for a life back then.

He was still fuckin’ mad, though, soooo… obviously not.

Harry frowned sulkily as he walked down the street, passing by shops and restaurants, ensuring that his face was never seen on any camera. At least he had gotten killing his relatives out of the way early in his life. Now he could just focus on living his own life, concentrating on whatever mission came along.

London streets were easy to traverse, and no one really paid attention to him. Even dressed as he was in his black tac pants, boots, black shirt with his signature white skull drawing with two daggers crossed behind it, and long black leather trench coat - weapons not visible, but definitely present. Even dressed like this, he was mostly ignored.

His clothes weren’t the only unapproachable thing about him. After requesting (read: begging) that he be allowed to dye his hair, Frank finally gave in. He let Wade help him dye a streak of silver in his hair and shave the sides and back short so that it fell into his eyes in a long mohawk. (He looked fuckin’ cool, according to himself and Wade.)

He was so happy he didn’t have to wear those awful glasses anymore, either. Apparently, it was worth it to Frank to spend the money to go to a legitimate surgeon and get him cataract surgery. (Even though that surgeon was in Singapore. Harry was just glad he didn’t have to get it done at the ‘night clinic’ in Hell’s Kitchen.) Frank obviously cared way more about Harry and his eyesight than his relatives ever did. They barely even cared that he had glasses, let alone the right prescription. (Thank fucking god, too, because glasses and sniper scopes are a serious no-fuckin’-go.)

For those who did notice him, he probably looked like an antisocial delinquent stalking down the street.

He didn’t really care at the moment, though. No, he was just pissed that he was back in London.

But even more than being annoyed about London, he was sulky about the fact that Frank had left him here in one of their safehouses and fucked off to god knows where to do a job for a week. Right after his fuckin’ sixteenth birthday, no less. (Some fuckin’ birthday trip this was turning out to be.)

“It’s a one-man job, kid. Easy. Pay’s good. No fuss. In and out. I’ll be done and back before you can fill yourself up on fish n’ chips or some other crap. I know it’s supposed to be just us for your birthday trip and all, but this is too good to pass up. You’ve got the bank codes for here. Hit the town, or something. Stay anonymous, sure, but find something to entertain yourself. It’s the end of summer. Go see the sights, or some shit, before you have to go back to Dr. Strange for more training this fall.”

Frank was off the grid completely. He sent a code a couple days prior, informing Harry that he had arrived just fine and wasn’t dead. Harry knew his general location, but it would be a week or so before he was able to come back online.

Harry scowled for another moment then sighed. At least there was cool shit to see in London.

Twisting his hand in a circular motion, Harry brought some of his magic around him to further buffer any unwanted attention. He may have been quite skeptical when Dr. Strange started training him, but the good Doctor was right. The benefits did far outweigh the cost of all that hard work. He wasn’t as high up with his abilities on the Sorcerer Supreme ladder as Dr. Strange, and frankly he didn’t want to be. But he was good. Real good. And he was powerful, he thought with a smirk.

Winding through West End, Harry felt a grumble of hunger hit his stomach. Food - first priority, then, something to waste some time on before he returned to their safehouse.

Up ahead he noticed a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. Snickering at the name (magic!), he made his way through the door and was hit by the smells of autumn: pumpkin, shepherd’s pie and stale ale. This place was his and Frank’s kind of dive.

He scanned the entrances, exits and who would cause the most issues in a fight. Seeing nothing of note, he made his way to the back. He went to seat himself so the wall was to his back in order to see the comings and goings while he ate. As he reached the wall, however, he noticed a shimmer along the bricks. He turned to see if anyone was watching… they weren’t… before running his hand along the bricks.

They moved. Oh shit! The freakin’ bricks moved!

He pressed them, and under a shimmering wall of invisible magic, he watched as they moved and parted, opening a doorway for him to walk through.

He looked around again, trying to see if anyone else saw what he did. No one seemed to be paying attention to him at all. Either these people had seen this happen before, or they couldn’t see it because he was the only one who could.

It didn’t matter, though, Harry had to investigate now. Frank did tell him to go find something to entertain himself. (He probably wasn’t referring to magic walls or doorways, but what Frank didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.)

With his hand near his thigh holster and a knife up his sleeve, Harry prepared for the worst and stepped through the doorway into one of the loudest and busiest alleyways he had ever seen.

The alley was bright and bustling. Wares lined the street. People passed by him while wearing ridiculous Halloween getups, complete with pointy hats. Their robes made everyone look like an extra out of Hocus Pocus. (Wade made him watch that every year because, "You're a wizard, Harry Potter." Harry just rolled his eyes at his antics and punched him.)

He skirted by people, trying not to gape at the sights, while keeping a hand close to his weapons. Turning down a darker alley with more shadows to hide in, he noticed a tall, pale man, about late 40’s, standing in front of a store called Borgin and Burkes. His brown hair, with a little gray at the temples, was cut short and styled in a 50’s pompadour, slightly curled and parted down the side. He wore long black robes. (No pointy hat.) The man gave off an aura of danger that made the hackles on the back of Harry’s neck rise. (“Trust your gut, kid. If someone seems ‘off’, they’re probably ‘off’.”)

The man took a pocket watch from his robes to check the time. Then, he turned and made direct eye contact with Harry.

Harry had never seen red eyes before. Holy crap, they looked cool! (He’d have to ask Frank if he could get some colored contacts or something, maybe black ones. Green eyes were cool and all, and kind of matched the whole Scourge theme, but red?) The man’s eyes were awesome!

As Harry looked at the man’s eyes, the man returned his gaze calmly. He tilted his head to the side curiously.

Harry felt pressure behind his forehead and quickly envisioned his magic surrounding his mind to shield himself, just as Dr. Strange had taught him. His first priority was to protect his mind. His next priority was to protect his body. He twitched his fingers and hastily cloaked himself with invisibility.

The man jerked in apparent shock and looked at where Harry was still standing, hopefully invisible. He stared for a long moment before walking toward Harry.

Drawing his knife, Harry regulated his breathing to slow, quiet breaths. (“Keep calm, kid. Make sure that even in shitty situations you keep your body calm, cool and collected. This will save you more times than not.”) He readied himself for an attack, just in case the man could see through his magic. Fortunately, the man glanced around the alley in slight confusion, then walked right by where Harry was standing, muttering to himself about 'Chosen Ones' and ghosts.

After the man passed him by, Harry sucked in a relieved breath. This place was weird.

He walked back to the main road, still maintaining his invisibility cloaking. It was easier just to observe this way. If he had been smarter and remembered Frank's nagging, he would have just been cloaked from the get-go. ("Always plan ahead, kid. Go into every situation with all the odds stacked in your favor.") He figured, though, better late than never.

With sensation overload from the noise and the weird stores, Harry almost missed the short, blond-haired girl with a slightly dazed expression who had come to a stop in front of him. He managed to regain some situational awareness and didn’t hit her, but it was a near miss. He shuffled quietly to the side so that she could pass him by.

But she moved with him, mirroring his movements. It seemed like her glazed eyes were staring right through his magic and into his soul.

“Hello, Harry. You look good as The Scourge. Kind of a silly name, but it fits you, I think.”

Well, shit. Why did this stuff always happen when Frank wasn’t there? Harry was going to be in so much trouble. No amount of 'wax on, wax off' was going to get him out of this one.

Chapter Text

No amount of 'wax on, wax off' was going to get him out of this one.

- August 3^rd, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Diagon Alley -

“You can see me?”

The girl tipped her head to the side and smiled, “Of course I can see you, silly boy. How could I not? You are standing right in front of me. Not only that, but you really stand out with all those Nargles flying around your head.”

Harry nodded dumbly, horribly confused about what his life even was right then. Shifting nervously and dropping into a defensive crouch, he let his knife fall into his hand. He brought it closer to her body, ready for whatever fight this girl could bring. (He’d fought Wade enough to know that ‘crazy people’ fight back hard. He should have brought some tin foil or something shiny to distract her. Crazy people always like shiny things.) He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed him standing there with the girl. They were all passing the two of them by, oblivious to the fact that he was even there.

She must have looked silly standing there ‘talking to herself’, Harry thought. (Then again, she was crazy.) Of course, she seemed the type of person who did not really care if people thought she looked kind of weird.

And, what the hell were Nargles?

“What the hell are Nargles?” (Real smooth, Harry.)

“Oh, don’t worry about them so much. They’re nowhere near as bad as Wrackspurts or Heliopaths, but I would watch out just in case. Once you have them following you around,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “it is very hard to get rid of them.” She reached out and patted him lightly on the arm.

(He will maintain until his dying breath that he did not flinch away from the light touch of the tiny, sprite-like girl.)

“You can put the knife back, Harry. You don’t need to kill me today. At least I don’t think so. Although the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks might disagree. I should check with them.” She smiled dreamily up at Harry, “I promise not to say anything about you being here. However,” she paused, twirling a lock of her blond hair and fiddling with her cork (really???) necklace, “you should at least consider letting Tom and your uncles know you’re in Diagon Alley. They miss you, you know.”

Harry sucked in a quick breath. Just who was this girl? And how did she know anything about him? (And who the hell was Tom???)

Harry stared at her for a moment, wondering if he had accidentally inhaled some Penthrox in the safehouse before wandering through that wall. The only way that this girl could possibly be making any sense to him was if he was high on the anesthetic. He needed to get out of there… fast.

“Oookay, um, well it was nice (read: bizarre) meeting you, but I’ve gotta go.” He took a couple steps back away from the petite, crazy person.

She hummed quietly and held up a finger for him to be quiet and stop moving. “Yes, yes, I can see now.”

Nope. Nada. ไม่.⁽¹⁾ Nothing doing. Нет.⁽²⁾ Nein.⁽³⁾ Non c'è modo.⁽⁴⁾ いいえ.⁽⁵⁾ And ‘hell to the no’ in every other language that he had been taught.

He wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t going to stick around and see what other kind of freaked out shit this girl could pull out of thin air. Slowly backing away from this pint-sized (albeit pretty) lunatic, Harry looked for the fastest escape route back to that magical hole in the wall. She was crazier than Wade! (And that was saying a lot!)

“Hmm, you do need to go,” she said distractedly. “The Punisher is coming back soon, isn’t he? Don’t worry, Scourge. He’ll help you when you find out all that happened to you and your family. Your old family, that is. The Potters.”

She clapped her hands in delight and exclaimed, “Oh, this is so wonderful! The immortal one will come before long, too!” She predicted these things while giving him a small smile. “He seems kooky, but I like the red outfit and the big swords. They're much neater than a wand.” Her eyes shot to his and seemed to clear for a moment. “Oh, but you don't need one of those, do you Harry? Hmm, yes. This will be fun. I can't wait for school!”

Harry thought, at this point, that she was the only kooky one. And he was getting about as freaked out as one could possibly be when you were supposed to be invisible and you were so undercover that no one was supposed to have your personal information. Seriously. What… the… fuck…

“Also, make sure you go to Gringotts before you leave to go back overseas. They’ll be able to tell you quite a bit more.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. Ok, this was… too weird. Yeah, he was done. Turning on his heel he quickly stepped into the shadows, weaving in and out of people as he made his way quickly back to the wall as fast as his feet would carry him.

As he ran he heard her yelling after him that she would see him soon at Hogwarts.

He really did not feel comfortable in this place. He needed to get out of here… like, yesterday.

- London Safehouse -

Harry was not okay. He was not okay. He was categorically and exceedingly not okay.

Some weird girl had mentioned Frank, who he couldn’t get ahold of right now, and she knew all of those things about him. Stuff that no one but Frank, Wade and a couple other tights-wearing people knew. Not only that, but what was all that crap about Tom, and Gringuts? And she mentioned Hogwarts! They hadn’t been able to find out anything about the school even after an extensive search.

Of course, thinking logically (as much as he could in his minor panic), it would make sense that a whole bunch of people dressed up like witches and wizards would know where the school for witches and wizards was. Duh, Harry.

This situation had ‘hard nope’ written all over it. He just knew coming anywhere near London was a bad idea! Fuckin’ London.

Checking all of the locks and traps again, he tried to calm himself.

Pacing the living room with his phone in his hand, he kept checking to see if Frank had sent any distress signal or ‘all clear’ code. He kept looking for any communication from him. Needing to know if he was coming back. Needing to hear anything.

Nothing.

Okay, he told himself. He was the all intimidating, exterminating, destroying Scourge. He could handle this himself. He didn’t need help. He didn’t need Frank. Didn’t need his dad to save him.

(Yes he did.)

Realizing that Frank would probably be pissed if he tried to do anything about this by himself (read: so angry that Harry would probably be in deep, deep shit when Frank found out), he sent out a few messages and sat on the couch to wait for the replies. He knew that Frank wouldn’t be able to answer since he was still on his op, but maybe he could get a little help from another sector. After all, Frank wasn’t the only guy he knew with a bad attitude and a penchant to leave destruction in his wake.

A few minutes later he received his reply.

Da Crew: Dead & Patch
—————

(Patch) 14:42

sit tight bub we r on our way

(Scourge) 14:42

we?

(Dead) 14:47

aloha hoy! im comin too! we cn get lei’d

(Dead) 14:47

*waggles eyebrows*

(Scourge) 14:48

wrng hmsphre dmbass *rolls eyes*

(Dead) 14:51

awww no babe! k - put another shrimp on the bahbie!

(Dead) 14:52

the dingo ate my baby!

(Scourge) 14:53

wrng cntry try agn

(Dead) 14:55

london calling!!

(Scourge) 14:56

better *slow clap*

(Dead) 14:59

author says this is gonna be da bomb *evil laugh*

(Dead) 15:00

ooh want anotha cuppa tea gov’na?

(Dead) 15:00

fish 'n chips!

(Dead) 15:01

tickety boo!

(Dead) 15:01

bangers n mash!

(Scourge) 15:02

staaap ur jst sayin british shit now

(Dead) 15:04

u know it mini - menace! road trip!!!! er plane trip!!! warm up the welcome wagon n find a decent place 4 chimichangas!!! the cavalry is comin across the pond!

(Patch) 15:05

yeah - tried to rid myself of the red annoyance but hes comin with n wont shut up bout magic n seeing the queen

(Scourge) 15:07

*snort* coo thx gys

(Scourge) 15:08

could do it myslf but happy 4 hlp

(Patch) 15:17

no problem bub

(Dead) 15:19

time 2 parrrtaayyy!!!

(Dead) 15:21

id keep talking but patch got his claws out

(Dead) 15:22

o cute hes growling

(Dead) 15:32

OW!

(Dead) 15:35

claws hurt

(Dead) 15:36

i should put away the phone

(Dead) 15:42

he skewered me again

(Dead) 15:45

dont worry… i got better

(Patch) 15:51

shut up

Harry was thrilled when Logan and Wade finally made it to the safehouse. He might have been almost an adult (and done lots of things that most adults had never done – like having a way higher kill count), but sometimes he just needed an actual adult to help him out with the hard stuff. (Wade didn't really count as an adult, even though he tried.) He needed someone for situations like this… when he had encountered a crazy girl after he walked through a magic door into a magic alleyway and got told about Hogwarts and to go visit some guy named Tom. (You know, the kind of situations that happen every day or so.)

“So this bodacious bitty Betty Boop said that you needed to find 'Tom' and your uncles? Wait, we're not finding 'Uncle Tom', right? I don't think I'm down with that kind of negativity in my life. Oh! Did she point out a white rabbit to follow or at least pull one out of her pointy hat?”

Harry dragged his hand down his face in frustration. “It’s not that kind of magic, Wade. But it was fuckin’ bizarre. She knew all this stuff about me. She mentioned that school I was supposed to go to. She even knew that you were coming. She called you ‘kooky’.” Harry punctuated his statement with finger quotes.

Logan grunted and jutted his chin in Wade’s direction. “He is kooky. And, yeah, bub, that seems strange.”

“Hey! I resemble that remark!” Wade gasped, clutching dramatically at his chest.

Harry paced back and forth in the living room, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Can we pleeeeaaase focus? Frank’s already gonna kill me when he gets back. I know I shouldn’t have gone through some crazy magic doorway without someone watching my six. I just need some help, maybe, I don’t know, with backup. I want to go back in and see about the stuff she was talking about. Guys, she knew about Hogwarts. Only the X-Men, Dr. Strange, Matt and Foggy, and Frank and I know about that letter.”

He turned pleading green eyes to the two men standing there as they listened to his rant. “Remember how hard we tried to find out about where that place was? Remember Frank flipping the fuck out? Remember? I sure as hell remember. I hadn’t seen that much blood in a looong time. He’s gonna do that this time too, I just know it. If we get some answers before he shows up we (read: I) might not have to deal with that big of a blowup. (And hopefully not literally, although... it is Frank we’re talking about here.) And I think the school might be around here! I think I should maybe try to find Tom, or that Gringuts (Greengoots?) place. They might have some answers or something.” He took a deep breath after his tirade and plopped down on the couch. Damn. He hoped they agreed to help.

Wade snickered, “OOooh, Bitty Baby Scourge is scared of the Big Bad Punisher…”

Harry gawked at him in disbelief. “Uh, yeah. He’s like… my dad? Have you met him?? And do you not remember the last time that you and I pissed him off???” (Although, both Harry and Wade would agree that getting ‘lost’ in Rio de Janeiro during a mission and ending up dancing in a parade with topless dancers during Carnival was kind of totally worth it.)

“He shot you in both shoulders and then stabbed you in the neck for takin’ off with me and not tellin’ him where we were!! I’m lucky I just got grounded for bein’ a co-conspirator!!!” He shouted into the room, gripping his hair in frustration.

God, he needed to calm the fuck down. Panicking was not going to solve anything. (“Stay calm, kid. Deep breaths before you take on a big mission. Go in with a clear head. No one ever won anything by goin’ in half-cocked.”)

Logan grunted, with what Harry assumed was his version of a laugh, and rifled through the fridge. He grabbed one of Frank's beers and popped it open on one of his claws. (They're multi-use!) He took a long pull before sighing deeply through his nose. “Alright, bub, calm yer tits. We’ll help. Not standin’ in the way of Frank’s punishment for ya when he hears about this, but we’ll help,” Logan finally agreed.

Chapter Text

“Not standin’ in the way of Frank’s punishment for ya when he hears about this, but we’ll help,” Logan finally agreed.

- August 4^th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Diagon Alley -

By majority agreement Harry and Logan decided they would go back into the magical alley and see what they could find out without Wade tagging along. (Wade wasn’t even allowed to vote, due to his penchant for making every situation into either a bloodbath or a dissertation about proper Mexican food.) Hopefully they could find that Grenguts place the crazy girl had told him to go check out. He wasn’t feeling too optimistic about finding some random guy named ‘Tom’, but he could at least ask around subtly. (As subtle as Wolverine and Scourge could be. Probably better than Deadpool, but not by much.)

Harry felt good about having Logan at his back while they went on this little recon. (His dad would have been a better choice, but needs must.) Frank would very much approve that he had chosen the responsible adult out of the two available to him. (And maybe not rip him a new one for having gone off half-cocked in the first place – Yeah, no, that was wishful thinking on Harry’s part.)

Harry took Logan to see the Leaky Cauldron. He didn’t think that he could stomach actually eating inside the pub after his last experience in the place. Just the thought of actually eating there made his skin crawl. So, they grabbed some dinner of Tikki Masala before their journey into the magical land of what the fuck. (No, they didn’t eat chimichangas, thank you very much, Wade.) A much better choice, seeing as the dive restaurant had no magical walls to fall through. Logan even grumbled his approval.

Taking Logan through the Leaky Cauldron, he could tell that the man’s hackles were raised. When Harry asked what was wrong, he merely grunted about a weird smell coming off of a couple of the people there.

“Like bad B.O. or somethin’?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Nah, like… some sorta animal. Some of ‘em almost feel feral. Wild. A little like me, but also a little different. Don’t like it. Don't like it one bit.” Taking a deep sniff, he shook his head and gave a small growl. He flashed a bit of his long eye teeth at a couple of the more dubious looking patrons then walked with Harry further to the back of the pub, toward the wall.

Harry understood his feelings. These people felt, well, off.

They reached the back wall and Harry pointed at the swirling and shimmering magic, trying to see if it was visible to Logan as well.

Logan just shrugged and said it must be some magic mumbo jumbo that only magical people could see. (Like Frank, he wasn’t too keen on the whole magic thing. He much preferred tactile fighting with his claws.) He said he could smell something, though, but couldn’t see any damn movin’ bricks. They looked just like normal bricks to him.

Harry took a deep breath and using the same pressing on the bricks technique that he used to get through the wall earlier that day, he opened the wall for the both of them. Logan stepped back, briefly lifting a brow in mild surprise. (His stoic facial expressions sometimes rivaled Frank’s – Harry assumed he was surprised.)

They walked through the hole in the wall, Logan going first with Harry on his six. People were not as loud this time around, and there were not as many milling around. They must have made a strange pair, standing out against the ‘normal’ clothing of the other people in the alley. Logan looked savage and hostile, sporting his classic leather coat, white muscle tank, worn jeans, scuffed black boots and (somewhat ridiculous) wild sideburns. Harry was still dressed in all black, same as the last time he had come, but he decided to add his leathers for comfort. (Anything to help him go into this bizarre situation.)

He noticed how Logan was scenting the air and drawing up his shoulders with obvious discomfort from the magic in the air.

Yeah, Harry felt that too, but they needed to focus. They needed find this Greenguts place.

He skirted in the darkened areas, showing Logan the side alley he went down earlier. He pointed out where he saw the red eyed man in front of the Borgin and Burkes store. Harry watched as Logan looked around the alley, probably just as confused as he was earlier that day. Taking his eyes off of where he was walking, he bumped into someone coming the opposite direction along the alley. (Jesus! Second time in one day. Attention to surroundings, Harry!)

Harry was getting taller (not a pint-sized Punisher anymore, thank you very much), but this man(?) was HUGE. Logan, who was a few inches shorter than himself, was positively dwarfed.

“Oh, 'm sorry. Didn't see ye there. ‘Ave t’ watch yerself when ye're walkin’ down into Knockturn, ye know, might meet yerself some unsavory characters,” the huge…uh…man (yes, Harry was sticking with calling him a 'man' for now) blustered, stepping back from where he and Logan stood.

Harry had to snicker, even through his shock over the look of the man, that he and Logan were not considered unsavory characters by this guy.

He had seen some big guys in his life (see also: Frank, people they fought with, and people they fought against), but no one close to the height and girth of this hairy behemoth. And Logan, well he had seen way too much shit with his X-Cronies. In fact, Logan probably wasn’t even really phased by this guy’s humongous stature.

Then again… Harry heard the telltale ‘schnick’ sound of claws coming out behind him. (So, maybe not so calm on Logan’s part.)

“Knockturn? Is that where we are?” Harry asked quickly, not really wanting to have to kill (or have Logan kill) some random man in an alley when they just discovered the place where he might get some answers about his life. (That, and the fact that cleanup of a body that size would be a monumental task and really cut into their evening's plans.)

The giant (yep, he changed his mind, 'giant' was what Harry was going with now) gave them an enormous smile, obviously oblivious to the fact that Logan’s claws were out and that Harry had more weapons on him than any 16-year-old ever should. Or any normal man. Or any abnormal man. Frankly, he just had a fuck ton of weaponry, honestly.

“Ye must be new ‘ere. Judgin’ from the accent, ye must be comin’ from America? Ilvermorny? Tis a good school, tis. Not nowhere near ‘s good as ‘Ogworts, but then again, nowhere is.”

(Ilvermorny? Ugh, just another thing to add to his list of ‘what the fuck is that’.)

“Did you say Hogwarts?”

The giant bobbed his head enthusiastically, “Yes, yes. Tis me ‘ome. Up past 'Ogsmead, it is. Best place in t’e whole world.” He dipped his head, “Professor Rubeus Hagrid at yer service.”

Harry stood in stunned silence, staring at the giant. This was it! He found it! He found Hogwarts! And after all the years that Frank and he were looking for it, all he had to do was walk through some magic wall!

Logan huffed in annoyance behind Harry, and the sound of his claws retracting brought him out of his reverie. “Pull yer shit together, bub. We best be gettin’ on our way.”

Harry gave Logan a quick nod in agreement, then he turned back to Professor Hagrid. “Would you also know where Greenguts is?”

The giant immediately nodded, apparently happy to help the two slightly menacing strangers trespassing in his world. (Not that he apparently noticed.) “‘Course I can tell ye where Gringotts is! Tis, after all, t’e only bank in all ‘o Diagon Alley.”

He pointed in the direction of a large, multistoried marble building with columns on the outside. A giant dragon sculpture sat atop, looking down at the intersection of the alley they were currently on and the road that Professor Hagrid had called Diagon Alley. It seemed quite imposing, looking down on the street and shops below.

This place was so fuckin’ cool! He couldn’t wait to show Frank!

- Gringotts -

Harry and Logan stood inside the bank, looking at the giant marble columns inlaid with gold filigree. The floor had an intricate design that subtly moved those waiting for the tellers closer to their goal. At the end of the main room a figure sat at a podium, writing in a giant book. (With a feather? Also, the man seemed like the shortest, ugliest person he had seen in a while. He resembled Sloth just a smidgen too much. Or one of those weird things from the Dark Crystal.)

Logan bumped his shoulder and inclined his head to the short man(?) on the podium. “Come on, bub, let’s get some answers for ya.”

They walked up to the creature (it was decidedly not a man) and Harry cleared his throat.

“Excuse me?”

The creature peered down at him over gold rimmed glasses. “Yes?” His voice was gravely and grating, like Frank after being blown up.

“Uh, yeah. I was told to come here?” Harry said in a small voice. (Not intimidated at all, thank you very much!)

“Hnnn, name?”

“Harry Potter,” Harry replied quickly. Logan placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed a little for comfort. This whole situation was making him uncomfortable.

The creature stopped his indifferent attitude immediately and an interested gleam showed in his eyes. “You have proof of this?”

Harry looked over to Logan who just shrugged. “I have, uh, some ID, I guess. A passport, if that will work.” (Or passports… in quite a few different names, but this creature did not need to know that.)

“Wait here,” the little creature ordered them gruffly. Harry thought that Frank would quite like these guys. They had the same temperament as him.

On the wall Harry noticed a poem scrawled into the marble:

Oh yeah, Frank would love these little fierce creatures. They appeared just as bloodthirsty as him.

The creature returned with another one following behind, and they both peered at Harry, seeming to judge his very existence. The first one pointed to the second. “This is Ragnok. He will deal with you now.”

Logan dipped his head in thanks while Harry followed Ragnok back through the bank, down long hallways and into, what he assumed, was Ragnok’s office.

“So you think you are Harry Potter,” Ragnok grated out.

“I know I’m Harry Potter.”

“Hnnn,” Ragnok rumbled. “You will provide a drop of blood for proof. We will see if what you claim is true. And, if it is not, then there are punishments most severe and final for trying to steal from Gringotts.” He curled his lips back (in either a grin or a grimace, it was hard to tell) showing pointed teeth that hadn't been seen by a dentist… ever. (Harry was suddenly very glad that Frank made him go to the dentist regularly.)

Harry looked at Logan questioningly. Logan looked from Ragnok then back to Harry. “It’s your blood, bub. Do what you think is right. Pretty sure Frank would be ok with it, though, seein’ as they seem to have some information for you. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never lost some blood before.”

Nodding in agreement, Harry slid out his favorite knife and readied to pierce his finger. Ragnok eyed the knife with undisguised interest before pushing a stiff piece of ancient looking paper toward him.

“One drop. Bottom of the parchment.”

Harry made a small nick in his left thumb, smearing a drop on the bottom of the parchment. Ragnok quickly took it back and gazed down at it while letting out a small ‘hnnn’ every once in a while.

“You are who you say you are.” (Yeah, Harry already knew that.) “I have more information to give to you. But first, since you are underage, where is your magical guardian?” He curled one side of his mouth up in a snarl while looking at Logan. “I am very aware that this… wolf… is not your guardian. I need you to have a legal guardian present. There is legal precedence we must follow.”

Coughing in surprise at the description of Logan, Harry asked, “My what?”

Ragnok scrutinized him once more then said a little too condescendingly, “Magical guardian. According to some of these documents, Gringotts has been sending owls to you for years, trying to fix the state of your accounts. There have been some... discrepancies. Since the wills were never read, the withdrawals have seemed a bit extreme in size for a trust.”

“Just wait a sec,” Harry huffed out in annoyance, slipping his knife back into his hand. (Logan braced his arm at this point, reminding him that it was probably not wise to just maim weird looking creatures in a magical bank.) “I’ve never heard of you guys. I’ve never been to this place. Shit, the first time I heard of you was yesterday when I was told by some cracked-out blond chick that you would have some answers about my childhood, or some shit. I don’t have a ‘magical guardian’ and my real ‘guardian’, my dad, is on a … business trip right now. He’ll be back soon, and I didn’t even know I had accounts here.”

He took a deep, fortifying breath. “For that matter, you’ve never tried to get ahold of me. The only time I’ve ever come in contact with an owl was in Kuwait and, believe me, I almost shit myself because that was fuckin’ bizarre. I would have remembered more of those shits comin’ around with random ass letters for me.”

Harry was spiraling into confusion and frustration. Logan grabbed the back of his leather collar, pulling him back from where he had stalked toward Ragnok’s desk in anger during his rant.

“Hnnn, yes, well. This does seem to be an issue. In fact, as I am looking over this paperwork, it seems that you do not actually have a ‘legal’ magical guardian at this time. There are a few listed, however they have never been acknowledged. The one we have been dealing with is not even listed under legal guardians. Hnnn. This is very disturbing. I am not sure who all has been dealing with your accounts, but there have been many mistakes. It seems there might be one or two openings coming up in the accounts management arena. Hnn. Yes, well, enough of internal politics,” He paused, shuffling the papers in front of him once more.

“You should have been brought here immediately after your parents died, and a magical guardian and proxy should have been established from their wills. Apparently those were sealed by the Wizengamot, though. Hnnn, it appears your proxy votes have still been used for the past 15 years, even without a declaration of a legal voter.”

Ragnok huffed a deep breath through his nose, “It is good that you came here before your 17^th birthday. It would have been much harder to fix this mess if you had reached your magical majority. I will send out notices. You will need to bring your guardian here tomorrow. We will read the wills of your parents and do an audit of your accounts. 1pm tomorrow should give me sufficient time to get everything in order.”

The grip Harry had on his knife was making his knuckles turn white. What was he saying? Harry should have had a magical guardian from the beginning? He should have had knowledge of magic from when he was born? Was he even supposed to live with the Dursleys? If not, who the fuck put him there? And, for that matter, are they still alive so that Harry can kill the shit out of them??

- London Safehouse -

Miyagi
—————

(Scourge) 22:45

alert code: miyagi

(Miyagi) 23:21

WTF ive been gone 3 days kid

(Miyagi) 23:21

report

(Scourge) 23:22

alive/snafu⁽²⁾

(Scourge) 23:23

dead n patch r here

(Scourge) 23:24

hgwrts issue

(Scourge) 23:24

found magic door

(Scourge) 23:25

shit wnt fubar⁽³⁾

(Scourge) 23:25

freakng out

(Scourge) 23:26

need u

(Miyagi) 23:34

sigh current body count

(Scourge) 23:36

0 so far

(Miyagi) 23:48

kk otw in 5 or 6 hrs

(Miyagi) 23:49

tying up loose ends here

(Scourge) 23:50

k angry tho need 2 fight smthng

(Miyagi) 00:06

kill dead

(Scourge) 00:07

not the same

(Miyagi) 00:22

find some shits to kill then but stay out of trouble

(Scourge) 00:23

copy

(Miyagi) 00:25

going dark be there in a bit

“He’s gonna come back in a few hours,” Harry told Wade and Logan in relief. “He should be here in plenty of time for that will reading and all the other bullshit we’ll have to do tomorrow, er, today. I seriously can’t believe what my life is right now. This shit is so fuckin’ weird.”

Logan grunted in agreement from his spot on the couch while Wade nodded and jiggled his leg with pent up energy.

“So, what do we do until then?” Wade suddenly asked, popping up from the recliner to pace around the living room.

Logan leaned back on the couch, a beer bottle sweating in his hand, and closed his eyes. Appearing relaxed (but probably not as much as he looked) he mumbled something about sleep.

Harry was way too keyed up to sleep. His teeth were on edge. His mind was a whirl of turmoil and anger. Someone had fucked him over and was continuing to do so. They had ruined his life. (Frank made it better, of course.) But, whoever they were deserved to pay! He needed Frank to come and help him sort all of this shit out. He needed a plan. He needed his dad.

But first, he needed to get some of this rage out.

“I can’t possibly sleep right now. I need to fight. I need to put my fist through someone’s face while stabbing them in the kidney. I need to curb-stomp someone and shoot them in the head execution style. I need to get bloody. I need to get some of this chaos out,” Harry declared.

Wade perked up at his tirade. “Well, well, well, Bitty Baby Scourge. Chaos is my middle name. Let’s go fuck some shit up!” He exclaimed as he pumped one fist into the air in excitement.

Logan slanted both of them a deadpan look then rolled his eyes. “Don’t get caught.”

Wade cackled.

Harry grinned, baring all his teeth. “No worries, Logan. Every now and then, you have to get a little bloody. It's good for the soul.”

He loved field trips with Wade.

- August 5^th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- London Docks -

Much later that morning, the London police were both pleased and frustrated to find the slaughtered bodies of an entire drug trafficking gang in a warehouse on the docks. At least twelve men were dead. (That could be identified.) Some had their throats slit; some of them had been beheaded. There were whole bodies and some that had been cut up. Every one of the skulls had been shot through the forehead first.

The overwhelming smell of human decomp filled the building. Blood pooled so thick on the floor of the warehouse that it had congealed into a rust colored soup the first responders had to kneel in. Rookie officers, who had never seen such carnage, ran from the scene and quickly lost their stomach contents on the side of the building.

Even with all the destruction, no direct evidence could be seen as to who perpetrated the horrific scene. It helped that the police did not look too much into processing the evidence that was there. Whoever was responsible, after all, did put a big dent into their city’s criminal activity. The news media across the country and even across the pond reported on the massacre, however the biased opinion was that the murdered men deserved it.

Chapter Text

Voldemort looked out at his inner circle who were seated around the long table inside Malfoy Manor. The fire alongside the table warmed the room slightly, but the room still had a pretentious and gloomy air. Never let it be said that Lucius Malfoy, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, did not flaunt his galleons. Honestly, Voldemort would have much preferred a more intimate gathering place like the Knights of Walpurgis had used. But, when one of your inner circle offers a secure place for a meeting behind their strong family wards, Voldemort would have to be a fool to refuse.

Nagini, his precious snake familiar, wrapped her large green body around the legs of his chair. She had to wrap around a couple times, as her body was nearly twelve feet long.

In reality, sitting there with his mind drifting as the meeting continued, Voldemort was a little bored. The same conversations were being held around him that had been held for the past few months. Years even. They were making headway in their mission, but not fast enough.

This meeting was nothing exciting, merely a weekly update on the goings on in the Ministry. He needed to ensure that more Death Eaters were being put into places of power in the government. That way, when he did finally run for minister under the guise of T. Marvolo Gaunt, he would have the backing of the whole Ministry and as much of the Wizengamot that he could get his hands on.

The wizarding world needed a change.

This fight was not about blood purity, no matter what ideals the Light claimed he had. No this fight was about the purity of magic. Albus Dumbledore, his Order of the Phoenix and the radical Light followers were corrupting the magic of the world. The wizarding world not only needed Light magic, but it also needed Dark, it needed gray.

All magic was good magic, it was just how people used it. After all, he always said that there was no good and evil, there was only power and those too weak to seek it.⁽¹⁾ Voldemort was not weak.

True, he had gone to ground after Dumbledore had concocted that whole conspiracy that he was responsible for the murder of the Potters. (As if he would murder such a prominent and powerful family who wanted to come and work with him to better the world, he scoffed internally.) It may have made him look weak to some, but he had no choice but to bide his time. He would need to work subtly from the inside to change the world. Dumbledore had his claws into too many pies and could sway people easily with that stupid grandfatherly twinkle in his eye. The bastard.

Voldemort was almost seventy, but in wizarding years that was barely over middle age. And, he had aged well, if he did say so himself. Not arrogance, merely the truth. He had plenty of life left to live.

Therefore, once they had all of their pawns in place and had taken out a few more foes, he would take his place in the public eye. He would be charismatic and caring. Wanting nothing but the best for the people. Open to different styles and types of magic. Welcoming the different creatures, not labeling them ‘Dark’ like the Light had.

Merlin! Fenrir and Lupin were two of his best followers. To even consider taking away their rights or making them drink that poison Wolfsbane potion would be tantamount to insanity.

Yes, this would happen. He and his followers would make it happen. It was taking time, but it would be worth it. The wizarding world would transition into a better way of living with their help.

He worked behind the scenes for now, having his followers enact his wishes. Violence, although not always the answer, was used when necessary. He knew his way around an unforgivable and would use them when warranted. (And had used them when warranted.) Torture was not his go-to option, but he did enjoy a well-deserved revenge session if someone had viciously wronged him or one of his followers.

He found at an early age that the ‘Light’ was not as Light as they seemed. After all, the current Leader of the Light (sarcasm dripped from that thought) was one of the most abusive wizards Voldemort had ever known. If only he had been able to fight back when he was put in that horrible situation back then.

Musing about the Potters brought forth the memory of earlier that day. That boy in Knockturn looked just like James Potter, with just a little bit of Lily in the eyes. Well, if James had a very odd hairstyle and was dressed in some sort of muggle clothing. He didn’t wear battle robes, that much was evident, but it was obvious his clothing was for fighting. Not only that, but they were well worn and obviously part of his normal dress.

He had felt the magic surrounding the boy as well. It felt wild… almost foreign. The boy was obviously a wizard of some sort, but there was no way that he was formally trained in any school that Voldemort could think of. Not with that much wild magic.

And then the boy was able to block his legilimency. Very few wizards or witches were powerful enough to block him. Again, Voldemort was not being arrogant, just honest. Few were strong enough occlumens to stop him from invading their minds. (Severus, the dour sourpuss, was one of his that could block him. This was actually a blessing since Severus worked near Dumbledore and therefore needed to block his mind at all times.)

That boy had just stopped him immediately with one glance. He hadn’t even had the chance to glimpse inside the surface thoughts. Those green eyes had met his, a silver-streaked black shock of hair falling into them, and immediately the boy’s mind had closed off.

Then he just vanished! No crack of apparition. No cloak covering him. No shimmering of disillusionment. He was just gone. All traces of him, magical and physical, disappeared in a second. Voldemort had never seen anything like it.

The encounter had perturbed him enough that he thought about bringing it up during the meeting, but he held back. He would bring it up to Severus later to get his opinion.

As he sat there contemplating the odd encounter, Lucius’ house elf Mipsy popped into the room and bowed deeply to Lucius.

“Mipsy be bringing letters from owls for most important of guests, Master Lucius,” she squeaked, bowing her nose low enough to touch the silver platter that held the sealed letters.

Lucius looked at her and nodded, “You may deliver them, Mipsy.”

Mipsy first came over to Voldemort and held out a letter. “I be giving you your letter, Lord Dark Voldemort, sir.”

Voldemort gave a small smile of thanks and took the note, noticing it was from Gringotts.

Curious.

--------------------
Attn: Dark Lord Voldemort
Heir of Salazar Slytherin
Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gaunt
A.K.A: Tom Marvolo Riddle
A.K.A: T. Marvolo Gaunt
A.K.A: He Who Must Not Be Named
A.K.A: You Know Who
Head of Table, Death Eater Meeting
Malfoy Manor
Wiltshire, England

Sir,

Gringotts requests your presence at the reading of a will, 1pm on the afternoon of tomorrow, the 5^th of August, 1996.

Measures will be made to ensure the privacy of all parties involved. Additional guests will be removed without regard to their personal safety.

Punctuality is expected. Tardiness will be viewed as insult, as death is the only acceptable excuse. The doors for the reading will close promptly at 1pm.

May your enemies die at your feet and your gold ever flow,

Ragnok
Warlord
Director, British Isles Gringotts
‘Warriors Fight the Worthy - There is No Honor in Fighting the Pathetically Weak’
--------------------

Well, he thought to himself while tapping the corner of the letter on his chin, this meeting just got a little more interesting.

Severus Snape enjoyed the Death Eater inner circle meetings. It was his chance to get away from the overbearing ‘holier than thou’ presence of one Albus Dumbledore. The odious man had been on Severus’ case regarding all the movements of Voldemort and if he was really still working ‘against’ the Light.

Dumbledore knew that Severus had followed Voldemort for a while during the First Wizarding War before the guilt trips over the losses of all the Light wizards and witches had been heaped upon his head. Eventually, being the young and still quite impressionable wizard he was back in the war, Severus had agreed to work for Dumbledore.

And he hated every minute of it right from the start.

As soon as he discovered that his true Lord had been framed for the deaths of the Potters (and Black had been set up to take the blame as well) he knew what kind of monster really lurked under those garish robes and false twinkly eyes. But there was nothing to be done. Lily was dead. Harry was gone without a trace.

All that was ever said to him… all the information that he ever got to keep stringing him along with hope was that ‘Harry was happy. Harry was healthy. Harry would return.’

Then came the year it all changed. Harry turned seven and Severus’ world imploded.

Harry wasn’t being kept in a safe house. No, he was being kept with the worst possible muggles there were. Petunia and Vernon. Even thinking the names made his skin crawl, and he was a war veteran that had seen many different types of torture sessions in his years. That poor little boy must have endured so much misery in that house. Even now, almost nine years after learning about his deplorable upbringing, Severus’ heart clenched in pain.

Merlin, how he wished when the Potters died that he had been the one to take Harry to Gringotts and claim him. He could have been the father and mentor that the boy needed. He could have raised him in a proper wizarding way, teaching him about potions. Of course, Lily’s boy would love charms and potions. He would, after all, obviously take after his mother.

He had to wonder where Harry was now. His name was called out by the Sorting Hat in the ceremony five years ago, but the Hat’s voice was met by a deathly silent Great Hall. Severus remembered his breath stopping for a moment and his heart dropping into his stomach at the thought that Harry might be there. He might have been living under everyone’s noses and had snuck into the line of first years.

But, no. It wasn’t to be. Harry never showed, and Severus was left with a hollow feeling in his gut and an overwhelming sadness that he might never see his best friend Lily’s little boy again.

This situation was all Dumbledore’s fault. He was the one who put Harry in that deplorable ‘home’. Even the Dark Lord and Severus had better living conditions while they grew up. (And that was saying a lot.) He could only imagine the abuse that little Harry experienced at the hands of those horrific excuses for muggles.

Why hadn’t Severus fought back more against the whole situation? He should have insisted that Dumbledore tell him where Harry was. Why did he just let those decisions be made around him without his input? Why did he allow Dumbledore to be in charge of anything in his life?

Yes, the man was very powerful, with all his accolades and his many seats and various titles. But Severus was strong now, too. He was a powerful wizard in his own right. A Master of Potions. He knew one hundred and one ways to kill a person without even leaving a trace. (He loved potions!) He could fight back.

All of this was why he loved inner circle meetings. These like-minded individuals were actually working to better the wizarding world. The Dark Lord had a good plan. One that, if they set things up correctly in the Wizengamot, the Ministry and Hogwarts, could allow them to usurp Albus Dumbledore. (He who has too many names.)

The meeting was interrupted half-way through by Lucius’ house elf Mipsy and her delivery of some letters. Severus watched as the Dark Lord’s eyebrows went up in slight curiosity while he read his letter, then he gave a small smile. Severus wondered what the letter contained.

As he was pondering the contents of the Dark Lord’s letter, Mipsy scuttled over to him and gave him his own missive.

--------------------
Attn: Professor Severus Tobias Snape
Head of Slytherin House, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Potions Master
A.K.A: Severus Tobias Prince
A.K.A: The Half-Blood Prince
A.K.A: Snivellus
Death Eater Meeting
Malfoy Manor
Wiltshire, England

Sir,

Gringotts requests your presence at the reading of a will, 1pm on the afternoon of tomorrow, the 5^th of August, 1996.

Measures will be made to ensure the privacy of all parties involved. Additional guests will be removed without regard to their personal safety.

Punctuality is expected. Tardiness will be viewed as insult, as death is the only acceptable excuse. The doors for the reading will close promptly at 1pm.

May your enemies die at your feet and your gold ever flow,

Ragnok
Warlord
Director, British Isles Gringotts
‘Warriors Fight the Worthy - There is No Honor in Fighting the Pathetically Weak’
--------------------

A will? Whose will could he possibly be a part of… unless… no! Where else would Gringotts get the name Snivellus!

Chapter Text

Remus Lupin sat next to his alpha at the table housing the Dark Lord’s inner circle of Death Eaters. His skin still felt over sensitive as he sat there, trying to follow along with the conversation that flowed around him. He glanced over to where Sirius sat fiddling with his wand and probably plotting a new way to prank some of the outer circle of Death Eaters. Remus let out a small chuckle over his friend’s antics.

The waning moon still pulled on his being, reminding him that only five days ago he and Fenrir had been running through the woods in their werewolf forms. They had spent their moon run checking on the pack and joining them for a hunt.

Being a strong pack beta for the vicious alpha who was his sire was a full-time and rewarding job. Not only that, but aligning their pack with the Dark Lord meant that when Voldemort finally took over the Ministry and put his plans into place, the darker creatures would have the same rights as witches and wizards.

If this had happened earlier in his life, he would have legally been allowed to take Harry after James and Lily died. As it was, Wizengamot and the Ministry took one look at his werewolf status and ignored his pleas to take his cub and raise him. Moony would have loved raising a cub. He would have taught him the proper pack etiquette. He would have shown him the ways of the wolf. He would have taught little Harry all about the power of the moon.

Moony, although a violent creature, loved to come out and play. And Remus loved that he had finally embraced that side of himself. When the Marauders were in school, Headmaster Dumbledore made it quite clear to all that he was only allowing Remus to attend on a trial basis. (Werewolves were feared and evil in the Headmaster’s eyes. They always would be no matter what the old goat said.)

Even though Remus was ‘accepted’ by the old man, he was never trusted. Remus always felt like he was pre-judged and found wanting due to his werewolf heritage. The only ones who truly accepted him for himself were James and Sirius. They even illegally became animagi so that they could all run in the Forbidden Forest on full moons. Prongs, Moony and Padfoot spent many a night exploring and running through the trees.

Very few people knew the real reason that Fenrir decided to turn Remus that night when he was only six years old. There was animosity between Fenrir and Remus’ father Lyall, yes, but Fenrir would never turn a child out of an act of malice or vengeance. He loved cubs. He considered them cherished parts of any pack and would rather die protecting them than hurt a single one. Even human cubs were off limits. Unless, of course, there were extenuating circumstances.

For Remus’ situation, there were extenuating circumstances.

Circumstances like the ones that Fenrir discovered when he went to visit one Mr. Lyall Lupin late in the evening in the Fall of 1966. Remus did not have the most wonderful relationship with his father. Lyall was not a loving man. He was not outwardly abusive, but he was extremely emotionally distant and abrasive toward his son.

His father did not take notice when Remus began to fall ill that night. Earlier that day Remus had been bitten by a rat while they walked through Knockturn Alley. The bite was quickly becoming a serious issue as the poison of disease flowed through the little boy’s body.

Lyall considered the boy to be merely whining and bothering him. Instead of helping his child, his focus was spent working on his issues in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and fighting against werewolves like Fenrir having any of the same rights as the witches and wizards in their world. He ignored the warning signs that his son was quickly falling into the first stages of the magical black plague, thought to be long eradicated from the wizarding world.

That fateful evening in 1966 when Fenrir stopped by their home to discuss the issues with werewolf packs and the Department, he immediately sniffed the air around Remus. Feeling nervous, Remus backed away and Lyall began to yell and threaten the giant werewolf. Fenrir, however, felt his wolf come forward in an effort to rid the boy of the deadly disease. He bit Remus to save him, not to hurt him. Through the lycanthropy flooding the sick boy’s system, the plague was healed.

Lyall was able to rally against Fenrir and fight him off and out of their home, but he never thought of helping Remus embrace the new side of his life. Thus, leaving Remus a werewolf for life with an alpha sire who was despised by his father and most of the wizarding world.

Needless to say, when Fenrir was run off, Remus’ life did not improve. He was shunned by his own father and considered a Dark and violent creature. He barely was able to make it through life in the wizarding world as a ‘Dark creature’. Instead he leaned toward his books to keep him company. That was, until he was able to attend Hogwarts and meet lifelong friends.

They just never figured that one of the Marauders’ lives would end so soon. And so violently.

Before the deaths of James and Lily, Remus had been thinking that moving to support Voldemort was a better option for them all. The Light side was quickly proving to be hateful and prejudiced toward those who were considered Dark creatures, like himself. He was becoming dissatisfied with the way that Dumbledore was treating him, running him around like the dog that the wizarding world considered him.

He hated it. He hated it all.

When James and Lily died and Harry disappeared, Remus felt empty and lost. He and Sirius, who had been out on their moon run that July evening, found quickly that Dumbledore had framed Sirius for the murders of their friends. They couldn’t return to the proper wizarding world without being persecuted, so they disappeared as well.

They met up with Fenrir’s pack and were welcomed in with open arms, even though Sirius was only human. However, being an animagus and sometimes a literal dog helped cement Sirius’ place among the werewolves.

The only time they ever heard about his little cub again was after his 7^th birthday when he disappeared again from the horrible home where he was living. Remus didn’t know the Dursleys, but after all that Severus and Sirius had told him, Moony would have definitely helped with their violent murders.

Sitting there and feeling good about his choices to become part of the group supporting the Dark Lord, Remus smiled wistfully at the thought of his cub. If only he could have done more. If only…

He was brought out of his reverie by Lucius’ house elf delivering letters to the Dark Lord and Severus. Sniffing subtly, he noticed the scent of surprise wafting off of the two men. He wondered what was in those letters, until he was handed his own by the diminutive elf.

--------------------
Attn: Mr. Remus John Lupin
Werewolf
A.K.A Moony
Death Eater Meeting
Malfoy Manor
Wiltshire, England

Sir,

Gringotts requests your presence at the reading of a will, 1pm on the afternoon of tomorrow, the 5^th of August, 1996.

Measures will be made to ensure the privacy of all parties involved. Additional guests will be removed without regard to their personal safety.

Punctuality is expected. Tardiness will be viewed as insult, as death is the only acceptable excuse. The doors for the reading will close promptly at 1pm.

May your enemies die at your feet and your gold ever flow,

Ragnok
Warlord
Director, British Isles Gringotts
‘Warriors Fight the Worthy - There is No Honor in Fighting the Pathetically Weak’
--------------------

Remus felt his heart clench as he read the notification. Fenrir must have smelled the surprise and wave of sadness come over him because a large hand reached over to grasp the back of his neck. Fenrir gave a firm squeeze for comfort. Remus nodded at him in gratitude then glanced back at the parchment in his hand, making sure that the words were still there. That the name was still there.

‘Moony’. Only one of the Marauders was dead. One dead friend and brother who called him that. Only one Marauder had never had their will read, as far as he knew. Only one of the Marauders had a child… Remus’ cub. Who was still missing… Who he still agonized over…

Sirius Black rolled his wand through his fingers and contemplated the next prank that he could play on Snivellus. Maybe he could turn his robes pink while he gave his report to the Dark Lord… No! Maybe his hair! He snickered to himself, thinking of the dour man with pink hair. Meeting Moony’s eyes across the table, he sent him a small smirk. Yeah, Moony probably knew what he was thinking about.

It wasn’t like he hated Snivellus or anything. In fact, he considered the man a good wizard and person. (Sometimes even a good friend.) It was just that he was so easy to annoy. And if there was one thing that Sirius loved and succeeded in doing, it was annoying people.

Many said that he had never grown up.

He just said that life was too short to not have any fun.

At one point in his life, when his father, mother, and brother were still alive, he knew his place in the world. He was being groomed to be the next Lord Black. Sirius had spent hours as a child learning the appropriate ways for an heir and Lord to act. As the eldest, he was in charge of looking out for his brother and setting the best example.

Merlin, he missed Regulus. His heart hurt remembering his brother. They hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but they had been brothers. Blood. And that was stronger than any animosity that could have possibly come between them.

Besides, they survived the insanity that was being raised by Walburga Black. (A true product of inbreeding and the Black madness. Of course, the same might be said about Sirius.)

He remembered being told that the Order of the Phoenix had captured and killed some Death Eaters. He recalled how his heart stopped when he was given the news that one of the ones who did not survive the fight was his little brother. His Regulus. The Order was in high spirits from the raid, but there was nothing that could console Sirius.

James and Remus tried to help him through the grief, but all three of them were fighting for the Light back then. They had to put forth the face of unity against the Dark wizards who were ‘taking over wizarding Britain’ at the time. (They had to ‘prove’ themselves to Dumbledore.)

That moment was the beginning of the end of Sirius’ love of the Light. If they would take his baby brother from him, then what else would they take?

It would only be a year or so for him to find out what other horrible things the Light was capable of. As he and Remus ran through the Forbidden Forest, a plot was put into action for James and Lily to be murdered in their home. A home that everyone thought that Dumbledore had protected himself with a fidelus charm.

They were all on edge from a supposed prophecy the mouth of a drunk divination teacher had spouted in the middle of a crowded pub. The prophecy might have had something to do with Harry being a child chosen to bring about the downfall of a Dark Lord.

It might not have.

Prophecies are funny that way. They are interpretable. They are not, as most would believe, set in stone. But Dumbledore was convinced that Harry was this chosen child. He was convinced that the Potters needed to be protected. And he would hear nothing from anyone who disagreed with his point of view. Also, since he was Albus way too many names and accolades Dumbledore, head of every important group in the wizarding world, people fell in line.

Sirius would regret to his dying day that he also fell in line. That he followed along blindly, even after losing his brother.

He ended up regretting it even more when he discovered that he was set up as the fall guy for the whole scheme. That anyone would believe he could betray and kill one of his friends, who he thought of as his brother, was ludicrous. At least Moony believed him. (He had to - they were together that night.)

After the events of that evening, as well as the loss of his pup, Sirius admittedly went a little crazy. Thankfully Fenrir and his pack took Moony and him in. They helped Sirius calm down and come to terms with all of his losses. (Well, as calm as Sirius would ever get.)

Then Severus came to tell both him and Moony about Harry’s second disappearance. The fact that Dumbledore had put him in that damn Merlin-cursed home hurt deep inside Sirius' very soul. He knew what Petunia was like. And Vernon, well, Sirius would have gladly let either Padfoot or Moony rip that loathsome man’s throat out. It wounded him that Harry had even been exposed for even one minute to those horrible excuses for muggles. To hear the description of his living conditions from Severus brought tears to Sirius’ eyes. His heart broke completely, right then and there.

But his pup had disappeared from that loathsome place without a trace. He had vanished. He was still considered to be alive since the Hat had called his name during the sorting ceremony for his year.

He had to be alive since the goblins had not declared him dead, thus declaring the Potter line abolished.

However if he was alive, he was in the wind. According to Severus, not even the all-knowing Albus-fucking-Dumbledore knew his location. And that, right there, gave Sirius some hope. He hoped that wherever his pup was, whatever he was doing, he was safe. And happy. Sirius hoped with his whole being that Harry was happy.

He smiled down at his wand again, concocting new spells for when they were finally able to get some revenge on Dumbledore. He was so focused on his plans that he almost didn’t notice when Lucius’ small elf Mipsy handed him a letter. Looking up, he checked to see if any others had received one.

The Dark Lord held a letter in his hand and looked contemplative.

Snivellus held one as well, looking at it in shock.

Moony, across from him, looked white as a sheet holding his letter. Sirius noticed Fenrir attempting to comfort his pack mate.

Curious, Sirius opened his own.

--------------------
Attn: Sirius Orion Black
Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
Animagus (Illegal)
A.K.A Padfoot
Death Eater Meeting
Malfoy Manor
Wiltshire, England

Sir,

Gringotts requests your presence at the reading of a will, 1pm on the afternoon of tomorrow, the 5^th of August, 1996.

Measures will be made to ensure the privacy of all parties involved. Additional guests will be removed without regard to their personal safety.

Punctuality is expected. Tardiness will be viewed as insult, as death is the only acceptable excuse. The doors for the reading will close promptly at 1pm.

May your enemies die at your feet and your gold ever flow,

Ragnok
Warlord
Director, British Isles Gringotts
‘Warriors Fight the Worthy - There is No Honor in Fighting the Pathetically Weak’
--------------------

Merlin’s saggy bollocks!

Sirius stared speechless at the letter in his hand.

First of all, he groaned internally, these goblins knew way too much about him if they knew about his animagus status. Also, he had a sinking feeling that tomorrow was going to bring about some serious revelations. (‘No, I’m Sirius’ - snicker.) He knew that James’ will was never read because he knew that he was in it. He was Harry’s godfather, for Merlin’s sake. He should have been notified as soon as they died so that he could make good on his promise to his best friend. He should have been there to raise Harry.

Instead, he was hiding, in secret, inside the wizarding world. And all thanks to the evil machinations of one Albus-fucking-Dumbledore. Although, according to Moony, it was the worst kept secret within most circles. Everyone knew that he was still around somewhere, it was just that the aurors just couldn’t find him.

It was hard, after all, to arrest a dog. And Sirius… well he was a dog in every sense of the word.

Looking back down at the notification from Gringotts, Sirius smiled. Maybe this was happening now because they were finally able to have everyone who was involved in the will present for the reading. Maybe they had found Harry! Maybe this would help him, at last, get his pup and bring him home!

Chapter Text

The news media across the country and even across the pond reported on the massacre, however the biased opinion was that the murdered men deserved it.

- Morning of August 5^th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- London Safehouse -

After Harry had disengaged all of the traps leading into their safehouse, he and Wade fell giggling into the living room. Wade was still gushing about the fact that Harry had outdone himself again, with all of his perfectly aimed shots. Harry was ecstatic about the fact that they were able to get some of his pent-up aggression out on some shit-stains in the city.

Neither noticed the other occupants in the room sitting on the couch.

“I take it the ‘field trip’ went well.”

Logan’s dry comment stopped them in their tracks, interrupting their celebrations.

Harry’s head jolted over to where he sat… next to Frank! (Who looked like his rushed end to the mission had caused a bit of frustration if the tenseness in his shoulders meant anything.)

Both of the men had beers in their hands. (It was, like, 8 am.) And Frank’s glower had reached epic proportions.

Shrinking back a little from his obviously disgruntled dad, Harry gave a small wave. “Hey, Frank, thanks for comin’ back for me,” he said softly.

He knew he had better tread through this conversation delicately, in deference to the fact that the man on the couch probably hadn’t slept in a few days and had to rush back for his kid’s ‘emergency’. All this just because Harry couldn’t stay out of trouble.

“I tried to stay out of trouble and see the sights, like you told me. But I just stumbled on this weird magical world. Through a fuckin’ hole in a wall, Frank! A freakin’ magical hole!!! It was super fuckin’ trippy, Frank. You’ll see. And, I, well I just didn’t know what to do. You said to find something to do. I just thought that if I went through the hole in the wall and explored a little, I might find something cool. It was creepy, and exciting, and crazy. People there dress like wizards and witches! There’s magic there, Frank. Even Logan felt it. I minded my own business, made sure to stay undetected. (Mostly.) But this weird chick saw through my magic, Frank… she could see right through it! Then she spouted some bizarre crap about a bank that we ended up finding and some shit about my old family. It freaked me right the fuck out. I got ahold of Wade and Logan - see, I was being responsible - and they came to help. I didn’t want to bother you. But it just got to be too much, Frank. I didn’t know what to do after we heard all that shit at the bank. And they said I had to have a guardian there. You’re the only guardian I have. You’re my dad. I just had to send the code. I know I should have been smarter. I should have done better. I shouldn’t have gone in there half-cocked. I should have made sure that I did proper recon and waited for backup. But, it happened. And now we have to be back there today. I want to be back there today. I want to learn about what we could never find, even with all of our background checks and ‘interrogations’ and investigations. I need this, Frank… I just... yeah, I’m sorry.”

Harry finally let his rant quietly fade out so that he could catch his breath. He watched as Frank sat there, impassively, eyes boring into Harry’s. He waited with bated breath for him to say or do anything.

“You done?” Frank asked in a clipped tone.

Harry dipped his head down in respect. “Yes, sir.”

Frank placed his beer down on the coffee table and stood up. He walked slowly over to where Harry stood and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Look at me, kid.”

Harry lifted his head to look at him, a kernel of hope blooming in his chest.

“Ain’t sayin’ I’m happy at all that you pulled this shit. In fact, when all of this is said and done, you’re fuckin’ grounded until you go back to train with Dr. Strange. And that means no hangin' out with Wade, at all,” he said.

Harry’s heart dropped while Wade pouted behind him.

“But first and foremost,” Frank continued brusquely, “you're my fuckin' kid. I'm always gonna come for you. I’m glad you were smart enough to call me back in. This is important to you, so we’ll figure it out.”

He sighed and ruffled Harry’s hair with gruff affection before sitting down. “For now, though, you need to take a kip. We’ll leave here around twelve hundred hours so we can get there in plenty of time. Do I need to remind you to clean your weapons and have ‘em ready to go?”

Breathing in a deep sigh of relief, Harry gave him a small smile and a quick negative motion of his head. “No, sir. I'm on it. Um, are Wade and Logan gonna come with?”

Logan leaned forward in his seat on the couch and shook his head. “Nope, we’re gonna head back. Professor called and said we were needed as soon as this situation was taken care of. Besides, bub, you sure as hell don’t need Wade’s kind of crazy in this situation.”

Wade scowled through his mask.

Grinning at the three men in the living room, Harry said goodbye and ‘goodnight’ to everyone and retired to his room. In just a few hours he was going to have some answers!

- Afternoon of August 5, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Office of Ragnok, Gringotts -

They arrived at the bank fifteen minutes prior to the 1pm reading of the will. Frank had dealt with the magical hole in the Leaky Cauldron wall and the bustling alley way better than Harry had the first time he saw it. Harry supposed that Frank’s reaction came with the many years of experience that he had over Harry in dealing with the bizarre. Maybe he had seen some weird shit in his travels before he ‘adopted’ him.

Shrugging internally, Harry figured he was just glad that Frank seemed unfazed and ready to deal with whatever came their way. It was damn good to have an awesome dad at your back.

They greeted the goblins. (Frank had figured that out from the way they looked.) It was even done with what passed as a cordial greeting from Frank. (Read: he didn’t try to kill them outright.)

They were ushered into a room where Ragnok introduced himself to Frank and verified that he was, in fact, Harry Potter’s guardian. Harry thought at one point that the goblin was trying to intimidate Frank into telling him otherwise. Maybe Ragnok thought that through ‘subtle’ persuasion he could weasel out some incriminating information.

Ha! Silly goblin. He had obviously never dealt with The Punisher. (Or The Scourge, for that matter.) Harry doubted if these guys had heard of the amount of times Frank had to deal with interrogation ‘under duress’. They were going to get a big fat nothin’ from the imposing ex-Marine.

Which was exactly what Frank gave them… nothin’.

He stood there next to Harry, calm and stoic, hands clasped loosely behind his back in a picture of relaxed parade rest. (He was not relaxed. Anyone who knew Frank at all would be able to see that he was not relaxed. He could go from this position to killing a person in less than two seconds flat.)

Harry mirrored his stance. Both of their black leather coats pulled open slightly to show their black t-shirts with white painted logos. Their black boots and worn tac pants gave them an intimidating air of solidarity. It helped that they were also armed to the teeth, with at least four firearms visible. That wasn't counting the ones strapped to their ankles. Nor did it account for the six knives that Harry had on his person. (Frank only carried three. Harry always had liked knives a little too much.)

“Hnn,” Ragnok grated out after he was unable to get anything out of Frank. “You will both follow me into the will reading room. There is a magical ward in the room preventing any harm or violence to befall those inside.” (Harry wondered if that only pertained to ‘magical violence’ or if his guns and knives would still work.)

“The ward will also prevent anything said or seen inside the room from being spoken of outside of those present, without the agreement of all parties.” He paused and glared at both Frank and Harry. “Gringotts takes the security of its patrons very seriously. Any attempt to usurp these precautions will be met with swift consequences.”

Apparently feeling that he had done his due diligence and threatened them severely enough, he nodded once and opened the door. “Follow me.”

The room was similar to the one where he and Logan had first met Ragnok. There were six chairs in a semi-circle around a large desk. (Presumably this was where Ragnok would sit.) The room had a distinct feeling of heaviness. (It might have been Harry feeling the magical wards. It might have been Harry feeling the nerves from the situation. He wasn’t sure.)

The main difference from the other room, however, was that four other men were inside. They stood in the center of the room, having a quiet conversation. Frank paused as he noticed the others which, in turn, caused Harry to fall into line behind him. They instinctually formed a battle stance, waiting for shit to go sideways.

It didn’t.

The only thing that happened was that the four men turned - almost as one - to see the two new people who joined them along with Ragnok.

Harry looked at the four men while they studied him and Frank. They were in the same type of robes that most of the people in the alley were wearing. All black. The only difference was that each one had a slightly different stitching around the hem.

One man had, if Harry was waxing poetic, kind eyes and slightly tousled brown hair. Harry noticed him take a subtle sniff of the air and widen his eyes. Another man had dark black long hair that appeared almost greasy. His face was completely blank of emotion. The first thing that Harry noticed, when he looked at him, was his very prominent nose.

The third man looked like Sid Vicious had in that one movie - if the character had cleaner hair, wasn't strung out, and was a little more patrician. The man had long curly dark hair, Tony Stark-esque facial hair, and a mischievous air about him. This guy looked like he knew how to have a good time. He was probably the least serious of the bunch. (Probably not as wild as the bassist for the Sex Pistols, though.)

The last man Harry noticed was the same man from Knockturn Alley that he had seen the day before. His red eyes again tried to bore into Harry. He felt the telltale pressure in his forehead and bristled.

Quickly shielding his mind, he shot the man a glare. A second later, he remembered to shield Frank’s mind as well. It wouldn’t do for either of their secrets to get out when they were in a strange magical area surrounded by unknowns.

Frank glanced at him, lifting one brow in silent question after feeling Harry’s magic wash over him.

Harry ignored the questioning look and growled low in his throat. He scowled at red-eyes.

“Stay out of my fuckin’ head, asshole. You wanna keep those pretty red eyes? If you keep it up, you won’t. I'll take 'em from you, and you won't even get the chance to do anything about it. You wanna know what happens to an eyeball when it gets punctured? Do you got any idea how much blood jets out of a guy's neck when his throat's been slit? Seriously, stay the fuck out of my mind and maybe you won’t have to find out…or,” Harry gave a red-eyes a slight smirk and pointed a thumb toward where Frank was standing, “... maybe I’ll just let my dad deal with your dumb ass.”

Beside him, Frank’s demeanor went deadly calm. He slowly turned to face red-eyes and pulled open one side of his coat.

“You fuckin’ with my kid?” He hissed quietly into the room.

Everything went eerily quiet as Harry smugly thought about how wonderful it was to have a dad like Frank to fight his battles with him. (And sometimes for him.)

Red-eyes dipped his head slightly to the side and said smoothly, “I do apologize, good sir. To skim one's thoughts is instinctual by this point in my life. I have rarely found one as… adept as your son at feeling my magic.” He turned then to face Harry once more, “I apologize, young man. I will not attempt to intrude again.”

Harry huffed in annoyance and crossed his arms across his chest. His hair flopped to the side as he shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t fuckin’ like it and you’re damn right you won’t do it again.”

Sid (as Harry was calling him in his head right then) shook his head incredulously and barked out a short laugh. “Merlin’s dirty pants, kid, I’ve never seen anyone speak to the Dark Lord like that. We might just have to keep you around after this.”

Kind-eyes elbowed Sid in the side to shut him up. He rolled his eyes toward Frank and Harry in apology for his friend's(?) antics. "Ignore him," he groaned in obvious annoyance.

Frank still hadn’t stood down from the confrontation, but he seemed to calm a little at the apology.

“Gentlemen,” Ragnok interjected, clearing his throat loudly in the tense silence. (Harry had actually forgotten he was there.) “If you will take your seats, we can get the introductions and will reading under way.”

Nodding his approval, Frank motioned Harry to sit and then stood guard behind him. Harry’s heart warmed with the knowledge that he would not be left in a vulnerable position. Leave it to Frank to (literally) have Harry’s back. Frank always protected him.

The other men sat and glanced between themselves and at Harry and Frank while they all waited for Ragnok to begin.

“You have all been summoned here for the reading of the will of one James Fleamont Potter,” (Harry snickered behind his hand – Fleamont?? Frank lightly flicked him on the ear to remind him to pay attention) “and one Lily Jean Potter née Evans. In accordance with those mentioned in the will, Gringotts has gathered all parties involved. These are, in no particular order…”

Ragnok looked at red-eyes and said, “The Dark Lord Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle, T. Marv…”

He was interrupted by Tom, who waved his hand regally. (Harry wasn’t calling him Dark Lord so-and-so, internally rolling his eyes at the stupid name.) “Thank you, Ragnok, I believe that most here know all of my titles.”

Harry looked over at him and visibly rolled his eyes this time. Oh boy, this guy had more arrogance than Stark. Wait! Tom?? The Tom? Was this the guy that the cracked-out chick was talking about? If so, this whole thing just got more interesting.

Ragnok nodded and continued, gesturing next to kind-eyes. “Mr. Remus John Lupin.” He continued to the right of Lupin and gestured to big-nose. “Professor Severus Tobias Snape.” The last man gave Harry a roguish grin as he was introduced. “Lord Sirius Orion Black.”

The goblin turned to face Harry and gestured first to Frank, who was standing behind him. “Mr. Francis ‘Frank’ Castle.”

Frank grunted in annoyance under his breath at the use of the name ‘Francis’. Harry hid a smile so his dad wouldn’t thwack him upside the head.

Ragnok then looked at Harry and said, “And, finally, Mr. Harry James Potter.”

Harry heard a loud gasp from someone in the room followed by exclamations of: “Merlin!”, "Cub!", and "Pup!" He found himself quickly surrounded by three men.

He rose fluidly from the chair and kicked it to the side while Frank, without hesitating, drew his two Kimbers from his sides, cocked them, and pointed them at the foreheads of the two men on the outside of the approaching triangle.

Just as quickly, Harry drew his knife and brought it to just under the ribs in the side of the man in the middle who was attempting to grab (hug?) him, while also drawing and cocking his gun, sliding it under the same man’s chin.

Red-eyes (Tom, Harry, remember?) hadn’t moved from his chair and was watching the scene with unbridled curiosity.

Frank, in true form, hadn't said a word or made a noise.

“Fuckin’ move toward me again, man, and all of you will have new holes in your heads. Frank won’t hesitate, and he taught me real good,” Harry snarled.

The three men looked surprised at the turn of events. The one in the middle (Sirius - not Sid) swallowed reflexively. Not moving, but glancing warily between the weapons, Harry, Frank, and then back to the weapons, the men stood there, frozen.

The five of them held their positions like that for what seemed like forever until Ragnok interjected yet again. “Gentlemen. Might I remind you about Gringotts' no tolerance rule on violence during a will reading? Please maintain a modicum of decorum and return to your seats.”

Tom snorted lightly from where he still sat. “Well, you are a violent little thing, aren’t you?”

Harry scowled and narrowed his eyes at him. “Seriously?”

The man who had been attempting to grab/hug him forced a laugh and sent Harry a crooked grin. “No, I’m Sirius.”

This caused kind-eyes (Remus, Harry, Remus) to step back from the weapon that Frank held on him and bring his hand up to drag it down his face.

“Merlin. Shut up, Sirius,” he mumbled through his fingers. He dropped his hand and looked at Harry, sending him a shaky smile. “I thought I smelled my cub when you walked in. I’m sorry that we rushed over here and surprised you, but, you see, we have been searching for you for years.”

Harry blinked rapidly at that information and felt Frank’s boot lightly tap against his with their signal that it was fine for them to lower their weapons. He lowered them, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to put them away.

The last man, Severus, merely stared at Harry in shock with widened eyes, like Harry held the answers to all of life's questions. The close examination kind of made Harry’s skin crawl.

“You see something you like, old man?” Harry leered at him.

Frank cuffed him upside the head with the butt of his gun. “Shut up and behave, kid,” he growled out.

“Hey! Don’t hit my pup!” Sirius shouted, holding a stick and advancing on Frank.

Harry groaned. This was turning into a clusterfuck.

Chapter Text

Harry groaned. This was turning into a clusterfuck.

- August 5^th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Gringotts -

Frank had pulled him back when he planted his body in front of Sirius, stopping Harry’s attempt to block any attack on Frank. He hated when anyone said or did anything bad to Frank. He’d fight the whole goddamn world for Frank. Just try him.

But he didn’t need to fight the whole world this time, as Frank was quick to remind him. He was pulled to the side of the room where his dad brought their foreheads close together while the other five in the room stayed on the other side.

“Look, kid, apparently these guys are some sort of family to you. They’re only flippin’ their shit because they haven’t seen you in years. You need to calm your shit down and listen to this Ragnok guy so that you can get some real answers. You want that, right? You want answers about all of this? That’s why we came here, right?” Frank asked in a low tone, making sure he wasn’t overheard by the others.

Harry nodded petulantly and let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, but…”

“No buts. Sit there. Shut up. Listen,” Frank ordered, almost kindly. “You can’t learn anything if you’re gonna keep goin’ off on these guys. I’ve got your six. There’s no way I’m letting anything happen to my kid… ever. No matter who these guys say they are, you’re fuckin’ mine. I’m not gonna let you get hurt; I’m always gonna protect you. Got that?”

Shrugging sullenly, Harry dipped his head before answering Frank. “This whole thing is just weirding me out, Frank. Did you see how they looked at me? Like I was something that they wanted to steal away from you and keep? These guys were looking for me for years, they said. And, I mean, if that’s really true, then why didn’t they come get me earlier? Why didn’t they save me when I was gettin’ starved or gettin’ the shit beat out of me on the regular? Why didn’t they care back then? And they look at me like I’m supposed to give a shit now?” He sucked in a deep breath and shook his head. “It’s just freakin’ me out a little.”

Frank gave his shoulder a light squeeze and answered him with a small amused glint in his eye breaking through the façade of his stoic face. “Don't know those answers. But we might learn some of ‘em if you’d sit the fuck back down and let this Ragnok guy talk. Remember, kid, it’s ok to lose to opponent. It’s never ok to lose to fear.”

Giggling with relief, Harry kicked Frank lightly in the shin. “Ok, ok, Mr. Miyagi. I guess I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

They walked back over to the chairs, and Harry sat in the one that was left standing. He left the kicked over chair as a separator between himself and the other men in the room. Frank took up his position behind Harry again, placing one hand on his shoulder.

Sirius and Remus kept peeking over at Harry, and he could tell that they wanted him to acknowledge them somehow. Snape kept his face devoid of emotion, but his fathomless dark eyes kept stealing glances Harry’s way.

Tom, seemingly as arrogant as Harry had clocked him, just sat there regally, waiting for the reading to continue.

Ragnok looked out at them and huffed in annoyance. “Interpersonal conversations are to occur after the reading of the wills. Gringotts does not care about the relationships or sentiments of humans and expects them to keep all emotional outbursts to a minimum." He glared at each of them in turn, "May I continue now?”

Harry grunted a yes while the other four men nodded. Frank did and said nothing, remaining a silent presence at Harry’s back. (Harry would have been shocked if Frank had said or done anything. That just wasn't Frank's style.)

“Well then, now that we have all formally met, let us proceed with the reading of the will. This situation is a little abnormal as the original wills were sealed by Wizengamot. However, it was discovered that the Potters made later wills that were not sealed, and these are the ones we will read now, as they render any other will obsolete.” He looked out at the gentlemen in the room (including Harry and Frank – because no one would consider them gentlemen) to see if they had grasped what he had just said.

Three heads nodded, one dipped slightly, and Harry and Frank just grunted lightly in unison. (Like father, like son!)

“Good, first let us start with the reading of the will of James Fleamont Potter, Lord of the House of Potter:

I, James Fleamont Potter, being of sound mind, not acting under any duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my properties, both monetary and physical, do hereby make and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament. I hereby revoke any and all other wills heretofore made by me.

I nominate and appoint Lord Sirius Orion Black, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, as Personal Representative of my estate. If Lord Sirius Orion Black fails or ceases to so serve, then I nominate Severus Tobias Snape to serve. (I would like to interject that Lily Jean Potter née Evans suggested the second choice ‘strongly’, yet I was not legally considered ‘under duress’.)

I devise and bequeath my property, both real and personal and wherever situated, as follows:

To my wife, Lily Jean Potter née Evans, I bequeath the entirety of my estate with the exceptions listed below.

1. To Lord Sirius Orion Black, I bequeath the original Book of Marauder’s Pranks as well as any other spells and jinxes that have been developed after the creation of this will.
2. To Remus John Lupin, I bequeath the Marauder’s Map. (Not sure how I became the holder of all of this stuff, guys, but you are the ones who deserve it.)
3. To Severus Tobias Snape… I bet you thought I would forget you, Snivellus. I bequeath you a copy of the Book of Marauder’s Pranks. You deserve it after all we’ve put you through. Besides, you’ll need it to defend yourself from Padfoot and Moony now that I’m gone.
4. Finally, to my son, Harry James Potter, I bequeath a trust vault (in addition to his school vault) so that he might enjoy his life before he has to take on the mantle of Lord of the House of Potter. I also bequeath my invisibility cloak that has been in our family for generations. (Ask your mum or Uncle Padfoot, they’ll tell you all about it.)

Finally, son, I bequeath you the following explanation for reasons behind my death, if this will is being read when I think it is:

Your mother and I love you, son. We knew that getting involved with Albus Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix was a gamble, especially when we noticed that some of the things he was doing were not as benevolent or good as he was pretending. He was trying to turn us against Uncle Moony, trying to prove that Uncle Padfoot was evil. He went to any length to keep his seats in the Ministry and push through his ridiculous and prejudiced ideals in the Wizengamot.

We were losing the battle. But, looking back, we didn’t even know what battle we were fighting, son. When the prophecy came out about a boy who was born on the same night as you, Dumbledore forced us, through guilt and manipulation, to hide away behind our wards. He even placed a fidelus charm on the house and made it so that only he could bring people into our home. We were prisoners with too much time to think.

And while we were thinking, we reached out to the Dark Lord with our concerns and questions. He explained his stance on certain things in the wizarding world. How the war was not even really a war, according to him. He seemed like a much better choice to follow during the ‘war’ than Dumbledore.

But, son, as I sit in my office and write this, I fear that Dumbledore has learned of my communication with the Dark Lord. I am not sure as to the extent of Dumbledore’s contacts and spies. We have been careful, but apparently not enough. I feel that something is going to happen, sooner rather than later.

So, this is what I bequeath to you, my son… the truth. We are not Light, we are not Dark. We are Gray. And that fact is not good enough for Dumbledore and his Light forces. There have been many wrongs done in the name of the Light… too many to list here. I fear that if something has happened, it was at his hand, or the hands of the 'Light'.

I will leave you with this advice: trust yourself first. Listen to what your heart is telling you. Moony, Padfoot, Severus, and even the Dark Lord will look out for you better than Dumbledore ever would. Don’t trust him, son. Just stay away.

With love,

Your father, James F. Potter

In the case of the untimely death of both myself and my wife, Lily Jean Potter née Evans, the following individuals are tasked to take guardianship, both physical and magical, of one Harry James Potter, until his majority when he is able to inherit in totality and take on his role as Lord of the House of Potter, as they have already agreed to do so.

1. Lord Sirius Orion Black, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
2. Severus Tobias Snape, Professor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
3. Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord Voldemort, Heir of Slytherin

Moony – I would have listed you first, but there’s no way that anyone would let you have Harry with their stupid werewolf prejudice, even though you are pretty much the most responsible out of all of us. (Sorry Pads, you’re amazing, but Lily’s right about you being a little crazy.)

Take care of my son together. Keep him from harm and guard him from anything that may happen regarding the prophecy. Keep him away from Albus Dumbledore. And for the love of Merlin’s soggy breeches, (Lily is yelling at me for writing that) keep my son away from Lily’s relatives. Petunia is a cow and hates everything about our family. Vernon is a waste of oxygen. There is no telling how badly they would treat Harry.

I’ll be waiting to see you all again and planning the ultimate pranks for when we reunite.

~Prongs

Silence.

Not one person said a word as Ragnok finished reading James Potter’s will. Harry felt his heart catch in his throat and his hands gripped his knife and gun until his knuckles were white. Sweat started to bead on his brow. His vision had tunneled, and his breaths had started to quicken to the point he couldn’t even get enough oxygen. His head felt light and fuzzy and he started to sway in his chair.

He didn’t know what was happening to him. This had never happened before, even on fucked up ops where he was separated from Frank. He had even been interrogated ‘under duress’ a couple times, but he had kept his shit together then.

What the fuck was happening to him now??

As he stared straight ahead in shock, he barely noticed Frank’s face come into view. Large hands came up to hold either side of his head in a comforting grip.

“Grab my hand, kid. I’m here. You’re fine. It’s a panic attack. You’ve never had one before, but you’ll be fine. It’ll pass. Give me your other hand too,” he said as he pried Harry’s fingers loose from his weapons.

He held one hand and took the other and placed it over his Punisher logo. “Breathe with me. In and out. Wax on, wax off, kid. Come on. You’re ok. You’re good. I've got you. I'm not goin' anywhere. That’s it, you're good.”

Harry listened to Frank’s gruff voice as he gave instructions and felt his body slowly calm down. Embarrassment flooded his cheeks as he looked to the others in the room to see how they were faring.

It seemed that Sirius, Remus and Severus were sitting there in almost as much disbelief as he was. Tom, although still imperially sitting there after the disclosure of the contents of the will, also seemed to have his mouth slightly opened in surprise.

So, it wasn’t just Harry feeling the bombshell. No one had known the extent of what was in James Potter’s will or what was happening behind the Potter’s doors.

Harry eventually settled down, with Frank’s help, and was finally able to get a regular breathing pattern. Frank squeezed both of Harry’s shoulders in a comforting gesture. He traced his finger down Harry’s forehead scar and ruffled his hair before standing up and walking back to his self-appointed post behind Harry’s chair.

To his left, Sirius let out a harsh, watery breath. “Merlin…Prongs… he knew what was going to happen.” He looked to his left at Remus, “He knew, Moony, and he didn’t even let on.” Quickly shifting his attention to Tom, he pointed an accusing finger. “You were in the will as a potential guardian! You had been talking to them! Did you know?? Did you know that Prongs and Lily-flower were in that much danger from the old bastard?”

Tom looked at him an dipped his head slightly. “I was aware that things were taking a turn for the worse and measures were going to have to be taken soon to give them aid, but I was not aware the extent of what Lord Potter already knew. We had only just started our negotiations regarding where they would go if they came over to join me. I had already agreed to help the boy,” Tom explained. (Harry still shuddered at anyone using that word for him.)

Tom looked at the other men in the room, including Harry in his gaze, “I apologize for not moving faster to get them out of that situation.”

Remus growled low in his throat. “No, we will not blame you. You were not the one to fire the spells. You were not the one who stole Harry from us. We will put the blame where blame is deserved… on Dumbledore.” He bared his teeth. They were quickly growing into fangs as he snarled out his fury. (Fangs!!!)

Before Harry had a chance to ask any of the men what they knew about the night of his parents’ deaths (apparently not in a fuckin’ car crash), Ragnok interrupted again.

“Again, I will remind you that this emotional discussion needs to wait until all matters of business have been taken care of.” He shuffled the paperwork on his desk and brought up the next piece of parchment. “The next item to discuss is the will of Lily Jean Potter née Evans. If you will remain quiet, I will begin the reading,”

I, Lily Jean Potter née Evans, being of sound mind, not acting under any duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my properties, both monetary and physical, do hereby make and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament. I hereby revoke any and all other wills heretofore made by me.

I nominate and appoint Severus Tobias Snape, Professor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as Personal Representative of my estate. If Severus Tobias Snape fails or ceases to so serve, then I nominate Lord Sirius Orion Black to serve.

I devise and bequeath my property, both real and personal and wherever situated, as follows:

To my husband, James Fleamont Potter, Lord of the House of Potter, I bequeath the entirety of my estate with the exceptions listed below:

1. To Severus Tobias Snape, I bequeath all potions books and ingredients that he desires to take from my extensive collection. Sev, you have been and always will be my best friend. Thank you. I know this is not enough to ever repay you for your loyalty and friendship, but it is what I have.
2. To Remus John Lupin, I bequeath all my books on charms. You’re the one who really made the Marauder’s Map happen, Moony. (Although it has caused many irritations in my life, it is a beautiful piece of charm work and you deserve to have more of that beautiful work gracing our world.)
3. To Lord Sirius Orion Black, I bequeath a copy of the muggle book: The Joke Book.⁽¹⁾ You have always been the silliest of us all. Use it to make people laugh.
4. Finally, to my son, Harry James Potter, I bequeath the Evans trust vault, minus anything that has been previously bequeathed from within.

In the case of the untimely death of both myself and my husband, James Fleamont Potter, Lord of the House of Potter, the following individuals are tasked to take guardianship, both physical and magical, of one Harry James Potter, until his majority when he is able to inherit in totality and take on his role as Lord of the House of Potter, as they have already agreed to do so.

1. Lord Sirius Orion Black, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
2. Severus Tobias Snape, Professor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
3. Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord Voldemort, Heir of Slytherin

Sev, James and I went round and round as to who would be first pick for guardianship, but, ultimately, you have too many ties to Dumbledore at the moment. I want to keep Harry as far away from that horrible man as I can. We still (yes, we - James included) very much want you involved in the raising of Harry. Work together with Sirius, and Remus – who will no doubt be very involved as well. Raise my boy well. Don’t let him go to my family or to Dumbledore. They do not have his best interests at heart. They will hurt and manipulate him. I am trusting you all to keep him safe and happy. To love him and protect him.

Finally,

Harry, my sweet baby boy,

If both of us are gone, then you have probably already heard your father’s explanation of what probably happened. Just know that we love you and always will. We are so very sorry that you were in the middle of this horrible situation.

Make sure to surround yourself with people who have your best interests at heart. Stay away from people like Albus Dumbledore, who only look out for themselves and will do anything to get their way.

Always, always remember that you are loved and cherished.

Love you,

Mum

Before anyone could react to the will of his mother, Ragnok quickly pressed forward. “Right, well now that we have had the wills read, the matter of the vaults comes into question. Apparently there have been some… discrepancies.”

Chapter Text

Apparently there have been some… discrepancies.

- August 5^th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Gringotts -

“According to the current Wizengamot charter, all seats for a house that is not currently controlled by a Lord who has reached majority must be considered as vassal or cadet. These are given, in proxy, to a representative who will vote at Wizengamot in accordance with the house’s magical inclination. The Potter House had historically voted Light, however, according to the most current legal documents filed by Lord James Fleamont Potter on the 20^th of October in the year of 1981, including these wills, the house’s allegiance should have been moved to the Gray or Dark vote… depending on the matter brought before Wizengamot.”

Ragnok paused and tapped a clawed fingernail on his desk, “Although Gringotts as a whole does not admit to any wrongdoing in this situation, we do accept that there were… certain employees who disregarded the requests and wishes of their clients.”

He flashed a vicious sneer out into the room. “As the director of this branch of Gringotts, let me assure you that those individuals are no longer gainfully employed with the bank.” (Harry got the feeling that those employees were no longer gainfully employed with the living. Not that he wouldn’t have done the same thing in that situation.)

Looking back down at the parchments in front of him, Ragnok continued, “According to these records, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot was the one to seal the original wills of the Potters. He declared himself as the ‘magical guardian’ of one Harry James Potter and took him into custody with the approval of the heretofore mentioned employees. Although it is not recorded if this guardianship included physical guardianship, I can only assume, from these proceedings, that it did not.”

Harry protested under his breath, “No, it fuckin’ didn’t.”

Ragnok shot him a baleful glare, presumably for the interruption, and persisted. “These votes have been used by one Albus Dumbledore illegally, however the statute of limitations on declaring a misvote has passed on most of them. I would suggest that a legal proxy be declared posthaste so that the Potter House vote may be realigned with the previous Lord’s wishes. That is, until the heir reaches his majority and is able to take his rightful place within Wizengamot.”

Tom and the other men nodded in understanding as Ragnok spouted his legal drivel. Harry, more confused than ever, spared Frank a questioning glance. Frank leaned down and whispered in his ear, “They’re dealin’ with the wizarding version of the Senate and Congress. You know how that shit works. This is pretty much the same thing, so just think of it that way and it will help you wrap your head around it.” Harry hummed in comprehension then turned to give Ragnok his whole attention again.

“Now, to the manner of the trust vaults. I do believe this is what may cause the most… issue regarding Mr. Harry James Potter. As Albus Dumbledore was declared his magical and, potentially, physical guardian, albeit illegally, he was granted access to the trusts given to the minor child.”

Harry felt Frank shift slightly and grumble behind him when the subject of money came up. “Fuckin’ thief, I bet,” he predicted lowly.

Now, Harry and Frank had never wanted for anything. Frank always made sure of that. They always had enough disposable income for new weapons, gear, safehouses… basically whatever they wanted. Yes, Frank always made sure they were taken care of.

Harry didn’t really care about how little or much money his birth parents left him. He had a good life with his dad. But he did care about thieves and criminals. He cared even more that this situation was so messed up, and that he had obviously been fucked over by this Dumblefuck guy.

The other men in the room tensed visibly when the mention of possible misuse of trust funds was presented. Evidently, no one likes a thief, Harry thought spitefully.

“Yes, well. Although there might be one or two calculations in the sickles and knuts that have been lost over the passage of the past 14 years and 8 months, we believe that the galleon balance is 100% correct as of today.” Ragnok shook his head minutely. Apparently that was as much frustration as he would allow himself to show regarding the issue of misuse of funds at this time. (Although, Harry considered, since those employees who caused the issue in the first place were probably dead by now, that might mean this Ragnok guy really did hide a seriously bloodthirsty side. If he ever stopped being a strict, stuffed shirt, legal-speaking goblin, they might just get along.)

“The following vaults were to be given, in trust, to one Harry James Potter, upon the death of his parents, Lord James Fleamont Potter and Lily Jean Potter née Evans:

1. School Vault for Attendance to: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
   To Be Used Only for School Tuition and Supplies
   Initial Balance: 50,000g
   Current Balance: 50,000g
2. Potter Trust Vault
   Monthly Withdrawal Limit: 4,000g
   Initial Balance: 750,000g
   Current Balance: 51,073g 157s 84k
3. Evans Trust Vault
   Monthly Withdrawal Limit: 200g
   Initial Balance: 50,000g
   Current Balance: 15,481g 95s 8k

Upon reaching his majority at age seventeen, Harry James Potter is to inherit the Lordship and the totality of the Potter Estate, both physical and monetary, currently valued at 24,067,175g 143s 21k.”

Tom sucked in a small breath and shook his head in disbelief. “Disregarding the obviously monstrous amount that Dumbledore took from your accounts, Mr. Potter, you are set up to be very well off in a year when you reach majority.”

Sirius let out a low whistle in agreement then said playfully, “Yes, and it’s a good thing that they included the 21 knuts in the total value of your inheritance. That makes all the difference in your fortune.”

Harry gaped at him. “Was that a joke?? Are you seriously making a joke right now?”

“Well…,” he grinned at Harry mischievously, “I am Siri…”

Harry tightly gripped his knife and bared his teeth at the man. “Finish it… fuckin’ finish that sentence, asshole, and I’ll show you how serious I can be.”

Frank lightly nudged his shoulder to keep him calm, but he was too angry to stop his rant right then.

“I have no idea what a galleon, knut, sickle or anything else that Ragnok just said means. I literally just found out that my birth parents were apparently murdered. They didn't die in a 'car accident', like I was always told. And they left me a fuck-ton of money, I’m assuming, for someone to raise me with. So I could be ‘happy’. Money which I never saw. Ever. I lived in a fuckin’ cupboard for the first seven years of my life! I didn’t even have my own clothes until Frank came and got me. In fact, Frank is the only reason I’m alive and sane. So, please, shut the fuck up and let me get some answers about what really happened to fuck up my life, and just who I need to go kill.”

Frank gripped one of his shoulders, fingers digging in almost hard enough to bruise, and spun him away from glaring at Sirius. He met Frank’s frown and saw the even glare of Frank's blue eyes meeting his. Frank dropped his voice to his low gravely whisper, presumably so that no one else in the room could overhear what was being said.

“Kid, you need to calm the fuck down. Right fuckin’ now. I didn’t raise you to freak out at every little thing, even when you’re stressin’ out. I raised you to recon and get the fuckin’ information first. This isn’t you. You know to regulate your breathing and assess the situation. You know how to keep calm and not let shit get to you. Relax. Just like how you would before a black op. I know you’re all stressed right now, but you flippin’ out is not solvin’ anything. We talked about this earlier. Calm yourself down. Get your shit together. Ignore all the other assholes in the room. Sit here and listen to this guy so you can get some frickin’ answers.”

Harry took in a deep shuddering breath and exhaled through his nose. He hung his head in shame and brought up his hand to grip Frank’s wrist. “Sorry, Frank. I’ll do better. It’s just…”

Frank shook him slightly so that Harry would meet his eyes again. “You’re fine, kid. I’m here. I’ve got you. Just, you know, calm your shit.”

Across from them, the other occupants of the room were watching the interplay with undisclosed interest. Remus cleared his throat and said, “You have an… interesting parenting technique, Mr. Castle.”

Harry raised his head from looking at Frank to meet Remus’ gaze, surprised that the man had heard anything that Frank had said. He bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile at Remus this time. “My dad has the best parenting technique.”

Frank snorted and ruffled Harry’s hair.

Sirius, Severus and Remus watched the two of them dubiously, while Tom smirked at Harry.

“Mr. Potter, I have a feeling that once we get a few things out in the open, you and I will get along quite well,” Tom said smoothly.

Harry just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ok.”

Ragnok, apparently annoyed at yet another ‘emotional outburst’ of the humans, grunted into the room. “I have not finished. Please, no more interruptions. This issue is taking up my time and, in turn, I am losing money. Do not make me regret dealing with this issue personally.”

Harry and Frank both mumbled an apology while Tom, who seemed to be the spokesperson for the others, silkily apologized to the goblin.

Continuing with the last of the legal issues, Ragnok said, “Albus Dumbledore has withdrawn the maximum allowable amount from these vaults for the past 175 months, on the 1^st of each month, starting the 1^st of November in the year of 1981.”

Severus sucked in a shocked breath and opened his mouth to speak.

“No more interruptions!” Ragnok yelled, banging his fist on his desk. “I will have silence! We will finish this, and then you will leave Gringotts. I will not tolerate any more insolence. You lot have taken up enough of my valuable time and patience!” He grabbed the parchment in front of him and began to read again. “These withdrawals have been allocated to the following vaults and/or recipients:

1. Dumbledore Personal Vault:
   Total Transfer to Date: 561,600g
2. Order of the Phoenix Vault:
   Total Transfer to Date: 87,500g
3. Figg Personal Vault:
   Total Transfer to Date: 17,500g
4. Dursley Family:
   Galleons Exchanged for Pounds
   Total Transfer to Date: 28,400g
   Recurring transfer cancelled September 1987 – reverted to Dumbledore vault.
5. Weasley Family Vault:
   Total Transfer to Date: 35,000g
6. Sybil Trelawney
   One Time Transfer: 5,000g

I am assuming, based on your current facial expressions and previous outbursts, that you would like these transactions to cease. If that is the case, I can process those today.”

Harry started to speak, but was interrupted by Frank, “Let’s maybe hold off on cancelling the money right now, kid. Don’t let anyone know you’re on to them, remember?”

Harry frowned for a moment then realized he was right. Smirking at Frank, Harry nodded in agreement. “Yep. Watch ‘em, record the evidence, catch ‘em with their pants around their ankles, ‘n kill ‘em dead, right?”

Tom coughed incredulously at Harry’s statement. He looked over to where Harry was talking to Frank and smiled slowly, “You are a positively intriguing child.”

Glaring back at him, Harry stuck his tongue out. “Not a child.”

“You’re not really proving that right now, kid,” Frank snarked as he lightly smacked Harry’s head and rolled his eyes.

“SILENCE!” Ragnok bellowed into the room, causing everyone to swing back to face him in shock. “Good. Now, since you do not desire to end these transactions, we will continue them, with your legal approval. The accounts will be annotated with the proviso that you may wish to cancel them at a future time, as is your prerogative. Since the historical transactions were considered ‘legal’ in the eyes of Gringotts, however, there will be no way to get restitution for the loss of any monies from your vaults.”

Harry's mouth formed a malicious grin and he snarled out savagely, “That’s fine. Don’t need any money. They’ll pay in other ways… like blood.”

Ragnok nodded in vague approval. Apparently threats of bloody vengeance are completely acceptable in the goblin world. Harry was really warming up to this guy.

“Lastly, a legal magical and physical guardian must be established for voting proxy for the House of Potter and the welfare of Mr. Harry James Potter,” Ragnok droned.

“Oh HELL no! No one… and I mean fuckin' NO ONE is takin’ me from Frank!” Harry shouted as he scrabbled quickly out of his chair and crowded close to Frank’s side. Frank brought his arm around Harry’s shoulders and squeezed him into a reassuring side hug. They weren’t the most demonstrative family. (Harry had probably only received fifteen or twenty hugs in his life from Frank – most when he was returned from being captured or when had he finally perfected a weapon.) But when Harry needed it, his dad was there to comfort him.

“Sit down, Mr. Potter. As of right now Gringotts merely needs to get a name on the record for legal reasons. This is for your own benefit. According to the paperwork submitted earlier, Mr. Castle has been proven and accepted as your physical guardian, even in the magical world. However, you will need a magical guardian and proxy voter for Wizengamot.”

Harry felt lost. His life was so easy before he walked through that hole in the wall. Now, he had to get some bull shit legal magical guardian in this world. Part of him felt like he and Frank should just run… disappear again like they had when he was seven. The other part, the bloodthirsty and vengeful part, wanted to stay and make those who wronged him pay.

That part won out.

“Ok, so I have to have a magical guardian and it can’t be Frank. But Frank can still be my dad?” Harry asked Ragnok.

Ragnok gave him a nod and Harry bolstered himself for his decision. “Ok, well then, I guess I’ll take the Tom guy as my magical guardian. He seems like someone who would be able to understand the voting, and I know he’s pretty strong with his magic, from how he tried to use it before. He was also kinda trusted by my birth parents since he was in the will, and all. So, he’s got that going for him. Also…” Harry glanced up at Frank and continued, “his attitude kind of reminds me of Stark. He seems like he’s kind of pretentious and such, so he’s probably pretty good at business and money and the like. He’d probably be able to help me with my accounts, and maybe help me learn what I need to do.”

Frank nodded his approval at his choice.

Tom lifted one brow, dipped his head in acceptance of Harry's choice then directed a small smile in his direction.

Ragnok stamped some parchments and pushed them toward the edge of his desk. “I will need one drop of blood on each of these documents to approve all of the changes discussed. Each of the parties relevant to the documents will receive copies. Mr. Castle, as a muggle you are not required to sign in blood. However, the option is open to you, should you choose to do so. Once all of the documents are signed, they will be filed, and thankfully our business will be concluded.”

Harry slit his thumb with his knife again and dabbed a drop of blood on each of the presented documents. Frank followed suit using one of his own knives.

Tom murmured diffindo under his breath, pointing his wand at his finger. A small cut opened and dropped his blood on the parchments. He then closed the cut with a quick whispered episkey. Harry thought it was kind of funny how they had to say things out loud to do their magic, but it was cool to hear the words.

Nodding, Ragnok gathered all of the papers. “It has not been a pleasure, but it has been business. Griphook will see you out. Owl me if any changes need to be made to the Potter accounts as I will be the one in charge of them for the foreseeable future.” He gifted them a perfunctory nod then turned and walked out of the room the way that Harry and Frank had come in... not even waiting for a response.

Sirius clapped his hands and turned to Harry. “Pup, I know that we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here. Merlin knows what you must be going through right now with all these revelations. But, if you and your… er, dad would like to join us, we can have some dinner at Grimmauld Place.”

Harry turned to face Frank and mouthed ‘Grimmauld Place’ at him with a disbelieving look. He regarded Sirius skeptically then said, “I’m not whoever you think I am, just so you know. I’m Frank’s kid. He’s my dad. My only dad. I don’t know what you think I remember, but I can assure you… I don’t.”

Frank growled a quiet “Kid…” in warning.

Harry just shook his head. “No, I’m not tryin’ to be a jerk. I’m just letting them know up front, Frank. I’ll agree to go and talk, ‘cus I do think that we all need to talk. I, for one, need some more information on this asshole Dumbledore, or these other assholes, as the case may be, who need me to find ‘em and put ‘em out of my misery.”

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Castle, I would like to extend to you an invitation to dine at Malfoy Manor. It is a neutral space for everyone, I believe, as it is where I currently hold my meetings. It is the residence of my second in command, Lord Lucius Malfoy,” Tom interjected.

Burying his face in his hand, Harry mumbled, “I’m gonna need to learn manners for all of these Lords ‘n shit, aren’t I, Frank?”

Sirius barked out a laugh while Frank just curled his lips into a half-smile.

Chapter Text

Sirius barked out a laugh while Frank just curled his lips into a half-smile.

- Evening of August 5^th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Malfoy Manor -

Harry and Frank followed the four other men into the hallway of the manor, after being ‘keyed to the wards’. Harry understood that concept, kind of. The hallway was full of luxurious items, and way over decorated for Harry’s taste. He nudged Frank with his elbow and whispered, “Think of all the gear we could get if we sold off some of this ritzy ass stuff.”

Frank just shoved him slightly in reprimand.

Walking down the hallway to meet their group was a tall, aristocratic man with glimmering platinum blond hair. It resembled the style that Alexander Godunov had sported in Die Hard. (God, Harry loved that movie. It was Wade and his favorite Christmas movie ever!) He was dressed in black robes, much like the four who had been at the will reading, and walked with an ornate cane. (Didn’t seem like he needed the cane, though.)

He came to a stop in front of their group, faced Tom and bowed lowly.

“My Lord.”

Harry sighed internally and rolled his eyes. (He had a feeling he would be rolling his eyes a lot if he hung out with these people.) He was not the type to bow to anyone. He hoped that he wasn’t going to be expected to do that in this world. He was more the 'hit someone over the head, force them to their knees and make them beg for mercy - before killing them' type of person. He didn’t think he had bowed to anyone besides his martial arts trainers. And Tom, well he didn’t seem much like any Sensei, Sifu, Kru or Arjan that Harry had ever seen.

In fact, he doubted that Tom would last one round with either Frank or him in hand-to-hand combat. He could be wrong... he probably wasn’t.

“I have set the main dining room aside for our meeting, my Lord. The elves (elves???) have made an evening meal, and the rest of the manor occupants have been informed to dine elsewhere,” the man informed them silkily.

Tom waved his hand in vague acknowledgement of the man’s words. “Very good Lucius. Please meet our guests, Mr. Harry Potter and his father, Mr. Francis Castle.”

Frank pinched his lips into a thin line of frustration and gruffly objected the use of his full name. “It's Frank… nobody calls me Francis.”

Harry snickered behind his hand.

Tom spared them both a glance. “I apologize Mr. Castle. I will endeavor to remember your wishes.”

Harry curled his lip in contempt. Tom really was extra. Lucius looked at Harry with slightly widened eyes before his mask of indifference fell over his face again. He moved his gaze over to Frank, and Harry saw his nose wrinkle a little, as if he smelled something on the heel of one of their shoes. Harry took a subtle sniff and glanced down at the soles of his boots. Nothing he could smell or see. He wondered why this Lucius guy had that reaction.

As they continued walking, Harry studied the manor with curiosity. According to his training, he should be scanning for the entrances, exits, and potential threats – he wasn’t. It was just too interesting to be in this place. Besides, this day had been totally overwhelming already.

He didn’t worry too much, though. Frank was here and had his six. And, if Harry was sure of one thing in his short life, Frank would always figure out the threats in every situation that he and Harry were going in to. He’d send a signal if they needed to fight or run.

So, Harry breathed a little easier and just absorbed the sensory overload that was Malfoy Manor and its opulence.

Lucius led them all into the dining room where there was a long table set with elaborate place settings and shining golden candelabras. He saw what looked like more food than he had seen in one place since having dinner at Professor X’s school that one Thanksgiving Logan needed company so that he didn’t finally give in and kill Scott. Harry glanced around, counting the members in the room. There was no way this food could just be for the six of them… seven if Lucius stayed.

Tom gestured for everyone to take a seat in the regal, high-backed chairs. He, of course, took the seat at the head of the table.

“I am assuming that no one here has an issue with including Lucius in this discussion. He is, after all, kindly offering up his table for our discussion, and he is one of my most trusted and valuable followers.”

Raising his eyebrows at Tom’s pretentious speech, Harry huffed out a disbelieving laugh. He gave a Lucius a once over before giving the man a lazy wave of acceptance. “Yeah, whatever, I’ve got no issues with it.”

He glanced over at Frank, who hadn’t said anything, but was studying the new addition to their group with an expressionless face. (Harry knew Frank was reading what kind of man Lucius was, based on his stance and slightly tense shoulders. Only one who really understood Frank would be able to read these signs.)

Frank slowly dipped his head slightly in agreement and clipped out a short, “Fine.”

Lucius, who had let his impassive mask falter slightly under Frank’s intense scrutiny, rallied quickly and the blank look fell once more. He took the seat at Tom’s righthand side. Severus sat next to him, then Remus.

To the left of Tom, Harry took the first position, then Frank. Finally, Sirius down sat across from Remus. Frank and Harry were the last to actually sit, ensuring first that no surprises were going to occur from the other occupants in the room.

Tom smirked knowingly at their reluctance to relax. “Now that we have heard the contents of the wills of your parents, Mr. Potter, I do believe we need to make a plan for how you want to proceed.”

Tom handed Lucius the copies of the parchments that Ragnok had provided. He began to read them immediately. His facial expression did not change, however Harry noticed some widening and narrowing of his eyes when he reached certain areas that caused obvious shock or anger.

“Yeeeaah," Harry drawled to the guys at the table. "You guys should just call me Harry, or Scourge, if you feel like it. Pretty much only Dr. Strange and Professor X call me Mr. Potter. It makes me feel like I’m gonna get in trouble or somethin’,” he insisted. Frank chuckled under his breath.

Remus and Sirius sent him amused smiles. And Severus, who Harry hadn’t had much interaction with, fixed him with an inquisitive stare.

“Why Scourge, Harry?” Severus asked smoothly. He shifted his dark eyes to Frank and then back to Harry. “For that matter, what happened to you that night in 1987, and how did you end up with Mr. Castle as your ‘father’?”

Harry bristled at the implication that Frank wasn’t his real dad. Logically he knew that, but Frank was the only father figure that Harry had ever known.

Chewing on his thumbnail, he considered those sitting around the table. He figured that while these guys didn’t know his whole situation and history yet, they would need to know some things. Frank had said to keep calm, so that’s what he was going to do.

He peeked over at Frank – who sat there, silently, with a blank stare, his arms crossed over his chest. He was going to be no help with telling Harry what he should do or say, as usual. (Frank had always believed that Harry should make his own choices and deal with the consequences, good or bad. He really only intervened during the times when Harry ran off into… iffy situations with Wade.)

Seeing as Frank would be no help with choosing what Harry disclosed in this conversation, Harry decided to tell most of his story. He wouldn’t compromise anything about Frank’s backstory or their associates' lives, but he would at least give them the Disney-esque, glossed over story of his life so far. These guys would need to at least know what had happened to him so that they could share what should have happened. (From their point of view.)

Look at Harry go, being all adult ‘n logical ‘n shit. Frank would be so proud of him when he realized that Harry had learned the value of sharing information.

He started by telling them about that week in September of 1987, smiling at the memory of meeting Frank in the library and discussing revenge. He glossed over the years before he had met Frank, sharing only tidbits of his life with the Dursleys. These guys didn't need to know the whole sordid tale. They didn’t need to see the scars. (Harry got the impression that they knew more than they were letting on anyway.)

Then he moved on to the night when he was rescued from the Dursleys, not really mentioning the deaths, instead focusing more on the leaving part.

“You saved some of your mother’s things?” Severus asked tentatively.

Harry cocked his head in slight confusion. “Yeah, I mean, I didn’t know her or anything. From what I was told back then, she was a drunk whore who got into a car accident with a man who may or may not have been my biological father. But it was her stuff. It was the only tie I had to any of my old family, and I wanted to keep it. I still have the shit back at one of our main houses in the States. It’s really just a couple of old journal-like books, a carved stick (probably her wand or something) and a pin shaped like a lily. If this works out, I'm cool with you looking at it, or whatever.”

Harry could have heard a pin drop at that statement. Besides Frank, who already knew all of this, the other men in the room were gaping at his words. Severus looked white as a sheet and a sheen of tears had formed in Remus' eyes.

“Uh, I mean, I later learned she wasn’t really a whore, but still… that’s what I was told my whole life by my Aunt and Uncle. Um, she did write me a letter, though. Said stuff about my father, the inheritance and a trust. But Frank 'n I could never find any records of anything about that. She also told me that she, uh, loved me… so, yeah, thought I should keep some of her stuff to, you know, remember her by, or somethin'.” Harry cleared his throat in slight embarrassment, not feeling comfortable with all this talk of feelings.

Quickly moving on, he told them about how Frank had taken him from that horrible situation and fixed him up. He told them about their first travels and moving to the States. Frank lifted one corner of his mouth in a wry smile when Harry told them about learning proper fighting techniques and getting his first set of knives. (God, that was a great fuckin’ day.)

He did tell them about Wade and Logan, just not really describing who they were or what they could do. Until he was told otherwise, he would just describe them as ‘friends’ who knew a little more than the average person about violent fighting.

He did not describe in detail how he learned first aid or the number of times he was brought in to learn proper interrogation techniques. He also didn’t mention the number of times that he had been in an interrogation under duress. For that matter, he pretty much completely glossed over the missions and ops that he and Frank did. These guys didn’t need to know how much he had done in his life.

It seemed, however, that no matter how much he skipped over the more violent parts of his life, the more intrigued Tom became.

“You seem to have learned a lot from your father, Harry. It seems that you have a very… specific set of talents, especially if what we witnessed earlier today is what you normally do,” Tom observed.

Harry shot him a cheesy grin. “Frank's great, isn't he?" He proclaimed, his green eyes gleaming brightly. "And, yeah, Tom, you might say I have a small bit of knowledge when it comes to combat.” He smirked at Frank, whose eyes had taken on an amused glint.

Lucius choked out a gasp and blustered, “Tom???”

“Yeah? That’s his name, isn’t it?” Harry asked, glancing at him quizzically.

Sirius snorted, and Lucius looked apoplectic. Tom merely intoned, “Most people do not refer to me as such. But, I will allow it with you.”

Shaking his head at the man's arrogance, Harry snorted. “Oh, ok then, oh benevolent Lord. I appreciate that. You and Stark should really get together sometime.” Frank tapped his leg twice to remind him that they were guests at this dinner party and to behave. Harry just crossed his arms and sniffed petulantly.

Then came the time to tell them about getting his letter to Hogwarts and the ensuing freak out. Sirius laughed in delight when he described the confusion about getting a letter while in the middle of a classified mission. Remus and Severus shook their heads in disbelief at the situation that Harry described. (A little of that disbelief was probably due to the fact that he was eleven on a classified black op, but, hey, it was fun.)

Lucius had completely lost his mask of indifference at this point and was openly staring at Harry with widened eyes.

Harry didn’t mention the extent of techniques Frank used to figure out where the letter had come from, but Tom sat there with a small knowing smirk. Harry figured that he might have some sort of clue as to what had happened with Frank afterwards and the destruction that he caused.

He described meeting Dr. Strange and learning his magic.

“So, you don’t use a wand at all?” Remus asked.

“Wand? Like in the movies? Nah, I just pull the energy from the world around me, think what I want my magic to do, and it does it. The more difficult stuff takes drawing runes in the air with my hands, but I’m strong enough to just flick my fingers in the shape of the runes instead of having to wave my whole hand. I’m not up on all the spells that Dr. Strange knows, but I’m getting there. Besides, I'm still in training. Not sure if I want to be a Sorcerer Supreme, even though Dr. Strange says I could definitely be one someday. It’s a lot of work, and you have to start using artifacts 'n shit. Besides, if I went of to be some sorcerer or some shit, who would be there to hang out with Frank?” He shot an impish grin at Frank who sent him a small shake of his head in exasperation.

“You can make your magic do anything?” Tom asked speculatively.

Harry thought for a moment and shook his head, “Not anything. I mean, I can’t bring back people from the dead or fall in love or anything. I'm not a genie or nothin'. And healing shit is really not my jam. But, like, in a fight it’s pretty awesome. I can do some smaller stuff that stops people from some actions, like silencing and other such shit. Again, runes are the shit. And, this is the best part… I can blow stuff up like a motherfucker,” he chortled.

Frank dryly interjected here for the first time, “Yes, the kid saves us tons on munitions.”

Harry cackled.

Harry described learning to use his magic as well as working with Frank. (Nothing specific, of course.) He mentioned Wade, and how he always called Harry Frank’s ‘mini’ before he finally had his growth spurt, thus getting his own code name. Sirius snickered and said that he would probably like this Wade person. Harry thought that they would probably get along. Frank rolled his eyes.

Finally, Harry told them about coming to London a few days ago and his first reactions to Diagon Alley. He smirked at Tom while recounting their first meeting from his point of view.

“You were invisible? Without a cloak?” Tom looked out at the others around the table then back at Harry. “But there was no magical signature left. No feeling of someone who was disillusioned. Nothing.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, yeah. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Invisible means undetectable,” he said slowly, as if he was describing something new to a child.

Ignoring the surprised looks from the others, he pressed on. He told them about the crazy girl who predicted their meeting and could see through his magic. They were shocked that he had encountered a seer.

“From your description, Harry, that sounds like Ms. Lovegood. She is one of the students that I teach at Hogwarts. Her father owns the Quibbler, a… publication in the wizarding world. It is known that her mother was a seer in her own right. That must have passed on to her daughter. The girl is, as some would say, unique,” Severus explained.

Harry raised his eyebrows at Severus’ description of the girl. “Yeah, that makes sense. She seemed to know way too much about me for never having met me before. Kind of kooky but didn’t really come across as a huge threat. More than anything, I felt confused about the whole interaction. After that, I finally left and got ahold of Frank.”

Severus nodded in understanding, “Yes, I can understand how one might feel that way after a first meeting with Ms. Lovegood.”

“So that brings us to now, really. We did the bank thing and learned about the wills. I learned a ton about my parents, just from that one meeting. I have questions about almost everything, though,” he said. “And I want to know who the fuck this Dumbledore guy is so I can find him and make him suffer… like he made me suffer for the first seven years of my life,” Harry sneered.

The men around the table nodded and Frank reached over and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it in comfort.

Chapter Text

Frank reached over and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it in comfort.

- August 5^th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Malfoy Manor -

Remus, Sirius and Severus shared a look and then a quick nod. Sirius leaned back and looked sadly at Harry.

“Pup, you first need to know about where your parents came from before we get into how they died and who caused it all. We want you to know what kind of people they were, so you can get the whole story,” he told Harry with a sad smile.

He described three boys who went to Hogwarts together. The Marauders, he said. Prongs, Padfoot and Moony. He reminisced about being the best of friends, getting into trouble, and making loads of mischief. About how they were thick as thieves. Inseparable. Brothers.

He chuckled as he described some of their more elaborate pranks.

“They were not nearly as humorous as they thought they were,” Severus intoned before looking directly at Sirius. “And it did not help matters that you had that Merlin damned map. You would drive both Lily and I spare with your dunderheaded ways.”

“Map?” Harry questioned.

“Ah, the Marauder’s Map, cub. Your dad mentioned it in the will. It’s quite a decent bit of charm work that allowed us to see all the secrets of Hogwarts and those who lived within her walls. With that map we were able to track people’s movements, and your father and Padfoot were able to plot their pranks,” Remus chucked.

Before Sirius could continue telling about the past, Harry interrupted. “What’s with the names? Do they mean something? I mean, mine and Frank’s are more for… uh… work purposes. Yours don’t seem to be quite like that,” Harry observed.

Severus muttered a sigh, grumbling about foolish animagi.

Sirius sent Harry a mischievous grin. Then… he turned into a frickin’ dog!

Harry scrambled back in his chair in surprise, while an unflappable Frank merely cocked an eyebrow in question at the transformed animal. A dark, grim looking creature, who was lolling his tongue out to the side in dog-like laughter .

“Hooooly shit! That’s AWESOME! Frank! Did you see that?? That’s like when Freddy stalks Debbie in Nightmare on Elm Street and transforms her into a cockroach... or a werewolf change or something… except he's a dog!” Harry bounced in his seat while grabbing Frank’s arm in excitement.

Harry barely registered the light chuckles of Tom and Lucius while he stared, dumbfounded, at where Sirius sat... in the form of a dog.

Remus’ eyes twinkled and he shot Harry a lopsided smirk. “He may be a dog, but I’m the werewolf here.”

Harry gaped at him. “Like, for real?” Remus nodded at him with a slight chuckle.

Harry paused in thought, “What was my father, if you called him Prongs? Could he change too?”

Remus’ smile took on a nostalgic tinge. “He was a stag. A magnificent, amazing stag. We would all run through the Forbidden Forest on full moons because that’s when I fully transform.” He paused and sighed, letting a little sorrow seep into his voice. “Your father was a wonderful man and a great friend, cub. Merlin, I miss him.”

“Huh.” Harry didn’t really have much to say about that. He felt bad for the guys, but it’s not like he knew his birth father at all.

Sirius had changed back during Remus’ explanation and nodded along with his description of Harry’s father. He then proceeded to tell the story of a boy, James, who had fallen in love with a girl, Lily, from afar. She wouldn’t give him the time of day in the beginning. She mostly stayed with her best friend, Severus. (Here, Sirius coughed 'Snivellus' into his fist and was met with a baleful look from the dark eyed, dour looking man across from him.)

“He annoyed her,” Severus spat out.

“He loved her,” Sirius insisted.

Remus sighed and dropped his head in his hand. He sent Harry an apologetic look. “Their memories might be a bit biased. The fact is, your mother and father eventually got together in their seventh year. They were very much in love and ultimately went on to get married. You were born on the last day of July in 1980. It was such a wonderful occasion for our pack of friends.” He glanced over at Severus and let out a small laugh. “Yes, Severus, including you.”

Smiling at Harry, Remus continued, “You were such a happy baby. You immediately became my cub, Sirius’ pup, and Severus’ future potions partner. You were loved, cub. Losing you that night hurt so much. Losing you a second time almost killed us all.

Silence filled the room as Harry thought about what the men had told him. He knew, logically, that he once had a family. And he also knew that he had been gaslighted as a child to believe that he was never once loved or cherished. But to hear it so openly talked about? It hurt. It made him angry. It made him rage.

He had never been good at ‘love’. That’s not something that he and Frank ever really talked about. It wasn't part of their normal dynamic. But he knew the concept. He had seen the movies. He had read the books. He knew what love was. And he had missed out on that, simply because someone fucked with his world.

Frank looked over at Harry in concern, probably because he hadn’t said a word for a few minutes. He leaned in and muttered quietly, “Hey, kid, you need a break?”

Harry turned deadened green eyes toward the only dad he had ever known and whispered angrily into the room. “No, I need to know. I need to hear what happened. Frank, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. You’re my fuckin’ dad. But something happened to make my life get all fucked up from the beginning. I don’t want to leave this place until I have answers.”

Tilting his head in a show of support, Frank patted him lightly on the shoulder. (Look at Frank being all demonstrative and shit, Harry was so proud) “We’ll stick it out till we figure it out then, kid. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Tom cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to him. “We should probably discuss the evening of your parents’ murders, if that is fine with you Harry.”

Harry nodded numbly. “Yeah, go ahead. I know it’s just gonna get worse. The only thing that’s keeping me from flippin’ the fuck out right now is the fact that I’ll be able to get these shit-stains back for what they did to me.”

Sirius snorted and Remus sent him a vicious grin. Severus nodded in his direction and stated firmly, “Believe me, young man, we will be right there with you to help.”

Tom nodded and began, “I think we should start with the prophecy.” He looked at Severus and gestured for him to speak.

Severus regarded Harry sadly and sighed. His face paled as he spoke solemnly to those at the table, “The prophecy that Sybil Trelawney gave Headmaster Dumbledore in front of witnesses at the Hog’s Head Pub was told just before your birth. The exact wording that she shared was:

“He interpreted that as being James and Lily’s son who was due to be born at the end of July in 1980. Of course it couldn’t be any other child… or any other year for that matter. Old goat,” Severus grumbled. “He always has to be the one who knows the ‘true interpretations’ of everything. So, he forced your family into hiding, placing a fidelus onto the home.”

“What’s that?”

“A secrecy spell so that only certain people who are included in the spell know that location.”

“Oh.”

“He quickly offered Trelawney a Professorship at Hogwarts, we believe in exchange for the prophecy being worded that way, and he obviously ended up paying her off from your trust account.”

Severus took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing, “It wasn’t until later, when the Dark Lord was able to go into the Ministry with Lucius, that we were able to hear the actual prophecy. This was only due to the fact that the true prophecy was generic enough to not name which Dark Lord it pertained to. Our Lord was able to access and listen to it then.”

He shook his head in obvious regret. “But, by that time it was too late. Your mother and father had been murdered, most likely by Dumbledore, and maybe by others as well. Your godfather, Sirius, was blamed for betraying his friends and giving their location away to the Dark Lord. We all know that did not happen, because he and Lupin were in the woods that night for their monthly furry run. Dumbledore claimed that Sirius brought the Dark Lord into the house where they murdered your parents.”

“Again, obviously none of that happened,” he continued with regret. “However, that was what I was told on the morning of the 1^st of November in 1981. Dumbledore fed me all of those lies about you being rescued, fending off a dark curse and being spirited away to a safehouse, where you would be raised with love and tenderness.”

Harry stared at Severus in shock. “Fuckin’ LOVE and TENDERNESS??? I certainly hope that’s not what fuckin’ ‘love and tenderness’ is. Jesus Christ on a fuckin’ crutch.”

Tom raised an eyebrow in Harry’s direction, “You do have the most eloquent way of stating things, young man.”

Harry just flipped him the bird.

At that point, Frank brought his hand over to squeeze once on Harry’s knee, reminding him to calm down. Harry took a deep breath and nodded for Severus to continue his tale.

“We now know what happened to you, so the only issue that we have to deal with is the genuine prophecy,” Severus concluded.

“And some fuckin’ revenge,” Harry glowered.

Frank interjected before Harry could spiral any further into a rant. “What’s the real prophecy?”

Tom met his gaze evenly and said, “Good question, Mr. Castle. I would like to mention, before you hear it, that all prophecies are interpretable. Therefore, no matter the wording, it is not set in stone. When we found the true prophecy in the Ministry it said:

Harry’s heart clenched as he listened to Tom tell them the prophecy. “What does that mean for me? Is that even about me? I mean, I was born at the end of July, but I wasn’t marked or anything.” He turned to Frank, “What does this whole thing mean??”

Frank gripped his arm and pulled him forward into his chest. (Two hugs in one day! That’s a new Frank record, Harry thought ruefully. And all that needed to happen to get Frank to give them was: discovery of the murder of his parents, one man’s treachery and thievery, finding lost ‘family’, and hearing prophecies. Yep… nothing big at all.)

He wrapped his arms around Frank and buried his head in his chest, breathing in the leather scent of his coat deeply while trying to calm down. He needed to shoot something. This was getting to be way too much for him to deal with today. And dinner wasn’t even over!

“What does the ‘marked’ part mean?” Frank asked in his low, calm voice. Harry was so grateful that nothing seemed to ever phase Frank. (He had the best dad.)

Tom hummed in consideration while Severus spoke up again, “When Dumbledore stopped by my rooms the morning after the murders he mentioned that Harry had been hit with a dark curse.” He paused and looked at Harry, “Do you have any scars?”

Harry pulled back from his hug and looked out at the men around the table. “I think the question should be where don’t I have scars,” he snorted, sending them all a sassy smirk.

Sirius and Remus tensed visibly at Harry’s statement, and Severus lost even more color in his face. Tom’s lips pursed in blatant disapproval, while Lucius actually let out a strangled gasp.

“Who?” Was all Remus growled out, while sending a glare Frank’s way.

Harry barked out a laugh and shook his head quickly. “No! You’re insane if you think that Frank would ever lay a hand on me in anger. Make me do laps? Probably. Make me do pushups? Pull-ups? Burpees? Stay in the ‘front leaning rest position' as punishment? Sure. Ground me and keep me from hanging out with Wade? Oh yeah. Definitely.”

Chuckling almost fondly over his dad’s punishments for him, he sent them all a rueful grin. “But, Frank legit hitting me?? Never.”

“The Dursleys hit me all the time.” He sucked in a breath and continued on, without thinking about what he was revealing. “Petunia would catch me upside the head with a frying pan. Dudley would pummel the crap out of me, breaking whatever bones he could. And Vernon, well that asshole would either choke the heck out of me or fuck my shit up with a belt when he was real pissed. My back looks all messed up from it.”

He scratched the side of his temple as he thought about what else he had been scarred with on his body. “Uh, I’ve got some scars from missions and what not, like some small stabbings and other minor shit. And,” he smiled as he pulled his silver streaked hair to the side, “I’ve got this beauty that I’ve had for as long as I can remember.”

Sirius whispered a shocked, “Merlin...”, while the others gaped at Harry’s description of his life with his relatives and beyond.

Tom ignored the shock from the others and leaned forward to inspect Harry’s forehead. He lifted a finger to touch Harry’s scar while asking, “May I touch?”

Harry shrugged indifferently. “Sure, it’s just a scar. I’ve been hit near it before and I thought the design would get messed up, but it always stays the same. It’s pretty fuckin’ cool, no?”

Humming in contemplation, Tom ran his finger down the jagged scar on Harry’s forehead. He felt the telltale tingle that always came when someone touched him there. It caused a small shudder to rack through his body. Tom noticed his movement and lifted an eyebrow in question.

“It always feels weird when someone touches my scar. Frank did it when he found me, and I remember the tingles. It felt good, though, not creepy good or anything, just… you know… nice. Comforting. That’s usually how he calms my shit down nowadays.” Harry explained.

Leaning back, Tom placed his elbows on the table and tented his fingers in front of his chin. “That looks very much like a curse scar, Harry. I believe that Dumbledore might have hit you with a spell that night and caused that scar. There does not seem to be any leftover dark magic in it, however it would make sense that it would be sensitive to the touch. One has to wonder why he would even go to those lengths to hurt you, though.”

Lucius, who had been silent for almost the entire meal, finally spoke up. “My Lord, considering what we know about Dumbledore and how he strives for power and uses pawns, it is likely that he was setting up young Harry as one. With your power rising back then and the Potters potentially moving to your side, he would have been losing face quickly. He could have potentially lost the backing of the Houses of Black, Potter, the werewolf Lupin and even one of his best Professors. This would not do. I postulate that he cursed Harry so that he could be marked, thus being proven as the prophecy child who would bring about your downfall. Then he would be able to make the child into a hero that the Light would follow.”

Harry stared at Lucius while he processed what he said. “Damn, Lucy, you did some ‘splainin there, didn’t you?”

Lucius spluttered and shot an incredulous look at Harry. “Lucy??”

Frank groaned.

Chapter Text

Frank groaned.

- August 5^th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Malfoy Manor -

After Lucius calmed down, he suggested that they retire to the drawing room for the rest of their conversation and some beverages.

"You got a beer for Frank?" Harry asked Lucius, as they settled in the overstuffed seats around a roaring fire. Lucius turned and looked at Harry aghast, like he had just asked if Lucius would strip down and dance naked on the table for tips.

So, apparently... no beer. Harry glanced at Frank and shrugged.

"We have firewhisky, if that is satisfactory to you, Mr. Castle," Lucius pompously offered.

Frank dipped his head slightly in acceptance. "That's fine."

Harry was given something called a 'butterbeer' - way too sweet. But it was wet, and he was thirsty after all this talking. (And it was either that or pumpkin juice - gag!)

They all received their drinks and the conversation got back on track. Harry first brought up the issue regarding the people mentioned by Ragnok. He wanted to know who all the people who had taken some of his parent’s money were. (Well, his money now, he guessed. Although it was kind of weird to think that he had any money other than what he earned from his work with Frank.)

Tom started telling him about Dumbledore first. He explained that the Headmaster was a very slippery character who liked to act like a benevolent grandfather to all of those around. Or more to the point, those who he thought deserved it. He described Dumbledore wearing his ridiculous long robes and having a stupid twinkle in his eyes that he enhanced with his magic. Tom said that he did this to give people he spoke to the feeling that he was to be trusted. That he was honest. (Harry figured that it must work if no one had figured out that this Dumbledore asshole had been stealing for at least the past fifteen years. Who knows who else he had done this to.)

“He has never been a good man, for as long as I have known him. I was an orphan, much like yourself, and he took advantage of that fact. He met me before I even went to Hogwarts and told me all about magic. I am not sure what made him decide that I should be treated as a Dark wizard. As one who would never do any good in the world. Maybe it was the fact that he discovered that I was a parselmouth.”

“A what?” Harry asked, confused by all the new terminology he was hearing.

“I can talk to snakes.” Tom stated almost smugly.

Harry's eyes went wide and he exclaimed, “What?? Like a real conversation? Do they, like, have interesting shit to say?”

Tom subtly quirked one side of his mouth into a smile, “Yes, my familiar Nagini often keeps me very entertained during Death Eater meetings.”

“Familiar… Death Eater... ok, nope,” Harry declared, popping the ‘p’ at the end of ‘nope’ and shaking his head. “There’s just way too much in that statement to even unpack right now. I think we should come back to that little nugget of crazy in a while.”

Inclining his head slightly, Tom agreed. “As you wish.”

Tom resumed his explanation. “Maybe it was because he could tell that even at such a young age I was too powerful for him. He might have taken one look at me and figured that one day I would have the power to take away all those grand positions that he holds. To take away the prestige that he held in the world. All his accolades.” His lips pinched into a thin line. “He only got his ‘revered’ status from fighting Grindelwald. But even that is a touchy subject for those who knew them both.”

“Touchy?” Harry asked. “Why? And who is Grindelwald?”

Tom’s face formed a grimace and he sneered, “A supposed Dark Lord that Dumbledore defeated. However, most believe that he and Dumbledore were not really the enemies that they portrayed to the wizarding world. There were rumors that they were very close friends.”

“Like ‘hide the pickle’ kind of close?” Harry smirked knowingly.

As he said that, Severus started coughing, Remus choked on a laugh, and Sirius almost fell out of his chair guffawing. Lucius again looked like he had bitten into a sour lemon while Tom merely fixed Harry with a droll look.

“One might say that, yes.”

Bringing them back to the subject at hand, Tom resumed his tale. “Those in this room know what he did to me back then. I was ostracized for having power. He made sure that all of the professors feared me and what I ‘would become’, according to him. Everything about me was considered wrong. I was sorted into what was considered the most evil house. I spent too much time researching spells that were not part of his 'approved' list. I was never given a chance to show them that I did not want to become a Dark Lord, like Grindelwald, I just wanted to become powerful in my own right. I even tried to stay at Hogwarts after graduation and teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

He tented his fingers under his chin and continued, a little arrogantly. “I enjoy teaching and am exceedingly knowledgeable about every subject I studied. But that did not fall into the plans of the Great Albus Dumbledore. And in this world at that time, he was the one who made all the plans. Witches and wizards alike fell in with his ideas. He informed me that no one as Dark as me would ever be welcome to teach the innocent lives in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.”

Harry did not think that Tom was the type to roll his eyes when he was annoyed. (Probably too posh.) But if he had been the type… well, Harry would bet two of his Glock 19s that Tom would be rollin’ the fuck out of ‘em right then.

“Ok,” Harry interrupted, “So Dumbledore is a shit stain of an asshole who wants his own way and gives everyone around him who doesn’t fall in line the creeps. Is he just stealing from me? Or did he do stuff to other people too? I mean besides treating you like crap, and all.”

Tom paused, deciding for a moment his next words. “There have been rumors that he not only steals money, but he might also steal magic from certain individuals. Severus has felt a leach from him at certain times during his tenure at Hogwarts.” He looked over at Severus who gave a reluctant nod. “He mentioned that it is only while he is inside the school. And if that is happening, young Harry, it is an abomination to Mother Magic and all she stands for. You do not steal magic from another magical being. It is worse than stealing money. Worse than causing physical pain. It is akin to stealing the life force from a magical creature. To do that darkens the very soul of the thief until all that is left is rotten putrid blackness. It is the worst offense that one can do in our world.”

“Well,” Harry huffed out as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s just shit. This guy is clearly beggin’ for some time with me ‘n Frank in Baby GTMO.”

Frank’s shoulders shook minutely in silent laughter. Harry snickered, feeling proud that he was able to crack Frank's stoic facade a little.

Lucius’ face contorted in confusion. “Baby GTMO?”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, peering at Frank for support. Frank, as usual, just stared back blandly. (Thanks, Frank.) “Uh, it’s, uh, where… you know… we ‘chat’ with people. They usually end up pretty talkative after a while of hangin’ out with us down there.”

It was Tom this time whose shoulders shook in silent laughter. “You are a positively fiendish young man. If we can work together, I have a feeling that Dumbledore will never see either of us coming.”

Harry bared his teeth at him in a sneer. “It’ll be fun.”

Frank shook his head in exasperation and interrupted the two before they could continue their murderous plotting. “Who are the other people on that list? We know the Dursleys. I had the pleasure of meetin’ them a while back.” Harry snorted while Frank ignored him and kept talking. “Wasn’t a long meeting. Don’t think they enjoyed it at all, but it didn’t matter to me much. I wasn’t impressed with them anyway from what I did see when I picked up Harry. But it didn’t matter that they didn’t enjoy it, me and kid sure as hell did.”

Severus coughed lightly, “Yes, I happened to see firsthand how your meeting with the Dursleys ended up. It was quite… effective.”

Frank sent one of his very rare grins Severus’ way, full of teeth and a little too menacing to be considered an actual smile. More like a snarl. “Yeah, me ‘n the kid had a real good conversation with them that night. Didn’t we, kid?”

Harry beamed at Frank. “Yup. One of my favorite memories with you.”

Sirius and Remus stared at the pair of them, speechless. Severus cleared his throat, “Ah, yes, I suppose I could see that.”

Remus was the first to recover from his slight shock. “Ok, well, glad to hear that you enjoyed yourself, cub. As for the other payouts, one of them from your vaults is to Dumbledore’s Order. Technically called the Order of the Phoenix, it is a group of people that Dumbledore uses to push his propaganda. He has them do missions for the ‘greater good’. Sirius and I would know, we were part of it, along with your parents.”

He glanced at Severus, “Severus was supposed to be part of it as well, but Dumbledore considered him a ‘spy’ for the Light. He had him get in close with Lord Voldemort and learn what was going on in his meetings. Anyone who did not obey blindly when Dumbledore gave an order was considered Dark, and therefore punished in some way. This could mean being forced to give up more time for missions, being sent away on ridiculous tasks for the ‘Light’ or even giving up some money for the cause. He is very good at guilting people into believing that if they are not following him then they are leading the wizarding world, and in turn magic, into Darkness.”

He paused and growled low in his throat, “They started to push propaganda that werewolves were extremely dangerous Dark creatures who should be given no rights in the wizarding world.” He stopped and shook his head ruefully. “Merlin, I worked with these people, side by side. I trusted them. Then they would treat me no better than a barely restrained wild animal. It was pure fortune that I was out with Sirius that night, otherwise I fear that they would have tried to make it seem that I had betrayed your parents too. And, cub, believe me… I would not have been put in Azkaban for my betrayal. No, I would have been given the kiss.”

“Ookaay, let’s just assume that you’re talking to someone who knows nothin’ about your world… like me. What is Azkaban? And why is a kiss a bad thing? I mean, assuming you’re not asexual or somethin’. Cus that’s cool if you are. It’s whatever. No judgement here. You do you.”

Frank smacked him upside the back of the head to stop his rambling. “Shut up, kid. You’re starting to sound like Wade.”

Harry grinned back at him and rolled his eyes. “Like that’s an insult.”

Sirius was the one to answer Harry’s original question. “Pup, in our world the worst and most dangerous criminals are put in a prison called Azkaban. It is guarded by truly horrific creatures known as dementors. They feed on the happy memories of their victims, causing the prisoners to go crazy from lack of good emotions. Dementors have the ability to drain one’s life and suck the soul out of their body, leaving a husk of a person to wither over time and die. It is the most abhorrent way to die. Merlin, I would rather take a damned AK to the chest before getting kissed.”

Harry mouthed ‘AK’ at Remus in confusion. He explained that it was the spell to kill someone, one of the unforgivable spells. He went on to explain crucio and imperio as well, telling Harry that it takes strong intent to harm in order to perform any of them.

Side eyeing Tom, Harry chortled. “Bet you’ve got them all down, don’t you Tommy Boy.”

Tom narrowed his eyes, “Yes, and you’ll get to experience one of them if you call me that again.”

Harry raised his hands in a show of surrender while mockingly crying out, “No! Please!”

He started cackling in full force before readjusting himself in the chair and paying attention once again. “Fine, I’ll be good… promise.” He quickly slanted a glance Frank’s way as he made the promise, but he could tell that Frank wasn’t fooled by his antics at all.

“So, who is this Figg person? It can’t be that crazy cat lady who lived down the street, can it?” Harry asked.

Severus chimed in, “Arabella Figg is a squib, one who has a magical core but is unable to perform spells or access their magic. She does live a few houses down from where you were living with the Dursleys. It is my understanding that Dumbledore had her looking out for you. She obviously was being paid for her services from your trust vault.”

“Well, she did a shitty ass job of looking out for me. And her house smelled like straight up cat piss,” Harry scoffed. “Also, who are the Weasleys? I’ve never heard of them before. They weren’t people who lived on my street, were they?”

Lucius spoke up this time. “The Weasleys are considered blood traitors. They have spurned the true ways of magic and embraced the…” he curled his lip, “muggle ways.” He looked over at Frank and bowed his head in slight concession to the imposing man. “I am sure that some muggles are worthy, however most are ignorant of our ways, and therefore pose a threat to our way of life.”

Harry glanced at Frank and back at Lucius. “Muggle, non-magic right? Well, Frank’s been around magic shit since I was eleven. He’s pretty numb to it. Fuck, with all he’s done and seen, he’s pretty numb to almost everything,” he chuckled. Frank reached over and cuffed him lightly on the back of his head again before he could duck out of the way.

“How… wonderful,” Lucius intoned. “The Weasley family is one that is extremely poor. They are a light family and follow Dumbledore blindly. You can always tell a Weasley because they all have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”⁽¹⁾

“Alright, so the last person on that list is the Trelawney bitch who started this whole thing with the fake prophecy. Ok, good. Lists are good. Lists keep things in order. Now that I know who to kill, I just need to go out and do it,” Harry stated firmly.

Tom pondered him for a moment before saying, “Well, young Harry, you do have all of the players in this plot, however I have to question if merely killing them is enough for you.”

Cocking an eyebrow in question, Harry drawled, “Color me intrigued, Tom. What are you thinkin’ behind those pretty little red eyes of yours?”

Over the sounds of Lucius spluttering and Sirius choking on a laugh, Tom proceeded to tell Harry his thoughts on revenge. How good it would feel to not only kill the people who murdered his parents, but to positively ruin them and their ideals beforehand.

Harry thought Tom sounded a little like Frank back when they first met, talking about retribution and rage. Thinking about how good it had felt to press down on the trigger and take out the Dursleys, he considered playing the long game… getting revenge. Letting his vicious streak come out and play, but in a more subtle manner than they usually used. A sting operation, as Frank would say. He could stake out his prey, wait until they were vulnerable, then attack. Yes, he could do that. The only question was how.

Turning to Frank he asked, “What do you think?”

Frank sat there, silent and considering, arms folded across his punisher logo, legs crossed at his ankles. He looked at the other men in the room and then let his gaze come back to settle on Harry. “Kid, you’re my kid. I want you to be happy with what you choose. Revenge is a real personal choice. And it’s a choice only you can make. Just like that night so many years ago, I figure you got a couple choices: I’ll help you hunt ‘em and take em out quick, or… you can do like these guys say and make it hurt bad… real bad… like rubbin’ salt 'n Tabasco in razor blade cuts on someone’s chest. Like stickin’ needles under their fingernails and twistin’ ‘em. Like when you slowly pull a garrote around someone’s neck, only to let it go and pull it tight again. Or gouging’ someone’s eyeball out with an ice pick. Like slowly digging a knife into the scrotum of your victim, listenin’ to them scream. You can make it hurt… then you can end it. Either way, I’m with you. There’s nothing that can happen in this world that will make it so I’m not on your side.”

Frank nodded his approval at Harry. “It’s your choice, kid. And I back you 100%, no matter what.”

The other occupants of the room had gone slightly green with Frank’s description of what Harry and Frank potentially (yeah, right… potentially) did to people in order to get information. Sirius had crossed his legs in unease when Frank mentioned the knife in the scrotum, much to the amusement of Harry. He was going to have so much fun with these guys!

Tom raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That has to be the most I have heard you say at one time, Mr. Castle, and I quite approve of your methods.” His gaze fell on Harry. “You will have help if you want to get your revenge on these people. I will help you.” He pointed to Sirius, Severus, Remus and Lucius. “They will help you. We will figure out the best way to destroy those who hurt not only you, but so many others.”

Harry tapped his fingers against his knee in thought. He could do this. They could figure out a decent plan for him to make them all pay. Pay with humiliation, pay with anguish, pay with agony. And then… they would pay with blood.

Chapter Text

And then... they would pay with blood.

- August 5^th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Malfoy Manor -

Harry bit back a yawn as the conversation in the room wound down. He wanted to plan out his revenge, but this day had just taken all of his energy. What with the will reading, the emotional rollercoaster of meeting his ‘uncles’, finding out that his parents were actually murdered, discovering he had been cheated and stolen from, and having a very good dinner and then a (kinda shitty) drink… he was exhausted. He looked over at Frank and sent him a sheepish look as another yawn escaped.

Frank scrutinized him for a moment before telling the men in the room that it was time to wrap things up for the evening. “We can come back, but kid has had a rough day. He needs a decent kip before we do any more talkin’ about important shit. Can’t plan with a tired mind.”

Lucius politely offered to put them in rooms in the manor for the evening, but neither of them felt comfortable enough to stay in a foreign place. With unknowns. Even if the men in the room did seem like they were above board.

Frank shook his head, declining the offer. “Thanks, but we’ll head out to our place in London. We need to check on some things tonight anyway.”

Tom and Lucius said their goodbyes but stayed seated in the drawing room. They were probably planning on discussing some very important things after Harry and Frank left, Harry supposed. Tom suggested that they meet the next morning for breakfast at the manor. Harry and Frank agreed to the plan, saying that they would be back around nine the next morning to continue their conversation. Sirius, Severus and Remus all stood to walk them out.

“Merlin, pup, when you walked through those doors in Gringotts today, well… I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life. It was like having that missing part of the Marauders back. And before you or Moony say anything, no… I am not trying to make you take James’ place. At all. If anyone knows what it feels like to be forced into being something that they are not, it’s me. And I know that this is a weird time for you, learning about all of this history and Dumbledore’s plots. But, pup, we’ll work together to fix it,” Sirius promised. He stepped forward as if trying to give Harry a hug, but Harry quickly sidestepped it, grinning awkwardly.

Remus nodded to them both. “You have our word that we will do everything in our power to make that old goat pay for what he has done to our pack. Like Padfoot said, I’m just glad to see you again, cub.” He didn’t try to hug Harry, but he did extend his hand to shake goodbye. Harry eyed it dubiously then gave it a quick, tentative shake.

Severus intoned a quiet and serious goodbye, wishing them a good evening until they saw each other again in the morning.

Frank grabbed Harry around the back of the neck and steered him toward the end of the drive to ‘acquire’ a car to get back to their London safehouse. As Frank drove the couple hours from Wiltshire back to their spot in London, Harry leaned his head against the window in thought. Watching the scenery fly by in the evening dusk, he was lulled to sleep, dreaming of how to mount an attack on one Albus Dumbledore and his merry band of fuckwads.

- London Safehouse -

Frank pushed Harry through the door after he checked that nothing in their house had been disturbed. He guided him down the small hallway to Harry’s room where he flopped on the bed like a starfish, exhausted from the day. Harry barely registered as Frank’s big, calloused hands took his weapons and holsters off, and stripped him of his boots and leather coat. He pushed his kid under the covers and stared down at him for a moment before turning to leave the room.

“Hey, Frank?” Harry mumbled tiredly from the bed before Frank walked out.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Um, so, I don’t think I’ve ever said this to anyone before in my life,” he whispered hesitantly into the room. “But you deserve to hear it more than anyone I know.”

He sat up and faced the man who had raised him from the time he was seven years old. The man who had protected him, taught him, fed and clothed him. The one who had allowed him to fail, and the one who always gave his Frank-esque, subdued praise to lift him up when he did well. His dad. Harry owed this man everything.

Sucking in a trembling breath, he looked at Frank and said, “Meeting those people tonight made me realize that without you saving me, I would be nothing by now. My life could have been a straight up shit show if I hadn’t met you. I could have had such a horrible life if I had been left in that place. The Dursleys could’a killed me. That Dumbledore asshole could have ruined me even more than I was when you found me. You saved me, Frank. I owe you my life. And I… um, well... I, uh, guess I… love you?"

He reached up and scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes in embarrassment. "I mean, I think? ‘Cus, I was thinking about it when they were talkin’ about how much my parents loved me ‘n how I’d never really had that or needed that shit. But then I realized that I did have that growing up. It was just different from the crap like they were sayin’. Or what they say in the movies or the books.”

Harry breathed in a deep, fortifying breath and pushed on. “Frank, you’re the best dad I’ll ever have. Full fuckin’ stop. Wait… Fuck that… you’re the only dad I’ll ever have. No matter what I learn about my birth parents. No matter what those guys end up bein’ in my life. You’re the one I’ll always need to have my six.” He ducked his head self-consciously, feeling raw from baring so much of himself to the stoic man who had raised him.

Frank stared at him coolly while Harry expressed his feelings, then walked back to where he was sitting on the bed. He reached out a hand, brushed the hair back on Harry’s forehead and slowly traced his scar with his finger.

“I know, kid… sometimes, what the heart knows, the head forgets.” He said affectionately as he patted Harry on the head.

Harry batted his hand away with a grunt, and, with a slight blush on his cheeks, he muttered, “Really, Mr. Miyagi?” He whooshed out a relieved breath. “Okay, good, we don’t have to ever have to talk about this shit again, though, right? I mean, you get it?”

Frank huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah, kid, I get it.” He told him to get some sleep. That they had a full day of planning some revenge the next day, and he needed his rest to be in his best mindset. Frank turned and left the room, only looking back once to make sure that Harry actually closed his eyes and drifted off.

- August 6^th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Malfoy Manor -

Before breakfast even started, Tom requested to meet with Frank and Harry in his study. They gathered in the large room, lined with shelves of books and old looking artifacts. Harry could feel magical energy pouring off of them. Tom’s large desk was made of ancient polished wood, and he rounded it to sit in the large green velvet chair behind it.

“Harry,” Tom started, when Frank and he had sat down in front of the desk, “We discussed your situation last night after you left. I will, of course, be taking on the mantle of your magical guardian and voter proxy. I do realize that Mr. Castle is your physical guardian, but I believe that it would be best for all parties if you were to stay in the wizarding world until you reach your majority. He is, after all, a muggle and not trained in our ways. You should stay here so that we can ensure you are prepared for this fight. Also, this way, I can train you with what you need to know for when you take the mantle of your Lordship.”

Tom paused for a moment and looked at Frank, “I think you should let him stay here, Mr. Castle, for the whole year before he attends Hogwarts. Give me the opportunity to groom him, to mold him into someone who is not so brash and reckless. Someone who will fit in. You can stay with him, of course, but he needs to learn from us what it really means to be a wizard. What it means to be someone of this world.”

”He needs to focus on wizarding magic, not muggle weapons and fighting tactics.” Tom continued, shaking his head slightly over Harry’s use of ‘muggle fighting tactics’. “Harry needs to stop relying on knives and pistols and embrace his true heritage. He does not need to be running off in an attempt to do anything rash.”

”No,” he impressed on the two others in the room, “let him work with my followers so that he can become the best wizard the wizarding world has seen. The leader that they wanted so badly. If he is the child of the prophecy, which I believe he is, then he will need all the help he can get to fight Dumbledore and this war. Let us be the ones to get him ready so that we can send him to school when he turns seventeen. He may be trained in your muggle ways and in the magical ways of this Dr. Strange, but he needs to learn about true wizarding magic.”

Tom leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers under his chin as he studied Harry and Frank. “As his magical guardian, it is my belief that this would best be done here, in the manor, with me. And his ‘uncles’ as well. But, we should really be the ones to help him in this situation, instead of him resorting to your muggle ways.”

He looked back at Harry and emphasized, “I think you would agree that this would be best for this situation, yes? Allowing me to take over your training and guide you in the appropriate direction?”

Frank shifted slightly in the seat beside Harry. His eyes had narrowed into an angry glare toward the wizard sitting across from them. He opened and closed his gloved hands into fists, and his lips had thinned into a tight line. This had to be the most outwardly angry that Harry had ever seen Frank, except during a mission fight, that is. Frank just didn’t express his anger visibly, and this was seriously starting to be cause for alarm. (For Tom at least… Harry figured he was pretty safe from whatever his dad was mad at since he hadn’t recently fucked anything up that he knew of.)

Harry wondered if (no, not if...when) this situation would devolve into bloodshed. Forget about what Tom had just said about the prophecy and all that wizarding world and training crap, Harry was now solely focused on Frank’s reaction.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, Frank?” Harry responded quickly.

“Leave the room.” Frank ordered softly, without breaking eye contact with Tom.

Harry immediately rose from his chair and exited the office. He knew Frank, and if he gave an order, there was a reason for it. He stood outside the door, but made sure to leave it open a crack… just to make sure Frank was okay.

He watched Frank slowly rise from the chair and stalk silently toward the desk. Tom leaned back to observe his movements, but did nothing to protect himself as Frank advanced. (Not the smartest move on Tom’s part, in Harry’s opinion.)

When Frank reached the edge of the desk, his hand snaked out and grabbed Tom’s neck, his movement too fast for the man to do anything to stop it. Frank yanked him over the desk towards his face, so close their noses almost touched.

He squeezed.

Hard.

Hard enough that Tom couldn’t speak and Harry could only make out choked sounds gasping from the man’s lips. Harry could hear the leather of Frank’s glove creaking with each constricting movement.

“Look here, you little shit stain, you don’t get to hold any of that prophecy shit or wizarding BS over my kid’s head in an attempt to make him feel like he needs to fall in line with your 'people'. And you sure as fuck don't get to tell him what is best for him. Almost sounds like you're just as bad as that Dumbledore asshole,” he growled as he pulled one of his knives and slipped it under Tom’s chin.

“Kid's had enough trauma, guilt and fucked up shit to last his whole fuckin’ life. You don’t get to force him into making the choice you want him to by guiltin' him into how you want him to fit into your war, or whatever. He gets to choose his own path. He’s strong enough to make his own way. I made fuckin’ sure to raise him that way.”

Harry watched as Frank twisted the knife deep into Tom's neck. Deep enough to draw a drop of blood that ran down into the collar of Tom’s robes, leaving a crimson trail in its wake.

Frank snarled, “No outside influence from you or those other fuckwads. Just give him the fuckin’ facts. You seem pretty invested in pushin’ him into your way of living. And, fuck, it might even be the right way for the kid, but you don't get to just fuckin' choose for him." The leather creaked a little more as his fingers flexed tighter on Tom's neck. (Tom would probably have bruises after this little conversation with Frank.)

"Now, I don’t give a flyin’ fuck if the kid wants to stay, wants to go, wants to kill someone 'the muggle way' or wants to become a fairy fuckin’ princess… but, he gets to choose… got it? Keep your fuckin’ smooth suggestions about what he ‘needs’ to do to yourself and just give him the options. He’s a smart fuckin’ kid, and he’s my fuckin’ kid. Treat him that way. I’ll back whatever he chooses. But you better lay it out honestly, or this little poke in your neck? Well, it might just become a giant fuckin’ hole in your head.” He snarled.

Harry could tell that Tom was slowly losing the ability to breathe as his face turned more and more red. Although, his face would have probably paled in reaction to Frank’s threats, if it could.

Tom was trying to reach into his robes with one hand while using the other hand to clutch at Frank’s wrist, in a futile attempt to get him to release his grip. Tom choked out a reply that Harry couldn’t quite hear.

Stepping back from the door, Harry turned and looked down the hall to see if anyone was going to come this way and bother the two in the office, but he saw no one. He shrugged indifferently and finally pulled the door closed. It seemed that Frank had the situation with Tom well in hand. It didn't look like he was needed for backup at all.

He should probably just go hang out in the drawing room until breakfast was ready. He was getting pretty hungry, and he hoped that they served normal food here… not just that English fry-up crap. He could really go for some decent hash browns.

Sitting in the drawing room, Harry fiddled with his knife while he waited for Frank and Tom to finish their conversation. He thought a little about what Tom had brought up. Yeah, Frank was right when he said that Tom was biased one way and wanted to take complete control over Harry’s life in the wizarding world. But there was a bit of truth to what he had said.

If Harry wanted to get in and ruin this Dumbledore, he would need to know this world. He would need to learn their ways so that he could fit in. He didn't think that Tom was being completely self-serving, but he obviously did need Harry to help him fight Dumbledore.

And the prophecy... if it was about him? Well that definitely gave Harry pause. It said that he would bring a reckoning. True, he was The Scourge, but how much reckoning could one person have in regards to an entire wizarding world? Once Frank and Tom were done with their little chat, he would need to get a few answers before he chose what he wanted to do.

Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he flicked his knife open and closed, entranced by the blade and its sharp edge. He imagined stabbing the knife into the neck of Dumbledore, even though he had no idea what the man looked like. He probably looked like Santa... or Gandalf. He imagined the knife hitting the coronary artery. Blood spraying everywhere. Harry smirked as he imagined stepping back and watching as the old fuck bled out, light dying in his eyes as he faded from life.

Pulling out his phone he shot Wade a quick text. His phone shocked him as he pressed 'send', but seemed to work fine otherwise.

Dead
—————

(Scourge) 09:12

dude miyagi is fukin this guys shit up upstairs

(Dead) 09:12

at least sme1 is gttn lei’d

(Scourge) 09:13

eew hes kickn the guys azz not the othr thng

(Scourge) 09:13

srsly gross man thts my dad

(Dead) 09:14

wat? he culd stnd 2 get sme azz

(Dead) 09:15

ooh... is he... punishing him?? ;)

(Dead) 09:16

bow chikka wow wow

(Scourge) 09:17

staap *throws up in mouth*

(Dead) 09:18

8==D (*) 8==D

(Dead) 09:18

0_0

(Scourge) 09:19

i hate u so much

(Dead) 09:20

u miss me admit it

(Scourge) 09:21

u wish

(Dead) 09:23

wrds hurt mini menace gtg tell frnk 2 get it!

Shaking his head at the sheer ridiculousness of Wade, Harry’s shoulders shook and his hair fell over his forehead blocking out his vision. As he lifted his hand to flip it to one side and out of his eyes, he noticed movement by the door. Looking up, he met the cool, ice gray stare of the most pretentious, snobbish looking boy he had ever seen. The boy had to be around Harry's age. He was wearing a white silk button down shirt and tailored slacks. (Harry didn't even own slacks, let alone tailored ones.) His perfectly porcelain skin, light blond hair and patrician looks made Harry realize that he was probably some relative of Lucius'. The kid’s air of superiority rivaled that of Dr. Strange. Looking disdainfully at Harry, he wrinkled his nose and turned to speak to Lucius, who had just walked up behind him.

"Père, qui est cet individu dégoûtant dans le salon?"⁽¹⁾ He asked, while scowling at Lucius. (Father, who is that disgusting individual in the drawing room?)

Lucius glanced quickly at Harry then answered the other boy. “C'est un invité de notre Seigneur, Draco, comportez-vous et traitez-le avec respect.”⁽¹⁾ (That is a guest of our Lord, Draco, behave and treat him with respect.)

Draco lifted his nose in the air and sniffed haughtily. “Il a l’air sale.”⁽¹⁾ (He looks filthy.)

Lucius tapped his cane on the marble floor irritably. “Agissez de façon appropriée! Il ne comprend pas notre monde. Il est Harry Potter, et il sera un jour un Seigneur.”⁽¹⁾ (Act appropriately! He does not understand our world. He is Harry Potter, and he will be a Lord one day.)

"Ouais, chérie, sois gentil avec moi. Je serai peut-être responsable de toi un jour."⁽¹⁾ Harry snorted from his spot on the couch, flipping his knife in the air. (Yeah, sweetheart, be nice to me. I might be in charge of you someday.)

"Кого ты называешь возлюбленной?"⁽²⁾ Frank grumbled as he walked into the drawing room, behind the two blond Malfoys. (Who you calling sweetheart?)

"Frank!” Harry exclaimed with glee, “Je viens peut-être de rencontrer mon nouveau meilleur ami. N’est-il pas joli? Ses cheveux sont si brillants!"⁽¹⁾ (Frank! I might have just met my new best friend. Isn't he pretty? His hair is so shiny!)

Frank looked first at Draco in assessment, then back at Harry while lifting one brow. "Перестань беспокоить мирных жителей. я закончил с моим чатом. Теперь мы все можем поговорить. Приходи завтракать и оставь свою хорошенькую подругу в покое."⁽²⁾ (Stop bothering the civilians. I am done with my chat. We can all talk now. Come to breakfast and leave your pretty friend alone.)

"Прекрасно... разрушить все мое удовольствие."⁽²⁾ Harry pouted as he followed Frank out of the room. (Fine... ruin all my fun.)

"Pretty?? PRETTY??? Did you really just call me pretty?? Father! Did you hear him?" Draco screeched as Harry and Frank ignored him and walked away toward the dining room. Lucius just shook his head and followed them, beckoning his son to follow.

Draco hurried to catch up to Harry, mumbling about boys who should tell others that they understood French instead of just sitting there… and wondering who in Merlin’s name knew how to speak Russian in Wiltshire.

Harry snickered and shot him coy grin. “Maybe you should bulk up on your languages there, pretty boy.”

Gawking at him, Draco squawked in disbelief.

Chapter Text

Gawking at him, Draco squawked in disbelief.

- August 6^th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Breakfast, Malfoy Manor -

Tom, who had apparently recovered from whatever happened during his conversation with Frank, sat at the head of the table again. (Harry was a little disappointed. He didn’t even have visible bruises!) Severus, Sirius and Remus had arrived while they were ‘chatting’, and Lucius and Draco also joined them.

Finally, an elegant woman walked into the dining room. She stood tall and slim and was dressed in stylish dark silver robes that offset her long blond hair. Her pale blue eyes scanned the table’s occupants, settling on Harry and Frank before entering. Lucius introduced her as his wife, Narcissa Malfoy.

She swept in the room and inclined her head toward Tom, “My Lord.”

As she entered, everyone stood from where they sat, except for Tom. (Of course.) Even Harry knew to stand when a woman reached the table. He had at least been taught that much by Frank. (Not that he had any other manners to mention.)

They had just taken their seats again when small, wrinkled bug-eyed hobgoblins literally popped into the room and snapped their fingers to make the food appear. Harry jerked in his chair and stared at the weird creatures. They were ‘dressed’ in pillowcases and had huge floppy pointed ears. He glanced dubiously at them before they popped out of the room. “Uh…” He looked at Tom and the others for answers. “What?”

“House elves, Mr. Potter. They take care of the manor,” Narcissa’s aloof voice informed him.

Harry eyed her dubiously then looked back at where the elf had disappeared. “Huh.”

“Also,” he turned to face her again, “you can call me Harry, or Scourge, if you want.”

“Very well, Mr. Scourge,” she conceded.

Defeated, Harry dropped his head in his hand. “Yeah, I guess that works too,” he mumbled.

Sirius snorted at his obvious frustration while the rest of the table’s occupants began their breakfasts.

Harry could tell that Draco was itching to ask questions, but he had apparently been brought up with those ‘manners things’ that Frank had never really bothered to teach when Harry was being raised. (Except which manner of torture was going to be used, that is.) He figured he should put the kid out of his misery before he burst a blood vessel or something, ruining his pretty face.

“Hey, Draco, right?”

Draco inclined his head imperiously, “Yes, I am Draco Lucius Malfoy, Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy.”

Harry mouthed ‘heir to the...’ and rolled his eyes. “Well, Heir Draco Lucius Malfoy, I’m Harry James Potter, Scourge and general pain in everyone’s as…”

Frank reached over and gripped Harry’s knee, hard, before he could finish his introduction. He shot the older man a sulky look. “I was just introducing myself, Frank.”

“Behave. We have shit to discuss. We don’t need you and your snarky ass comments to cause this kid to blow a fuckin’ gasket,” Frank muttered. Harry thought it was fairly hypocritical of Frank to swear at the table when he was stopped. But he toned it down and merely shot Draco an impish smile. (He would get to know pretty boy later on.)

Tom sighed loud enough to cause everyone at the table to give him their whole attention. “We do need to plan, young man. First, I must… apologize.” He looked briefly at Frank before continuing, “I might have been a bit… hasty with my assumptions during our conversation earlier. Apparently, I had not entirely taken into account your… feelings on this matter.”

Harry hummed and fixed Tom with a knowing look. “Huh, that's a change of tune from earlier. Yeah, I get it, though," he chuckled. "Frank has that effect on people. But, no worries, Tom.” (Draco choked on his bite of food upon hearing Harry call him ‘Tom’.) “We’re all good. I just want to get it all out there so that I can make the best decision about how to fuck this guy up.”

He shot Frank a quick glance to see if he would get in trouble for swearing at the table that time. Frank just sat there, observing the conversation with his arms crossed over his chest. So, apparently not gonna get in trouble over a random ‘fuck’ or two. Approval of swearing is subject to topic at hand… got it.

Frank sent him a sardonic half-smile after his declaration and Tom cleared his throat. “I would like to start over with your options then, if that is amiable to all.”

Harry nodded and Frank’s leather covered fist creaked. Tom’s eyes widened a little, probably remembering that fist closing around his neck, but he continued on, “As I said earlier, I am now considered your legal magical guardian.”

“On paper,” Frank’s voice grated out in interruption.

Nodding slightly with obvious irritation, Tom clenched his jaw and agreed. “Yes, on paper. However, until we can work something out otherwise, I am considered the guardian according to the magical world and Gringotts. I will be happy to explain what that means, as well as explain the proxy voting in Wizengamot.”

Harry accepted this statement with a small wave of his hand. “Sure, knock yourself out. I understand little to nothing about this shit. I’ll need all the help I can get. Pretty sure I want to make sure that my biological father’s wishes are followed from his will, but I don’t really get what that entails.”

Lucius chimed in then. “Well, Mr. Scourge…”

“Jesus Christ, guys, it’s just fuckin’ ‘Harry’ or 'Scourge'. No need to add the whole ‘Mr.’ shit in there.”

“There are many different matters that come before the Wizengamot. Currently Albus Dumbledore has the majority on his side due to his illegal use of your votes and the backing of the House of Potter, which he claims is 100% Light. If those votes were to swing to the Gray or Dark side, he would then lose the majority.”

Lucius paused and verified with Tom before continuing, “I believe that is what My Lord is referring to. He would like you to verify that you do want to stop all votes for the Light side and back the Gray faction totally. Or even the Dark, if you so choose. This will help those issues like werewolf rights, the rights of other Dark creatures, and the secession of the bastardization of magic as we know it. Dumbledore is continuously attempting to bring in more and more muggle ways into our world, making the old ways illegal and seem harmful to wizards and witches alike. In turn, those who want to follow the old ways are considered Dark wizards who should be persecuted.”

“Ah huh. Okay. So, you want to take my votes and stop this whole takeover of Wizengamot. Sure,” he looked at Frank for approval. Frank stared blankly back for a moment then barely dipped his head, prompting Harry to continue. “Okay, yeah. That sounds good. I want to take away all that this Dumbledore fuckhead has. And if it starts there, good. What else can we do? I know there has to be more.”

Tom peered over at Frank again before cautiously beginning to tell Harry his next idea. “One option for you is to get the locations of the people involved, from both myself and those around this table. We know these individuals and where they are located. We would be able to let you know the whole list. Once you have those names, you and your father can exact punishment as you see fit.”

Harry leaned back from the table and tapped his fingers on his knee. That sounded like a good plan. It was, after all, their usual forte. Get a name, plan an elimination mission, take the target out quick. In... out… no fuss, and usually a lot of mess.

“What’s the other option?”

Tom hummed and said, “You can attend Hogwarts next year, posing as a student. That way you can, with our help and information, slowly ruin Dumbledore and his minions. Then, once that has been achieved, you can finish your revenge as you see fit. This is obviously a longer plan, more of an infiltration to eventually get your revenge. However, it might be more rewarding for your penchant for vengeance this way.”

He glanced at Frank momentarily before continuing, “I am not going to suggest that either way is better than the other, it is your choice as to which you decide to pursue. I will say that if you do choose the first option, it will be harder to establish yourself in the wizarding world as a Lord. That is, if that is something that you wish to do.”

Harry chuckled to himself. Tom was obviously taking whatever he and Frank talked about in his study to heart if he was being this deliberate about his wording in the conversation.

Remus leaned forward then and interjected a thought. “Cub, your mum and dad wanted you to have the mantle of Lord when you were ready. Not before. If you’re not ready when you reach seventeen that is fine. If you are never ready, that is also fine. Padfoot, Severus and I will support you and help you learn whatever you need to learn for stepping into that role when and if you do decide to take it on.”

Harry scrutinized the four men who had been at the will reading with Frank and him. “I have had a real fuckin’ good life with Frank, and I don’t want anyone to think otherwise.” He eyed Frank again and spoke mostly to him. “I think I want to do this, Frank. My birth parents asked me to take the family name and Lordship in their wills. I kinda want to follow their last request. I mean, I didn’t know them, but they were family technically. And if something ever happened to you or Wade or Logan, I’d fuck someone up in revenge. Just because I didn’t know this family doesn’t mean I shouldn’t fight back for all the shit they went through.”

And, as far as Dumblefuck goes,” Harry begin again with a sneer, “I think I want to make this the most epic fuckin’ sting operation that I’ve ever done.”

Finally, drawing in a bolstering breath, he continued, “This is gonna be big, Frank. Bigger than anything. I’ll have to train for at least a year, just like Tom said while he was talkin’ to us up in his office. Yeah, he went about it all wrong ‘n shit, but he was right about one thing: if I’m gonna do this, it makes sense to stay here to train before I go in and do it.”

Frank sat there, imposing, arms crossed, face devoid of expression, as he listened to Harry explain his desires. Harry jiggled his leg while he waited for Frank to respond to his entreaty.

“Well kid,” he finally relented, “if this is what ya want, then this is what you’ll get.” He turned and focused his piercing gaze on Tom. “You gonna do what you said earlier during our little chat?”

Confused, Harry glanced between Frank and Tom. “What did he say?” He looked again at Tom, who had taken on a very serious look, and back at Frank, who sat there, smugly, with a smirk forming on his mouth.

Harry grabbed Frank's arm in an attempt to gain the man’s attention. "Frank, what did he say??"

Tom inhaled deeply, took his wand in his right hand and raised it in the air. “I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort, do solemnly swear on my magic that I will protect and guard one Harry James Potter as I train him to take on the mantle of Lord of the House of Potter, and also to exact his revenge on his enemies. As long as he is under my care, I will do my best to ensure that no harm should come to his person. I will treat him as an equal and take into consideration all of his desires and concerns before making any decisions regarding his training. At no time will I keep Harry James Potter from his father, Francis ‘Frank’ Castle, and I will not attempt to usurp any training, magical or muggle, that he has received prior to making this decision to move into the wizarding world. So say I, so mote it be.”

A brilliant flash surrounded Tom as he finished speaking. The rest of the occupants of the table gaped at him as he lowered his wand and placed it next to his plate.

“Holy shit…” Sirius gasped. (Look at him using real swear words. Harry was so proud.)

Paling a little, Remus breathed out, "Merlin’s sweaty knickers." (Harry thought that was a pretty bold statement coming from the mild-mannered man, since 'Merlin' seemed to be the 'be-all and end-all' of swear words to wizards.)

Lucius, king of the impassive face mask, had his jaw hanging open. Harry worried that flies might get in. (That is if he thought that there were any flies who would even attempt to infiltrate the stately manor.)

Draco whispered an awed, “Merlin’s beard,” at the sight of his Lord making the vow. He, much like his father, was openly shocked, his gray eyes wide after bearing witness to the promise Tom made. His mother, sitting next to him, had raised a trembling hand to cover her mouth in blatant disbelief.

“My Lord… you just…” Severus stopped his stuttering and just stared.

Tom fixed them all with a warning glare. “Yes, I swore on my magic. And you would do well to consider it also. Mr. Castle reminded me earlier that he is… kindly supporting us in this endeavor with his son. Although it is ultimately Harry’s choice, his father has suggested that we show just how invested we are in aiding the young man in getting his revenge.” He looked down at his wand and stroked one finger down it. “I have no problem swearing to aid this young man. His goals and mine are one and the same. I know I will not fail, and, in turn, lose my magic.” He lifted a brow as he looked out at the group of wizards. “Can you say the same?”

Tom looked over to Harry and said, “I promise you, and your father as well, that I will do my utmost to help you with your revenge, young Harry. I might have implied that I only wanted this for myself earlier, but you and I have much in common in regard to needing to pay that old wizard back. I will admit that I was remiss when I spoke about not using your muggle ways, as your father so informed me. I will be happy to merely add to your current repertoire of fighting techniques. I will also help you learn the spells and behaviors you will need to infiltrate Hogwarts, as to not arise suspicion in Dumbledore or his minions.”

Now Harry was gaping at Tom. “You fuckin’ promised on your magic? Like, you can lose it if you break your promise?”

Tom dipped his head slightly in agreement.

“OH NO FUCKIN’ WAY! I don’t want people to do that shit for me!” He turned to plead with Frank. “Make ‘em stop! Tell them it’s ok. Tell ‘em they don’t have to do this shit for me. It’s way to fuckin’ much. Dad, you don’t know what it’s like to have magic. I can’t even imagine life without it. It would fuckin' kill me,” Harry almost whispered toward the end of his rant. “Make ‘em take it back.”

Frank raised both eyebrows to his hairline as he listened to Harry’s impassioned speech. “Kid, it’s their choice. Just like I always say, people make their own choices and live with the consequences. He just did it to show you how serious he was. And to show me how serious he was about helping you. Honestly, it makes me feel better ‘bout all this magic shit.”

Harry sat back in his chair with a huff. He crossed his arms across his chest and glared petulantly at the table. “Non volevo che lo promettessero, però. Un semplice contratto di contatto come abbiamo fatto con tutti gli altri sarebbe stato abbastanza buono,”⁽¹⁾ he mumbled. (“Didn’t want them to promise that, though. A simple contact contract like we have with all the others would have been good enough.”)

Gripping one of his shoulders to twist Harry around to face him, Frank growled lowly, “No, non lo sarebbe. Questa è una situazione sconosciuta con giocatori sconosciuti. Non entreremo in questo alla cieca. Ho promesso quando ti avrò preso che ti avrei protetto con la mia vita. Se questo significa che queste persone giurano su qualcosa a cui tengono vicino e caro, allora è quello che farò. Affrontarla."⁽¹⁾ (“No, it wouldn’t. This is an unknown situation with unknown players. We will not go into this blindly. I promised when I got you that I would protect you with my life. If that means havin' these people swear on somethin’ they hold near and dear, then that’s what I’ll fuckin’ do. Deal with it.”)

He reached a big hand up and ruffled Harry’s hair before tracing a finger down his scar and flicking him on the nose. “Ora smettila di essere una piccola stronza e facciamo un po 'di pianificazione.”⁽¹⁾ (“Now, stop being a little bitch and let's get some planning done.”)

Draco eyed him suspiciously, “Just how many languages do you speak?”

“More than one, less than fifty?” Harry smirked.

Draco threw his hands in the air and whined in frustration. “Fine! Don’t tell me.”

“Leave pretty boy alone, kid. We need to figure out our next move,” Frank warned as Harry opened his mouth to continue teasing the other boy.

“Stop calling me that!” Draco exclaimed shrilly.

Ignoring Draco’s indignant outcry, Tom pressed forward. “Yes, young Harry, we should figure out what you wish to do. Your father informed me that you spent the school years with this sorcerer, Dr. Strange. If it is agreeable to everyone, the offer is still open for you to stay here for the school year this year. You can be tutored in the manor by myself and my Death Eaters on how to perform spells with a wand. Even though you have no need for one, you will have to put on a show for them when you arrive at Hogwarts. This will include using a wand.” He gestured to Severus, Sirius, Remus and Lucius. “Each one of us will take a part of your training and teach you all we can in the next ten months.”

Here, Tom stopped and looked over at Frank then back at Harry. “I have been informed that you both are usually nomadic during the summers, spending time in different homes and countries depending on your current workload. I believe that it will not be a problem for you to continue with that pattern.”

Harry inhaled a deep breath before glancing inquiringly at Frank. “Where will you be when I'm here trainin’?”

“Here and there. I’ll be here for the first little while to make sure that everyone is… behavin’. But, just like when you’re with Dr. Strange, I’ll be out on missions every once in a while. You know those tights wearin’ assholes can’t find their ass from a hole in the ground sometimes.” He grunted at the thought of dealing with Wade's crazy without the buffer of Harry. “But no matter what, kid, I’ll never be further than a text.”

Okay, Harry could deal with that. It wouldn’t be all that different from a normal year. As he came to terms with what everyone had said, he felt a calm come over him. Harry let a vicious smile form on his face as he realized that a plan was genuinely coming together. He was going to do this. They were going to do this. Watch out Fuckledore, The Scourge is comin’!

Chapter Text

Watch out Fuckledore, The Scourge is comin’!

- August, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Malfoy Manor -

Harry and Frank moved into the manor a couple days after the Great Planning Breakfast of 1996^TM. Frank spent the days prior to the move looking through the whole manor, ensuring that there were no potential dangers or threats.

Lucius and Tom took it all in stride. (Harry figured it might have something to do with the fact that any time someone suggested that Frank calm down, they were met with a gun to the forehead or a knife shoved into their side. But he could be wrong.)

Finally, their rooms were chosen and set with the protections that Frank felt comfortable with. Harry added a few subtle magical protections that Dr. Strange had taught him, drawing runes on the doorways and around the windows. If someone managed to get past all of their traps and shit went sideways, then the whole place would light up and they would be able to kill the fuck out of whoever broke in.

All in all, Harry felt pretty safe there.

Once they had settled in, Tom and Lucius decided it was time for Harry to embrace wizarding fashion.

“You guys… I do not want to wear a dress! Can’t I just stay in my tac pants, boots and black t-shirt? It's kinda my trademark, you know. Like Frank. And where the fuck would I put all my weapons? What about keeping my black leather coat? I mean, that’s kinda like your robes…” Harry groaned from where he had flopped onto one of the couches, flinging his arm over his eyes in defeat.

Lucius observed his tantrum for a moment before sniffing and sweeping out of the room. “A Lord is always dressed befitting his station, Mr. Scourge,” he declared as he walked down the hallway.

“GAAAAaaaahhh! It’s just Scourge!! You guys say this shit on purpose just to fuck with me! Frank!!!!!!”

- Diagon Alley -

He was first taken (read: dragged against his will) to a shop in Diagon Alley called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He didn’t think that they had a specific robe for the occasion of him and Frank blowing up some terrorist base in one of the countries ending in '-istan’⁽¹⁾, but hey… maybe they were open to expanding their merchandise offerings.

Lucius and Tom (in his magical disguise) had promised that he would not be bothered in the store by any gawkers or nosy wizards and witches. They were right. Apparently in order to get some peace and quiet while shopping, all one has to do is rent out the whole fuckin’ store. Fuckin’ rich people, Harry thought as he rolled his eyes.

He stood there, being measured, poked, prodded, and watching as some tape measure floated around his head. He almost wished it would float around his neck and tighten itself into a goddamn noose. Grumbling about the injustice of it all, he watched as Tom and Lucius enjoyed their tea from the couch, commenting on what would look best on the future Lord.

”Blues? Picture him in a dark navy hue. Hmmm, no, I don’t think so. Would a lovely green bring out his eyes? Oh! Silver would be so regal and is well suited to his new station as Heir.”

Oh, how he wished he had brought his favorite knives to put himself out of his own misery... just kill him now. They’d better just stick him in fuckin’ black, is what they'd better do. Goddamn it… he needed to shoot somethin’.

Miyagi
—————

(Scourge) 10:12

fuk my life save me

(Miyagi) 10:14

suck it up kid

(Scourge) 10:14

this is legit torture

(Miyagi) 10:16

youll look pretty in ur new clothes

(Scourge) 10:21

a good dad wuldnt make fun

(Miyagi) 10:22

the best dad points n laughs

(Scourge) 10:23

i shuld hve txtd dead he wuld hve cared :(

(Miyagi) 10:25

doubtful he would have taken pictures n sent em to everyone

(Scourge) 10:26

fuk ur right dam it

(Scourge) 10:26

if i kill myslf dont let dead do my funeral

(Miyagi) 10:29

here lies scourge died of a bitch fit

(Scourge) 10:30

worst...dad...ever

Their next stop was Olivanders Wand Shop. An ancient man stood behind the desk peering curiously at the three of them as they walked through the door. The shop was empty of other people, but was filled with boxes upon boxes stacked high on dusty shelves.

“Ah, Mr. Riddle and guests, welcome back to Olivanders. It has been too long. Let’s see, 13½" long, crafted from yew, and affixed with a phoenix feather core, I believe,” he murmured.

“Mr. Olivander,” Tom dipped his head in greeting.

Looking at Lucius, Olivander nodded slowly. “And our esteemed Lord Malfoy, it seems only yesterday… 18” long, crafted from… elm, if I remember correctly… and I rarely forget, with a dragon heartstring core.”

His glazed stare then settled on Harry. “And who have we here? Welcome, young Mr. Potter.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. They hadn’t even been introduced. How the fuck did this guy know who he was? Was he like that Luna chick?

“Hmm, most curious. Yes, Mr. Potter, most curious indeed. I can see that you do not even need to be here. You have no need for a wand, therefore why is it that you even came?”

Tom interjected smoothly, “We are training him in wizarding magic and thought that he would benefit from practicing with a wand, Mr. Olivander.”

Olivander scrutinized Tom, trying to ascertain if what he said was true. Apparently judging him and finding him truthful, he proceeded to assist Harry with choosing a wand. He had Harry pass his hand over different woods and touch cores that could potentially be put into a custom wand. He measured Harry’s arm, finger to elbow, and hummed low under his breath. Stepping back he shook his head. Instructing them to wait, he retreated to the back of his shop. After a while, he emerged with a long pale box.

“You are a most intriguing young man, Mr. Potter,” Mr. Olivander mused.

“Yes, I’ve heard that before,” Harry snorted. Tom sighed deeply behind him.

“I have never seen a wand quite like this before. Half blackthorn wood and half fir, twisted together around a singed phoenix feather core. One that is the brother to the core of the wand belonging to our young Mr. Riddle here. This wand will be strong for a warrior, Mr. Potter, as the blackthorn provides both strength and defense. Wands made from this wood need to pass through danger or hardship with their owners to become truly bonded. The fir wood comes from the most resilient of trees. This wood favors a wizard who has persevered and overcome. He or she is strong-minded and leans toward an intimidating demeanor.”

Harry snorted under his breath. He was ‘intimidating’ alright.

“Finally, it is the singed phoenix core that gives me the most pause. Although an unblemished phoenix feather is capable of the greatest range of magic, to have a singed feather shows a penchant for stronger, and even more violent magic, yet not necessarily dark arts. Yes, you are a most interesting case, Mr. Potter. It will be intriguing to see where you take this wand… and where this wand takes you.”

Well… that was fuckin’ creepy.

- September, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Malfoy Manor -

Narcissa tried. After her own son left for his year at school, she took one look at the boy, with the streaked mohawk and grubby black clothes with too many weapons strapped to him, and she tried.

Harry felt sorry for her as she took him in hand for the beginning of his lessons on the proper decorum of a Lord in the wizarding world. It wasn’t like he didn’t want this whole plan to work. It wasn't like he didn't want to learn… it was just… there were so many pretentious rules and etiquette faux pas.

Aaaaannnd, he managed to goof almost all of them within the first half hour of trying to learn from her.

She finally got frustrated enough with his lack of any training that she huffed out a short breath and drew her lips into a thin line. (Apparently this was a fierce facial expression for the Malfoy gentry to make when their masks finally cracked.) She went over to a shelf, grabbed a small black book and handed it to him.

“Mr. Scourge,” she started.

“Are we seriously still saying the Mr.??” Harry whined petulantly.

She looked back at him with a blasé expression. “We are in polite society, Mr. Scourge. We will act accordingly. You will act accordingly. This is a book given to every Heir on their sixth birthday, detailing what is expected of them in the coming years. We have lost many years of training with you. However, it is my belief that we can still get you trained enough to qualify as a passable Heir to the House of Potter.”

Harry took the book and sighed. “Fine.”

“Do I need to inform our Lord that you are having difficulties with following instruction?”

Harry was tempted to stick his tongue out at her.

“Or better yet, Mr. Castle?”

Fuck. Dear god, no.

“No, ma’am, I will read this tonight and try my best to get this shit down.”

She stared at him for a moment before responding coolly, “You can start by reducing the amount of muggle swear words you utter in polite company.”

“Fuck, right, sorry… oh shit… ah, god-fucking-dammit! Promise I’ll do better tomorrow,” Harry said as he thumped his head down on the book.

Sooo, manners and etiquette were going well…

Harry looked down at his place setting. There were so many forks. Who needed that many forks for one dinner? Wade and he used to share a giant bowl of spaghetti and sit on the couch, each with a plastic fork, while watching the latest Simpsons episode. Seriously… so many forks.

“Work from the outside in, Mr. Scourge,” Narcissa instructed. (Harry had given up on the 'Mr.' shit. At this point his name was ‘what-the-fuck-ever she wanted to call him’.)

He felt like Beast in Beauty and the Beast. Except here, there was no compromise of him lifting his plate to slurp his porridge. And, although there was magic all around him, the candlesticks had yet to burst into song. (Lame.)

No. No song. No fun Disney story... There was just him, sitting there awkwardly with an appropriately placed napkin, learning the art of polite conversation, while trying to guess what fuckin’ fork to use.

Fuck his life. God, he needed a night out with Wade.

- Lord Voldemort's Office, Malfoy Manor -

Tom and Harry sat in Tom’s office after a day full of lessons on the appropriate ways of acting in the wizarding world. (This was getting to be a bit of an overload, if you asked Harry.) They were discussing his entrance into Hogwarts and the best course of action regarding declaring who he was.

“I believe the best thing would be to go under a pseudonym,” Tom mused as he stared into the fireplace. “Although I would love to see the old goat’s face if you were to introduce yourself as Harry Potter, I think that for your purposes it would be better if you went incognito.”

“Yeah that works for me. I have lots of different names and papers I can use for identification. Frank and I sometimes needed to get a little ‘creative’ with our identities when going across borders,” Harry chuckled.

“How positively enchanting,” he replied, drolly.

“Hey! I like Henry Castiglione the best, my little morbid Mini-Menace. It works with the whole mysterious Italian man of mystery vibe you have going on here. Besides, Frank’ll love that you honor him that way,” came a very familiar voice from atop one of Tom’s shelves.

Before Harry had a chance to say ‘wait’, Tom had shot an avada kedavra in the direction of the voice.

Harry groaned as he watched flailing red arms and legs, then heard the telltale thump of a lifeless body fall to the ground. Fuck, he hoped that they hadn’t found the one thing that could finally kill Wade.

But they hadn’t. Wade popped right back up from his spot on the ground and rubbed his chest.

“Who are you,” Tom growled menacingly.

“Who am I? Don’t worry about me. I’ve already been introduced in this book. Everyone knows who I am. Let’s talk about you!” Wade winked at the Dark Lord as he blatantly checked the man out.

“My, my, Lord Voldieshorts! You look so much better than you do in the books! Did you know that author made you a no-nose? I mean… seriously… who’s gonna get any action without a nose? And going all crazy with those horcrux thingies. Bad juju there, ‘ol Moldyfart. Just bad.”

Wade glanced at the reader before continuing, “Good thing this is a fanfic where all of that nonsense can be completely changed. In this fantasy land we don’t have to deal with stupid crap like canon. Ugh, so many issues with canon. And here, in this fanfic, we can all be friends!” Wade rambled on.

Harry sighed and attempted to introduce him, but was interrupted by Tom.

“What did you call me? No-nose?? Moldyfart??? And just how did you get in here?”

Wade looked at Harry, then at Tom, then out at the reader… “Why, the author wrote me in here, of course. Duh! Not the one who made you a no-nose. The one who made it so that we could all kill people together. Yay murder!”

“The book was lacking for comic relief in this chapter.” Wade snickered, “So, she figured that I should pop in, say a few lines… apparently die. Thanks for that, by the way. Give our little Baby Scourge a hug in support of all he’s doing, then be on my way to wreak havoc elsewhere in the MCU.”

Tom’s jaw was almost hitting his chest by the end of Wade’s speech. Harry just shook his head in defeat.

“Tom, meet Wade. Otherwise known as Deadpool. Decent guy. Little crazy. Great in a fight. And really, really hard to kill.” Harry fixed Wade with a small glare. “Learn to fuckin’ knock, asshole. Not everyone is okay with you just popping in.”

Wade pouted.

Looking down at his wand in confusion and back at Wade, Tom spluttered, “I killed you. I shot the killing curse at you and you died.”

“Yep. It tickled. Don’t worry you worry your pretty little fiendish mind about it. I got better.” He stretched his arms to the side and spun in a circle. “All good. And lookin’ damn good, if I do say so myself.” He ran his hands down his uniform and wiggled his rear in Harry’s direction while winking at Tom through his mask… or what looked like a wink. Harry never really knew.

So, Harry got his new name for when school started the next year and Wade met Tom. (They did not become best of friends.) They did decide to go with Henry Castiglione so that he could still have the nickname Harry. Also, he was fluent in Italian and could pass himself off as an Italian Heir who studied in America then transferred when he found out the relationship with the Potter family.

Harry smiled nostalgically when he thought of the first time that he used the name Castiglione. Back when Frank picked him up. He had come so far since then, and the name had served him well then. He was sure it would serve him well again.

- Harry's Room, Malfoy Manor -

Harry sat in his room with Frank one night after they had been in the manor for almost a month. Frank was asking him about his training and what he had learned. He imparted a small smile Harry’s way when he described learning manners to fit into the wizarding world.

“Frank, did you know that there is a separate spoon and fork for everything??? Not just a package of plastic ware you get from K-Mart? But, like, a different fuckin’ utensil. It’s ridiculous!”

He told of how he and Tom decided on a new name for when he started school. (And how Wade had ‘dropped in’ during the discussion. Frank smirked at Tom’s violent reaction to the Merc with a Mouth.) Tom had already filed the paperwork with Gringotts to show that Harry would have two legal names, just in case anyone checks when he shows up there. As his magical guardian, Tom was able to seal the file on ‘Harry Potter’ and make it so that only Henry Castiglione showed up on any magical records. (Ragnok was a friggin genius.)

Harry showed him the wand he got from the creepy old man in Diagon alley and told Frank about all the Latin that he was learning when he practiced using it.

“It’s hard to explain. I mean, it feels right-ish using this wand. But it also feels right not using it. I guess it will have to be a situational thing. I love my magic, but I prefer to do things the old fashioned way anyway. I’m just glad I have the option of three types of fighting, unlike almost everyone else in the wizarding world. Apparently wandless magic is hard and we both fuckin’ know they aren’t gonna get into a physical fight,” he shrugged.

Frank told him of his missions that he had been going on lately, helping out the X-Men with some issues.

Frank grunted, “It’s goin’ ok. Miss havin’ you at my back. Went out with Patch ‘n Deadpool last week. Only killed Deadpool once. New record, I think.”

Harry grinned at him, “Wow, old man, good for you, being all sweet 'n showing restraint.”

Snorting softly, Frank pushed hard against Harry’s shoulder so he fell back on the bed. “Yeah, I think I might be mellowing with age.”

“Oh yeah, that’s mellow alright,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes and smothering a giggle.

Yeah, training was going okay. Also, he and Frank were doing just fine.

Chapter Text

Yeah, training was going okay. Also, he and Frank were doing just fine.

- October, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Grounds of Malfoy Manor -

Severus stood by Harry as they looked at the bonfire roaring in the back portion of the Malfoy properties. Death Eaters, family members, and even Frank, surrounded the fire, but all were shrouded in dark cloaks that hid their faces from the others.

They were there to celebrate the end of harvest season and the beginning of winter. Severus said it was the time of Samhain. There would be a feast with those who knew Harry and Frank were living at the manor later, however this first gathering brought all of Tom’s followers together no matter what their ranking.

There was more power in numbers, Severus informed Harry. Mother Magic blesses those who gather together and honor her. Death accepts sacrifices more readily when more congregate and gift him with the respect and reverence he is due. If he accepts the sacrifice, he will allow those congregated to visit with the souls of the lost and crossed over.

“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to be doing here, Severus. I get that this is a Halloween celebration, but it’s way weirder than any that I’ve ever seen. There’s even a fake ritual sacrifice over there,” Harry pointed out a figure made of straw being burnt over the bonfire.

Severus looked around at the group of Death Eaters present, each communing in their own way with Mother Magic and Death. All of them trying to reach someone who was lost to the physical world.

“It is Samhain, Harry, not Halloween. Tonight, the boundary between this world and the otherworld is thinned. This means the lost souls can more easily come into our world. It is the one time of year when we are able to talk with those who have passed over the veil. The one time we can ensure that they are happy and at peace,” Severus told Harry quietly.

“Are you going to try to talk to my birth mom?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Always.”

Later that night, after the feast was done and Frank and he had retired to their rooms, Harry rifled through the items that Frank had brought back for him from the states. He grabbed the black journals and the pin, then slowly made his way down the halls of the manor to the room that Severus was staying that evening.

He knocked on the door and a quiet voice beckoned him inside.

Handing Severus the items, Harry ducked his head in embarrassment. “I think that you should be the one to have these. I mean, she meant more to you than anyone. I can tell. I can’t imagine if I lost Frank, and I feel like that’s probably what you might be going through, or somethin’.”

Severus reverently took the books from Harry’s outstretched hand, drawing his fingers down one of the front covers slowly, then thumbing through the first few pages. He sucked in a quick breath as he read the words Harry’s mother had written so many years ago. In his other hand, he fiddled with the small pin in the shape of a lily.

Looking up at Harry from the books, a sheen of tears formed in Severus’ dark eyes. “Thank you, young Harry," his voice rasped emotionally. "Thank you. I will treasure them for the rest of my days.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck and toed the carpet with one of his combat boots. He averted his eyes and mumbled, “Yep, no problem. Uh, I’ll just be going back to my room now. Just, um, enjoy the books, or whatever.”

Frank said that Severus probably needed those things more than Harry ever would. Frank knew that kind of shit. He understood. Frank had experienced loss greater than Harry could ever imagine because he still carried the wedding ring that his wife had worn before her death, stitched into his Kevlar vest. Yes, he understood.

Harry wondered if he would ever understand like that. If he would ever lose someone so that it hurt so much you felt it every day. If he did feel like he needed to carry something like that it would probably be a special weapon from someone… hopefully not Frank.

- November, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Lord Lucius Malfoy's Office, Malfoy Manor -

Lucius droned on, and on, and on about the history of Wizengamot and each of the Houses represented within. He told Harry about the different factions: Light, Gray, and, of course, Dark. He explained, in minute detail, the ins and outs of the voting process, the proper order of events… and every frickin’ name of anyone who had ever walked into the damn building… ever.

Harry’s brain was melting.

“And one of the current issues being brought forth before the Wizengamot today, Mr. Scourge, is the misuse of muggle artifacts by those under the age of 80 years. It is the opinion of the Gray side, as well as the Dark, that this bill should be passed, due to the age limit. The Light side is pushing for a no bill or down vote.”

He paused and looked over to where Harry had his head laying down on the desk. “Are you paying attention, Mr. Scourge? This is very important to the future dealings with muggle items. If we allow the misuse of these items by those who do not understand what they are dealing with, there is no telling what could happen to the future of the wizarding world.”

Harry lifted one arm and gave Lucius a thumbs up, without lifting his forehead from where it rested against the desk. “Yep, payin’ attention over here. Every word you say is riveting. I’m barely hangin’ on to my seat. Can’t fuckin’ contain my excitement.”

Miyagi
—————

(Scourge) 07:12

so booorrrinngg

(Miyagi) 07:12

pay attn this is important

(Scourge) 07:13

i h8 politics

(Miyagi) 07:13

they hate u

(Miyagi) 07:14

quit bein a little bitch about it

(Miyagi) 07:14

u gonna whine some more or study?

(Scourge) 07:15

shit lucy can c me txtng

(Scourge) 07:16

save me

(Miyagi) 07:17

lesson not just karate only

(Miyagi) 07:18

lesson also politics

(Scourge) 07:18

fuk ttyl⁽¹⁾ hes pissed

(Miyagi) 07:19

ill get a body bag

(Scourge) 07:20

not…funny

During one of the studying sessions with Lucius, Tom walked through the room in his ‘going out in public’ magical disguise. He had morphed himself into a man with longer lighter brown hair, pale green eyes and slightly darker skin. They had established the story of him being a distant relative who was voting proxy for the Castiglione family. (Who, much to the chagrin of the Light side, had taken over the Potter seats.) Harry whistled at him and sent him a wink.

“Wowie! Look at you all pretty ‘n shit. Tom you look…” Harry kissed his fingers and sent him a small wave, “positively delicious. Kinda miss the red eyes though.”

Tom turned and shot Harry a spiteful look. “You know, Lucius, I do believe that young master Harry's education has been neglected in certain areas. We would not want him to feel like we were not giving him our best efforts.” One side of his mouth lifted in a cruel smile. “I do believe you should spend the day focusing on the seating chart of the Wizengamot, from origin to present day. That should make up for him spending so much time missing my looks as Lord Voldemort.”

His eyes narrowed as he watched Harry cringe with that suggestion. “Make sure to include those who defected to different sides as the years progressed so that he gets a fully rounded education.”

“Noooooo! Tom, I take it back! I’m sorry! Please… please don’t make me listen to all that shit. Anything but that,” Harry begged from his seat at the desk, clasping his hands together in a desperate plea.

Tom merely smirked and swirled his robes as he stalked out of the room.

“Fine,” Harry grumbled, “fuck you too…”

He learned it, though. Backwards. Forwards. Up, and down. He could name all of the Lords and Ladies by look, by House. And, toward the end of his instruction, he could probably name them by the way they wiped their asses.

He was burnt out on Wizengamot… but he knew about it at least. Not to mention he would be comfortable enough to discuss any issue with any party member he came in contact with.

- Dungeons, Malfoy Manor -

Frank had recently come back from a mission, and Harry was so excited to show him all that he was learning from Sirius and Remus. He dragged Frank down into the dungeons of the manor where there was a volunteer (read: not a volunteer) waiting. The man had been ‘voluntold’ to be Harry’s subject (read: victim) so that Harry could demonstrate all that he had learned.

“Frank! Come on! You’re gonna think this is so fuckin’ cool. I just know it! You know how my magic doesn’t really heal shit? Well, Sirius and Remus have been teachin’ me some healin’ spells that I can use with my wand. I didn’t think they would work at first, ‘cus my wand kept kinda fightin’ me, or it felt like it. But I finally got it down!” Harry gushed as he pulled the serious, imposing mercenary through the dungeon halls.

He pointed at a cell where a pudgy, small, rat-like man hunkered down in the corner. The man had a grubby look about him and let out squeaky whimpers as Harry and Frank advanced into the cell.

“Watch,” Harry said proudly, as he pointed his wand at the man. “Diffindo.”

A small cut appeared on the man’s arm as he cried out in pain. Harry pointed his wand again and stated determinedly, “Episkey.”

They watched as the wound closed, knitting itself back together. Harry turned to Frank in excitement, “See?? So fuckin’ cool! Here, let me try a bigger one…”

The man whimpered louder, cowering further away from Harry in fear. Frank contemplated him impassively as Harry fired off another cutting curse, slicing the man’s arm down to the bone this time.

Frank observed as Harry pointed his wand again toward the man’s arm while whispering ‘episkey’ under his breath. He lifted one brow as he watched blood pouring out of the cut, waiting for Harry’s spell to close the wound. Harry whispered again, louder and more forcefully. He finally waved his wand with an extra flourish and shouted the spell loudly in the room.

But there were no results. The blood still flowed, down the man’s arm and pooled onto the floor.

Harry turned and gave Frank a sheepish look, “I guess I should go get Tom or Remus to fix this.” He glanced at the man in the corner who looked quite like he was going to faint. “Hang on a sec, Peter. Put some pressure on it or somethin’.”

Frank just shook his head and snorted.

- December, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Death Eater Meeting, Malfoy Manor -

Tom finally decided that it was time for Harry to be introduced to the Death Eaters. He would not be introduced as Harry Potter, but instead as his new identity as Henry ‘Harry’ Castiglione.

Harry was intrigued about all the happenings that occurred during meetings with all of Tom’s followers. He had previously passed by the ballroom when there were meetings of the inner circle. However, during those times he was still not allowed to join in due to potential safety issues.

Now, though, everyone dealing with Harry’s training felt secure enough with him being introduced to the Death Eaters as a whole. (While masked.) And then later to the inner circle. (Unmasked.) He was actually pretty excited at the prospect.

Dead
—————

(Scourge) 20:37

going 2 deth eter mtg 2night

(Dead) 20:39

fun! cannibalism… not my jam but enjoy!

(Scourge) 20:39

*sigh* thts ther name fukwad

(Dead) 20:40

sounds ominous

(Dead) 20:41

*insert spooky music here*

(Dead) 20:41

u get a mask finally?

(Scourge) 20:42

its blk n silver

(Scourge) 20:42

coolr thn red

(Dead) 20:43

lies!

(Scourge) 20:46

gtg lucy bitchin bout me gttng set up

(Dead) 20:47

hve fun storming the castle!

(Scourge) 20:48

do u think ill make it?

(Dead) 20:51

it wuld take a miracle

Harry took his place up on the dais next to Tom’s chair (read: extremely ornate throne *eye-roll*) and looked out over the sea of black robes and Death Eater masks. He was surprised at the sheer amount of people in attendance. He had seen the group at Samhain; however, he had not realized that there were so many members. He couldn’t gauge the numbers back in October since on that night they were spread out and it was dark.

He could see the inner circle’s robes, lined with distinct silver instead of pure black, gathered toward the front of the dais. He recognized the forms of Lucius, Severus, Sirius and Remus off to the left. There were a few that he couldn’t recognize by look, but he was sure that by the end of the night they would all be well acquainted.

He scanned the room again, looking for Frank. Harry had told him that he was going to be involved in his first meeting, and Frank… well, he was there to make sure that nothing shady happened to his kid. (“It’s my right as your fuckin’ dad to make sure none of this magic shit causes you any problems. Not to mention joining some weird magic cult. Gonna see this shit for myself.”)

He had cut his mission with Logan short so that he could come observe. He was currently leaning against the wall toward the back of the room, arms crossed, one ankle crossed over the other in a seemingly relaxed pose, as his deadpan stare took in the meeting. (Harry knew he wasn’t relaxed. He was scanning for threats and judging the members.) He stood next to a gruff looking shirtless man who actually resembled a much taller Logan.

The Death Eaters stopped murmuring when Tom entered the room and sat down. (They were probably talking about the presence of Harry, a complete unknown to them, next to their Lord's throne.)

“I will have quiet, and we will begin with reports,” Tom commanded.

One by one he called the Death Eaters forward to report on happenings in the wizarding world, the Wizengamot, and the Ministry. Those who did not have favorable reports were threatened with punishment, and in some cases actually punished with a crucio, if what they said was deemed not worthy of Tom’s time.

“I am both pleased with some of you and disappointed in some, as I am sure that you have gathered.” He looked over at Harry and continued in his silky voice, “The last order of business this evening, before I release the outer circle, is the introduction of a new Death Eater into our ranks. Although he is not marked, he is still one of us. He will be treated with as much respect as I am given. Do not assume by his apparent youth that he is unable to defend himself if one tries to take issue with him.”

Tom gestured regally toward Harry. “He is to be known simply as Scourge. You will not attempt to know him otherwise. I stress that any act taken against Scourge will be seen as a direct act against your Lord.”

He paused again (probably for dramatic effect - fuckin’ drama queen) and intoned, “You are dismissed. Inner circle stay.”

Harry, Frank, the guy not dressed in robes who was standing next to Frank, and the rest of the Death Eater inner circle waited until the outer circle had left. They all sat around a table in the room adjoining the ballroom. Tom sat at the head of the large table with Lucius sat at his right hand. Harry was given the spot to his left. Frank, refusing a seat as was usual whenever they were in a new environment, stood next to Harry’s chair.

Those seated at the table had already removed their masks, with the exception of Harry, and were eyeing him speculatively. Harry supposed that they might just be worried about what the mask would reveal when it was removed.

He snickered to himself… yes, they might just faint at the sight of The Scourge.

Frank observed his slightly shaking shoulders and tapped his boot with his, in question. Harry glanced his way and shrugged, whispering, “羊はとても怖いように見えます”⁽¹⁾ (“The sheep look so scared.”)

Frank grunted, looking at the occupants of the table then back to Harry. “あなたは集中し続けます”⁽¹⁾ (“You stay focused.”)

Harry snorted, “Hai, Mr. Miyagi.”

Chapter Text

Harry snorted, “Hai, Mr. Miyagi.”

- December, 1996 (16 Years Old) -
- Death Eater Inner Circle Meeting, Malfoy Manor -

Before the meeting could get underway, Lucius’ house elf Mipsy popped in with a missive for Tom. He and Lucius stepped away from the table to hold their own conversation while the rest of the Death Eaters sat at the table, waiting for the two to finish and return.

Sirius spent the downtime pulling faces at Harry in an attempt to make him giggle. Remus spent the downtime trying to get Sirius to stop.

Severus, sighing in exasperation, spent the time reviewing some potion texts that he never seemed to be without. (The man seriously needed to get a hobby besides potions.)

Harry, also bored out of his mind waiting for Tom and Lucius to finish up their conversation, sat there fiddling with his knives. Frank no longer held onto his shoulder, and instead had crossed his arms behind his back at a relaxed pose of parade rest.

Pulling out his phone Harry quickly shot a text off before Frank could bitch at him for not paying attention. (Even though there was nothing to pay attention to right then.)

Dead
—————

(Scourge) 21:51

the mtg is lame

(Scourge) 21:51

politics n shit

(Scourge) 21:52

no killng u wuld b bored

(Dead) 21:53

i culd come? brng pointy swrds?? brng patch n claws n hve paaartay

(Scourge) 21:53

nah *snort* heyy gtg sum bitch is sid eyeng me

(Dead) 21:54

yay! fight! hve fun! i <3 bludshed ;)

Before he could say anything to the glaring woman who was sitting at the table, Frank hit him lightly on the head. “Put that shit away ‘n talk to Dead later. You’re a guest at a fuckin’ meeting. Act like it.”

Huffing petulantly, Harry put his phone away in his pants. (He had not given up his tac pants and boots. And they could get his weapons from him when they could pry them from his cold, dead hands. But he did cover the whole thing with a black wizarding robe, in deference to Tom’s wishes. He would have been happier in his leather coat, though. Maybe he could get Lucius to take him to a tailoring shop so that they can get leather wizarding robes made. That would be cool.)

The woman with the curly, frizzy black hair and a wild look in her eyes, finally spoke scornfully in his direction. “Well, well, bitty baby Deff Eater wannabe. You look barely old enough to know how to cast a spell, let alone kill somewone.”

She glared at Frank, who had tensed beside Harry at the onset of her speech. “And a muggle? A muggle?? You dawre disgwace this hallowed mweeting with a muggle? We should spwill his blood and offer it to the Dark Lord just for your insolence.”

Sirius’ head popped up when the woman spoke, and he waved his hand wildly for her to stop talking. Remus let out a long sigh and dropped his head into his hand, accepting the fact that Harry’s brand of carnage would more than likely happen if the woman kept at it.

Severus, usually the most staid and cool of them all, merely glanced at Harry before whispering, “Merlin, no. Don’t threaten the man…” (Harry was kinda proud that he and Frank had been such a great influence on these guys’ vocabularies. He hoped that more wizards and witches brought more swear words into their day to day speech soon. Life goals!)

Harry’s hand went immediately to his knives and he rose fluidly from the chair, instinctually forming battle positions with Frank. Frank tapped his code for ‘careful’ and Harry sent back the hand motion for ‘fuck ‘em up’. Harry figured he was going to win this silent argument with Frank because no one, especially not some random ass wild lookin’ bitch, threatens Frank where he can hear it.

This woman needed to learn some goddamn manners, that’s what she needed. ‘Cus apparently Tom had neglected that part of her education.

And Harry? Well, he had no problem being the one to beat some manners into anyone. (Never let it be said that he was sexist or discriminated against women. He considered that everyone who deserved to get their ass kicked… should.)

“The fuck you say, bitch?” Harry snarled as he heard a deep, defeated sigh and Frank's Kimber cock behind him.

She bristled and stood from her chair with her wand out, pointed in their direction. Tom and Lucius had stopped their conversation in the corner, but before Lucius could intercede in the situation, Tom stopped him with a touch of his hand on Lucius’ arm. (Fuckin’ dictatorial asshole, always wanting to see what happens with his minions.)

“You need to learn some manners, wittle man. I’ll be happy to teach them to you,” she mocked with her baby talk. It was an odd contradiction of things coming out of her mouth, what with the obviously scornful words combined with the use of baby talk. It rubbed Harry the wrong way. (More than that, really. He was pretty squicked by her voice and vocabulary.) He had the feeling that he and this woman would not get along.

Frank snorted behind him and stepped to the side. (He knew that Harry lived for this shit, and he wasn’t going to stand in the way of his kid having a little fun and showing off some skill.) The sound of him uncocking his Kimber filled the room. He gestured with a slight of hand, agreeing that this was Harry’s fight. Giving him a small nod, he gestured for Harry to continue.

Severus tried to interrupt the altercation before it, no doubt, devolved into blood being spilt on Lucius’ pristine marble floors.

“Bellatrix,” he smoothly intervened, “you do not want to do this.” He glanced tentatively at Harry who was primed for combat. “I urge you to reconsider. Remember what Our Lord said.”

“My Lord would nwever let someone lower than a mudblood attend a meeting. Who is this…” she gestured vaguely in Harry and Frank’s direction, “new member that has been allowed to join our estweemed circle of Death Eaters? I have not seen or heard of Scwourge before,” Bellatrix spat.

Lifting a contemptuous brow in her direction, Severus shrugged with a quiet sigh. (Probably not worried about Bellatrix, or even Harry for that matter. He was probably just annoyed that his potion book reading was interrupted.) He glanced between Harry and Bella, then over at Tom, who still watched the interaction with an impassive face and curious red eyes. “It is your funeral, Bellatrix. However, remember that I did caution you against your actions,” he warned.

Harry had calmed his body and centered himself for a fight while the woman and Severus were having their side conversation. He glanced over at Tom and snarled lowly, “Just so you know, Tom, I’m 'a fuck this Elizabeth Frankenstein wannabe bitch up. Speak now if you wanna save her crazy ass.”

Tom looked between Harry and Bellatrix. He imperiously waved his hand in consent, “By all means, Scourge, defend your father’s honor.”

Bellatrix’s lip curled into a cruel semblance of a smile. “Oooh, Scwourge is a mudblood! Come on bitty baby Scwourge. Come pway with the big kids.”

She moved away from the table into an open area and assumed a dueling stance with her wand out. Aiming, she pointed it at Harry’s chest and cried out loudly, “CRUCIO!”

Harry lifted his hand almost lazily and shielded himself, allowing the spell to hit the shield and fall away. He flipped her the bird and stuck his tongue out.

“Gonna need something stronger than that, you insane fuck.” Harry could hear Sirius snort out a laugh while Remus groaned, sounding defeated at the whole situation.

Those who did not know his fighting style gawked while they stayed seated at the table. Bellatrix pursed her lips in frustration and shot off a litany of spells, trying to shake his calm. “CONFRIGO! CRUCIO! REDUCTO!” She moved spastically around the room, continuously attempting to throw his concentration off.

He allowed her to tire herself out, dodging out of the way of her spells while watching behind his shield… flipping his knives in his hands, a picture of calm smugness. (Why yes, he was pretty damn cool… thank you very much.)

Bellatrix was screaming at this point, and all the while Harry chuckled at her antics. “STUPIFY!! DEPRIMO!!!”

Harry watched curiously as the floor near him was blasted open and marble bits went flying through the room. He hopped over the cracks and strengthened his shield.

“Well, that’s just bad etiquette, Bwella. As a guest in Lucy’s home, you shouldn’t put a giant fuckin’ hole in the ground. Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said while shaking his head and sending a superior smirk her way. “You’re obviously being a bad wittle bitch. I’ll have to wub your nose in that later.”

He sent Frank a wink and turned back to pay attention to Bellatrix. Screeching in frustration at the affront she turned her wand to point it at Frank. Harry heard her start her spell before he could even think of shielding his dad. “AVADA KE…”

As he heard the spell leave her lips, he shouted out “Nooooo!”

Harry flung his hand out along with one of his knives. His magic blew her back against the wall with a loud thump, interrupting her cast. The knife connected with her wand wrist, pinning it to the wall with a wet 'schnick', the sharp blade piercing through material, flesh, and bone.

Frank had fluidly drawn his weapons, cocked them, and pointed them at her, but he didn't get a shot off before Harry cast his spell. He stood waiting on high alert as he watched Harry deal with the situation.

Bellatrix’s body slid down from where she had hit the wall. She sat, slumped down against the floor and groaning in agony, her arm pinned to the wall. Blood streaked down the marble where her head had made contact. It dripped out of her nose and the side of her mouth. Her wand had fallen to the floor at her side when the knife made contact.

Harry stalked over to where she was crumpled over in pain and leaned down to glare into her face. She was barely conscious enough to listen to him, but he was fine with that. He didn't really want to listen to her baby talk anyway. He kicked her wand to the middle of the room and pulled her head back by her hair, trying to decide if he wanted to slit her throat or draw the whole thing out. It would, after all, be kind of nice to make her lose the spiteful tongue that sent the awful spell Frank's way.

Before he continued their ‘conversation’, while still holding her head back, he took his other knife and stabbed it deeply into her side under her ribs. He avoided hitting anything vital, instead causing extreme pain to the woman. After all, he did not want to finish their ‘talk’ too soon.

Finally deciding that he wanted to feel the recoil of a gun as he put her out of his misery, he reached in his thigh holster and drew his Glock 19. He cocked it and shoved the barrel up to her sweaty forehead, pressing hard, causing her head to tip back even more so that her crazed eyes met his deadly green ones.

“No one,” he growled out menacingly at her, “and I mean, fuckin’ NO ONE, fucks with Frank. Got it?” He looked over at the table of Death Eaters and repeated himself. “GOT IT??”

Frank strolled over to stand formidably next to Harry, giving his silent support while Harry finished her off.

Pale, shocked faces around the table nodded in response as Harry turned back to Bellabitch.

“You dumb, stupid bitch. You could have just fought me. You should have just fought me. I don’t have any issue takin’ you on. I would have even let you live after you lost. But, when you go and try to fuck with my dad?? Well, let’s just say… do you have any last fuckin’ words? I mean, besides ‘Sorry Frank’ and ‘Sorry Scourge’?”

Tom cleared his throat at this point, pulling Harry’s attention from the mess of a woman who was whimpering and shaking in pain at his feet. Harry kept his gun trained on her forehead while Tom attempted to soothe him.

“Scourge, thank you for your... combat demonstration. If you do not mind leaving one of my best enforcers alive, I would be most appreciative.”

Harry huffed in frustrated disbelief. “This is your fuckin’ best? They seriously need some trainin’, Tom.”

“Yes, well,” Tom sighed and dipped his head in acceptance. “Either way, I would appreciate it if you were to not kill her right now. She is needed for our plans.” He paused and sent a threatening look out at the table. “Also, I do believe that we have all learned that you and your father are considered… off limits. As I had previously mentioned, Scourge and his father are to be treated with respect. They can and will retaliate, as evidenced by the current situation of our dear Bellatrix here.”

Looking over at Narcissa, Tom directed, “Take care of your sister, Lady Malfoy. Get her away from this meeting and heal her. And keep her far away from Scourge for a while, or at least until all parties have calmed down.”

The gruff looking man who was standing next to Frank earlier leaned over to Remus and said, “If that’s what your cub is like, I think he’ll fit in real good with the pack.”

Sirius let out a relieved snort as he watched Bellatrix get led out of the room by Narcissa. “Merlin, pup, come sit down. We’ll all leave Frank alone.”

The rest of the table gave nods and murmurs of assent.

Taking a deep breath, Harry nodded once at Frank, holstered his gun, and went to sit down. He crossed his arms and glared at the table’s occupants.

“Don’t fuck with Frank,” he grumbled.

A man seated further down the table, later introduced as Barty Crouch Jr., chuckled lightly and said, “Noted.”

- Christmas Yule, Malfoy Manor -

Christmas wasn’t celebrated in the manor. Apparently, they celebrated Yule at winter solstice, to honor the rebirth of the ‘Great Horned Hunter God’ or something. (Not Santa. Probably closer to Rudolph, actually.)

Remus explained that it was one of the Sabbats they followed as practicing Wiccans. He described the burning of a Yule log, ‘sacrificing meat’ for a feast and exchanging trinkets with those dear to you.

Harry figured it boiled down to eating and gift giving, just like Christmas, so he was cool with it. But, it was his first Christmas in a long time where Logan and Wade weren’t there, and he felt like he was missing out a little bit.

Pretty boy was back, though, and he brought a friend home with him. If Harry thought that Draco was a pompous, entitled jerk, he had nothing on this Blaise Zabini guy.

Harry learned that Blaise was the son of a woman who had been married seven times over. (No way she wore white each time.) Each husband had mysteriously died, leaving her a distraught (read: much wealthier) widow. Harry assumed that at some point men would catch on and run the fuck away when they saw her comin’. (*Cough* Praying Mantis much? *Cough*)

But, Frank always did say that you get yourself fucked over when you think with your ‘little head’.

Apparently, Harry’s status as a ‘mudblood’ was an issue with this Blaise kid as well. Harry would shrug when the boy said things in passing, obviously thinking that it would offend him. Stupid kid, Harry didn’t care what people in this world called him.

Instead, when these things were said he would just roll his eyes at Blaise. Blood was blood. It all flowed out on the floor after someone's neck had been slit no matter what ‘purity’ it was, just the same as everyone else.

“And this is our guest, Henry Castiglione, Heir to the House of Castiglione,” Draco said as he introduced Harry to Blaise. “He is Italian, but he was raised in America. We are not holding that against him, however. He has just learned of his connection with the House of Potter and his responsibilities here in Britain, so he has come here to learn our ways. Father is magnanimously aiding the Dark Lord with his education.”

Blaise sniffed in Harry’s direction and looked down his nose at him. “You do not look like Italian nobility,” he scoffed.

Harry shot him a toothy grin. “And you don’t look like an asshole, but look, here we are!” He looked playfully at Draco, waggled his eyebrows and chuckled. “Congratulations, pretty boy, you’ve found someone with a stick shoved further up his ass than you. Boy, you guys at that school must be some kinda fuckin’ pieces of work. I can’t wait to come hang out with you sheltered fucks.”

Blaise bristled and coolly intoned, “I am not sheltered. You should meet my mother. She has not allowed me to be sheltered or mollycoddled.”

Whistling lowly, Harry snickered and ran his tongue across his top teeth. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard aallll about your mother, sounds like my kinda gal. I bet we’d get along reeeaaalll good.”

The sounds of Harry cackling filled the halls as he ran away from a thunderous Blaise who was bent on retribution for the slight against his mother. Yep, Harry was going to have so much fun at Hogwarts.

Christmas turned out okay, though. Harry gave small gifts to the five men who were helping him the most with his wizarding education. He gave Lucius some old book on the origins of Wizengamot and an ‘I Love Lucy’ pin. (The meaning of the pin was lost on him, but Frank and Sirius got it… so… worth it!)

He gave Sirius a cache of joke gifts from Spencer Gifts that he had Wade send him. Sirius spent the morning attempting to get Severus to sit on a whoopee cushion. Remus just shook his head fondly and rolled his eyes.

He found some potions stuff for Severus and some books for Remus.

For Tom, he got a mug that said ‘World’s Greatest Dictator’. It was immediately filled with tea and used for the rest of the Yule breakfast. Harry smirked as Tom drank from it without irony.

He sent Wade and Logan weird candy that he found in the wizarding candy shop so that they could experience what a dirt flavored jelly bean tasted like, or a snot one. (Harry did not want to know which one Wade liked the best.)

And, for Frank, he used his magic to enchant a knife to never need sharpening and always come back to its sheath if the distance between the knife and the sheath became too great. Frank ruffled his hair and gruffly said thanks.

Harry got some cool shit as well.

Tom and Lucius had gotten together and gifted him with something that he had been wanting since he came into this crazy ass world… a leather wizard’s cloak. (Ok, ‘dragonhide’… or whatever. It looked like leather.) “It is made of the best Hebridean Black dragon scale armor. It will not only protect you as you go into combat, but it is also considered well within wizarding fashion.” Harry rolled his eyes at the statement regarding fashion, but he felt a small part inside of his chest warm at the gesture.

Sirius and Remus gifted him with a book, and Severus gave him a small crystal phial. Harry did the polite thing and expressed his gratitude over the seemingly boring gift. He smiled and nodded until he actually read the title: Finding Your Inner Animagi: A Guide for Every Wizard to Discover Their Animagus Form. He looked at them in awe as they smiled knowingly. Sirius sent him a smirk and Remus sent him a small nod. Severus rolled his eyes and muttered that he better not be anything like his father was.

“Holy Shit, guys… this will be awesome!”

But the very best of all… the most wonderful gift of the day… came from Frank. (Of course his dad would know him best.) Harry was presented with a gray metal box with a silver inlay on the top inscribed ‘Scourge’. Opening the latch, he saw the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. There, resting on black velvet, were two Smith & Wesson M&P45s with the name ‘Scourge’ engraved on the barrels. His breath caught in his throat and he stared at the man he called dad.

“Figured it was time for you to get your own signature weapons, kid. Can’t keep goin’ between Glocks, Kimbers, ‘n whatever else I have around. So, there ya have it. Merry Christmas.”

Harry just had to tackle him in a huge hug. There just weren’t words in any language to express the awesomeness that was Frank. Yep, Christmas Yule was awesome.

Chapter Text

Yep, Christmas Yule was awesome.

- February, 1997 (16 Years Old) -
- Potions Lab, Malfoy Manor -

Learning to become an Animagus was apparently an ordeal.⁽¹⁾ Harry couldn’t believe that his biological father and the rest of the Marauders taught themselves without any help except for what they read in books! And they had to do it in secret! He didn’t think that he would have even gotten this far if he didn’t have Sirius and Remus helping him along with the transformation. Severus was staying out of it, often mumbling about dunderheads who got themselves into too much trouble during the school year.

Ok, so he kinda sucked at staying out of it, really. He would sometimes delicately push Harry in the right direction when he got stuck on something. Harry would feel Severus glance over his shoulder as he read something, then the dour man would mutter about how interesting the paragraph on page 43 was regarding the discovery of one’s inner animal. Or, there were times when Severus would slide Harry a note at breakfast with the title of a book on the ability to meditate and center oneself. So one could commune with their wilder side.

Yeah, he was staying out of it alright. (And Harry was very happy for his help on the down low. He would never betray Severus’ trust by letting the others know of the stealthy help he was getting.)

The more Harry learned about the three men, the more he realized that even though Severus was demanding, grumpy, aloof and potentially the crabbiest person that Harry had ever met… he was also subtly cool in a lot of other ways. After hearing all about his backstory with Harry’s birth mother and his younger years, Harry understood why he outwardly portrayed that sort of persona. He had built walls around himself so that no one could penetrate them and hurt him again. It wasn’t the way that Harry went about things. (He was more of a ‘kill ‘em all and then no one can hurt you’ kind of guy.) But he could see how one might react to the world by sequestering their true self behind impenetrable walls, like Severus had.

But Severus looked out for Harry. Whether as a personal promise made to his birth mom or as a personal vendetta against the man who had caused the death of his best friend, he made it his mission to guarantee that Harry had a pristine and well-rounded education for when he entered Hogwarts. He made sure that the potions they made together were perfect, so that when Harry finally did go to school he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. As they worked together, he ensured that Harry knew all the plants used, and the proper way to use a knife.

“Really, Sev? I know how to use a knife. You know I know how to use a knife. In fact, if I remember a couple Death Eater meetings ago, I’m pretty sure that you’ve been witness to my particular brand of knife skills,” Harry drawled at him while they were working in the potions lab.

Severus fixed him with a slow look and intoned, “Harry, not a killing knife… a potions knife.”

“Ah, yes…” Harry coughed faintly into his hand. “Well, by all means, let’s kill some plants then!”

Sighing in defeat, Severus handed him the potions knife by the handle and pointed to the Shrivelfig on the board. “Let us begin working on the Shrinking Solution potion. Can you remind me where the Shrivelfig is found and when it is most potent?”

Harry took the knife and began his cuts while reciting all he knew about the plant. “The Shrivelfig is a deciduous plant that sheds its leaves in autumn. The purple fluid needed for the potion comes from the inside of the fruit and is best used within one month of picking. However, it can be put under stasis so that the fluid stays potent enough for a decent potion. The fluid is also used in the Elixir to Induce Euphoria.”⁽²⁾

Severus’ mouth curled into a slight smile. “Yes, very good Harry.”

- March, 1997 (16 Years Old) -
- Malfoy Manor -

Harry’s mouth tasted like shit. He had been holding a Mandrake leaf in it for almost the whole month that was required before he could continue on with the change. It was nearing the next full moon, and he was just about over it. EVERYTHING tasted like ass. He just wanted to be able to have a bite of food that didn’t have the aftertaste of rotting foliage. He had his crystal phial from Severus ready to spit the offending leaf into when the time came. And, he had already placed one of his undyed black hairs inside.

Sirius and Remus made sure to tell him that he should not use one of the silver ones, as they had no idea what could potentially happen with the change. Harry thought it might be cool to make whatever he turned into a silver and black streaked animal, but they were adamant that he should not attempt it. So, he went with the black hair. (Begrudgingly.)

Frank was no help when Harry described the issue of the leaf in his mouth. He would snort and say that Harry was finally getting his vegetable intake. At least he wasn’t being a dick and trying to get Harry to accidentally swallow it. No, that was more of a Wade type of move.

Dead
—————

(Scourge) 11:33

going 2 lunch fuk ths leaf

(Scourge) 11:34

wish i culd spit it out

(Dead) 11:36

i KNEW u spit n didnt swallw

(Scourge) 11:37

fuk…u…

(Dead) 11:38

nope i hve stndrds must swallw wit me

(Scourge) 11:41

I h8 u going 2 eat now

(Dead) 11:44

thnk of me fndly

(Scourge) 11:45

only thnkng of ways 2 kill u

(Dead) 11:45

*pouts*

(Scourge) 11:48

ttyl

(Dead) 11:51

eat ur vegetables!

- April, 1997 (16 Years Old) -
- Lightning Storm, Malfoy Manor Back Property -

Harry felt the storm brewing. It was slowly approaching the wooded area on the edge of the Malfoy property. He had his wand pointed at his heart, ready to say the words that Sirius and Remus had beat into his brain. His phial of grossness was hidden away where he ‘hadn’t thought of it at all’ since he added the necessary dew and the chrysalis of a Death’s-head Hawk Moth. (That was a bitch to get ahold of. Thank fuck that Severus was helping him out with the ingredients he needed to obtain.)

He had been chanting ‘Amato Animo Animato Animagus’ every sunrise and sunset since he had finished filling and hiding the phial, while he waited for an electrical storm to finally come. He wasn’t the most patient of people and waiting for this was killing him.

But he wanted it. And, like Frank always taught him, if he wanted something, he needed to work for it… to go out and get it.

So, here he stood, alone at the edge of the woods… like an asshole, waiting for lightning to strike so that he could finish with his transformation. Sirius and Remus were waiting for him closer to the manor. They did not want to be close to him during the change, for spell reasons, but they did want to be close enough in case things went tits up.

The lightning finally hit and Harry’s body went rigid with anticipation for the final actions and spell incantation. He hurried over to where his phial was hidden and grabbed it. Placing his wand tip against his heart he again spoke clearly, “Amato Animo Animato Animagus.” He tipped the phial of blood-red potion back and drank it all in one gulp, shuddering at the horrible taste.

Pain racked through his body. He dropped his wand with the sheer weight of the agony. A form of an animal started to take shape in his mind. It was fuzzy at first, but the longer he stood there and focused on it… clearing his mind to think on only the shape… it took a clearer and purer form.

As the animal brought itself to the front of his mind, Harry felt his body transforming… painfully and awkwardly. (Sirius had said that the first time would hurt a little - a little???) The two wizards waiting for his transformation to be complete had made sure that his clothes were spelled to transfigure with him so that he wasn’t running around stark naked when he transformed back. (Look at them bein’ all smart and plannin’ and shit.)

Once the transformation was complete, Harry was lower to the ground and noticed that he was on three black paws and one streaked with silver. (Yay! That was like some Winter Soldier shit!) He shook his head and body in excitement, fur rippling with his movements.

It had worked! He was officially an Animagus! He couldn’t wait to show Sirius and Remus. Drawing in a deep breath, senses heightened with his change, he ran, and ran… and ran. He ran until he reached the entrance to the manor where they stood, waiting impatiently for him.

Remus and Sirius took one look at his dark wolf form and grinned. Remus reached out tentatively and stroked his hand down Harry’s fur. “Merlin, cub, you’re beautiful. Your dad would have been so proud of you. And, now you’ll fit in so well with the pack.”

Sirius smirked, “Well, pup, welcome to the club. Now you really are a Marauder.”

- May, 1997 (16 Years Old) -
- Death Eater Inner Circle Meeting, Malfoy Manor -

Yet another mind-numbing inner circle meeting was droning on as Harry sat staring off into space. He was planning his next prank on Sirius, ignoring the nervous looks that some of the other Death Eaters were sending his way. Apparently not everyone had forgotten the fact he had bashed Bellatrix’s head against the wall with the wave of his hand and had stabbed her. (In his defense, it was only a slight stabbing.)

He shrugged internally, it’s not like he was crazy or anything. She got better. In fact, she was currently glaring off and on in his direction. He didn't care, though. She could glare all she wanted. They all could. As long as no one fucked with Frank, he was cool with it. But if they tried anything, well he'd just have to 'slightly stab' someone again.

As Tom continued with his plans and instructions on what would happen in the Ministry that week, Harry felt a tickle at the bottom of his leg. He jerked in surprise and glanced around, looking for the perpetrator. Frank was missing from this meeting, having taken a mission with the X-Guys, so it wasn't him trying to get Harry's attention.

Harry shook his leg and glanced down under the table in an attempt to see what was happening. Examining the floor beneath his chair, his green eyes were met with the serpentine gaze of Tom’s familiar, Nagini.

“Go away!” Harry whispered harshly at the snake.

Tom paused his speech and lifted an inquisitive brow in Harry’s direction. He sent Tom a sheepish smile and shrugged, waving at the man that all was well and to continue with his speech.

Nagini, however, did not stop. Instead she kept crawling up his pants leg, trying to wrap around Harry’s body. He shoved at her, with no luck.

“Fuckin’ get off!” He grunted, attempting to wiggle in his chair and shake her off of his leg.

“Do you need assistance, Scourge?” Tom asked as he watched Harry wriggling in his chair.

“Deine perverse Schlange versucht mich zu belästigen.”⁽³⁾ Harry groused, trying again to get Nagini to stop her ascent up his body. (“Your perverted snake is trying to molest me.”)

Tom snorted. “Sie liebt dich."⁽³⁾(“She loves you.”)

Harry gaped at him. “Du sprichst Deutsch?"⁽³⁾ (“You speak German?”)

Nodding Tom said, “Ja.”

He pointed at the snake, who had wrapped herself around Harry’s midsection at this point, and instructed, “Pass jetzt auf deine neue Freundin auf."⁽³⁾ (“Yes.”; “Now pay attention to your new girlfriend.”)

“Is everything alright, My Lord?” Severus asked, looking between the two of them with concern.

Tom nodded. “Yes, Scourge is just complaining that I am not keeping my snake out of his pants.”

Sirius coughed on a snort and Remus turned bright red in embarrassment at his Lord’s phrasing. Severus’ jaw opened in surprise while Harry (and Nagini) fell off his chair in a fit of giggles.

Tom’s cheeks held a slight blush as he rolled his eyes at their antics. “I did not mean it that way… as you well know. Let us maintain some decorum and continue with the meeting.”

- June, 1997 (16 Years Old) -
- Classified Undisclosed Locations -

Frank and Harry left the manor when the Hogwarts school year ended. He felt like he was ready to attend school the next year, what with all of his new education and proper manners befitting an Italian noble. He was finally ready to start mounting his revenge on Dumbledore and his group of assholes.

But first… he needed a vacation.

Luckily for him, Frank’s idea of a vacation involved terrorist hunts, mob stings, bullets, interrogations and all the fun things that he had been missing while he was sequestered at the manor learning about the wizarding world. Wade came along for some of their missions, but mostly it was just Frank and Harry… destroying and eradicating the criminal element as they were prone to do.

Harry was in heaven. His new weapons got a workout, and Frank even gifted him with an Armalite AR-50, a new long range sniper rifle that had just come out that year.

Frank was the best fuckin’ dad ever.

They spent their free time moving through countries and sampling shitty street food. (Well, Frank said it was shitty. Most of it was actually really good, in Harry’s opinion.) Neither of them cared that they lived out of duffle bags and slept on mats in barely secure hide-outs. It was everything Harry loved about life and more. He was almost sad that he had to go back at the end of the summer and start his revenge plot.

Almost…

- July 31^st, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Harry's Birthday Celebration Surprise Location -

Harry had learned the theory of apparition, but on his seventeenth birthday Tom and Lucius took him to actually get his license. They also had him register his Animagus form, just in case he ran into issues later on with someone complaining that he was illegal. Although all of these things were registered under his name Henry Castiglione, they also transferred to Harry Potter due to the fact that according to Gringotts they were one and the same.

Harry got his rings for his Lordship and officially took on the mantle as Lord of the House of Potter. However, thanks again to the nifty ‘paperwork shuffle’ of Gringotts, he showed up as Lord of the House of Castiglione instead. (Harry was pretty sure that Ragnok was only helping them this much because of all the shit that the bank had messed up in the beginning. But who was he to complain? It was super helpful, and Ragnok was doing them a solid.)

Frank had Logan and Wade come out for Harry’s actual birthday at the Manor. It was kind of funny to watch Fenrir and Logan circle each other, that was until Logan produced a beer (out of fuckin’ nowhere) and offered it to the giant alpha werewolf. After that, they were thick as thieves.

The evening of his birthday Harry was given the best present that he could have ever imagined…

“Hold on, Mr. Scourge, we are going to side-along apparate you, your father, and your guests to the location of your birthday celebration,” Lucius said as he tied a blindfold around his head.

Harry tensed instinctively as the blindfold was placed, but he knew that Frank had already approved this field trip. Besides, there were more guns, swords, claws, and other pointy-stabbey-murderey things on their side than on the wizards’ side anyway. They would be fine.

Snickering, he turned to where he knew Lucius was standing and drawled, “Well, well, well, Lucy… I had no idea you were into the kinky shit. We could have been having so much fun this whole time.”

Wade snorted and Frank just grunted out a “Shut up, kid.”

Lucius sniffed disdainfully and gripped Harry’s shoulder (a little too tightly) and they were on their way.

They landed on a street, that much he could tell, but it was quiet. Too quiet. He recognized the feel of the place in his bones. He felt an involuntary shiver crawl up his spine as he reached up and pulled off the blindfold, only to be faced with the house of his nightmares…

Number 4 Privet Drive.

“The fuck we doin’ here?” Harry growled, instantly on edge.

Frank placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him, while Tom said smoothly, “Well, young Scourge, we might have found out that this house is in between tenants right now. And, as our gift to you, we might have thought you would want some… payback.”

Harry glanced questioningly at Frank who nodded imperceptibly. “Let off some steam, kid.”

He looked at the house that he hadn’t been back to since that fateful night in 1987, back when Frank had saved him from everything, and his mouth formed an evil grin.

“Stand the fuck back,” he warned lowly.

Harry gathered his magic. He felt it swirling around him, drawing it in from the energy in the air. He brought his hands together and felt the fire spark between his palms. Slowly pulling his hands apart and spreading his fingers, he allowed the fireball to grow. He focused all his anger and rage into the flame. He fed it with all his vengeful thoughts and spite toward all that the house represented.

The others watched in awe as the young wizard harnessed the power of fire and thrust it away from his body in a pillar of flame. The sheer intensity of the blaze hit Number 4 dead on and immediately set the house alight.

As the house burned, Harry quietly addressed the men who meant so much to him in his life. “Seriously, fuck this place. Best thing that could ever happen to that shitty ass house. Oh, and happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”

Turning to walk away from the blaze, Wade stopped him and took a photo so that Harry could remember the occasion. “It's like one of those movie moments, Baby Scourge. After all, it’s not every day that my Mini Menacing Mercenary gets to burn down the home of his abusers. We need to document this for posterity.” He sniffed and pretended to wipe away a tear from his mask, “I’m so proud.”

Frank sighed at Wade’s antics. “Let’s get out of here before the fire engines come.”

Harry shot them all a toothy grin.

Best... birthday... ever!

Chapter Text

Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin (First Class), Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and NO LONGER Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot was not having a good year. He had felt a change coming when he was notified by Gringotts that his accounts were being audited in early August of 1996.

Now, he had not been worried about the audit, of course. He had nothing to hide. He was merely utilizing his resources as he saw fit. And he saw fit to utilize the resources provided by one missing Harry James Potter. The boy’s trust vaults had allowed for him to enjoy a better way of life and provide for those who worked tirelessly for the greater good. He knew he was doing the Light’s work. He knew that Mother Magic would look upon his actions and bless him accordingly.

No, he was not worried at all.

Well, maybe a little.

He had to wonder why the audit was being performed now, of all times. Why did they wait so long to look into his (obviously above board) financial practices?

It was only 11 months and 27 days until he was able to completely take over the Potter accounts. He had spent months (read: about 30 minutes panicking about what to do) looking for Harry James Potter. He had tried every (read: none, really) avenue in order to find him. He had contacted everyone he knew. (Nope. He mostly sat there eating his lemon drops and waiting patiently while he raked the money in from Harry’s trust vault.)

He had tried.

What more did the wizarding world and Gringotts expect him to do? If the boy was not found by his 17^th birthday, he would be listed as officially dead and Albus would be able to take over everything legally. (Read: illegally, since he stole the guardianship… the whole thing was semantics, really. No one need worry their pretty little heads about that.)

He knew the boy had not been found. He knew it. Severus, his most trusted spy, would have let him know immediately if Harry was captured or found by Voldemort.

His boy Severus could always be counted on. He had made sure of that with a little subtle guilt and pressure regarding the loss of his best friend Lily. Although, Albus did not really consider it much of a loss since the fickle woman and her husband were trying to defect from the greater good. Luckily for him, he was able to figure it out and save any potential kerfuffle with the Light side by showing them the error of their ways. He was even able to spin little Harry’s story by giving him the smallest little curse scar.

Yes, that prophecy idea was a stroke of genius. Too bad the boy had to up and disappear. He didn’t even stick around end up being raised as the child of prophecy to take on Voldemort in an epic final battle. (Selfish child.) Albus would just have to make sure that his substitute savior, Neville, was ready. If only Harry had stayed in the wizarding world, Albus sighed to himself, this would all be so much easier.

It was so frustrating when people ruined his perfect plans.

Ah, well, it was all no matter. The audit came up clean (although troubling) and he still received his regular stipend from the Potter trust vaults.

Another issue that he had not expected to arise was a distant Potter relative showing their face in Wizengamot. He couldn’t be a legitimate relative. Albus would know. He had researched the entire Potter family before he killed discovered them dead. But here this man was, showing up in Wizengamot, claiming the proxy vote for the Potter seats as a relative.

When he arrived on scene, he looked at Albus like he was familiar. Like Albus should know him, almost like they already knew each other. Albus was not one for omens, as he had ignored every one that he came across... poor Grindelwald... but he felt that this man showing up might be a bad omen for what was to come in the wizarding world. It was like he knew too much for having just made his way to Britain. He was able to talk just a little too smoothly for Albus' tastes. If Albus did not watch him closely, he had a feeling that this new man would be the cause of many sleepless nights.

When Albus immediately requested the information regarding his legitimacy from Gringotts, he was presented with signed parchments as proof.

Sig. Franco T. Castiglione
Proxy Vote For: Henry Julio Castiglione, Heir to the House of Castiglione
Affiliated Houses:

1. House of Potter (16 Votes)
2. House of Castiglione (1 Cadet Vote)

Voting Faction: Gray/Dark

Gray or DARK!!! In one moment Albus had just lost the majority vote in Wizengamot. This new voter had swung the votes from the Light side to the Gray/Dark side. He just knew that Lucius or Voldemort was behind this! He could tell by the way that Lucius smirked at him when the title of Chief Warlock was taken from him and passed on to the most evil and dark Lord Malfoy. And worst of all, he was a Slytherin! Oh, this would not do.

Sig. Castiglione backed Lucius Malfoy on everything that was brought forward. He helped push through laws that relaxed the restrictions on werewolves and other Dark creatures that could endanger their children! Were these wizards not thinking about the children?? Albus was only thinking of those young wizards and witches in his care. He wanted nothing more than to usher the next generation into the light so that they might embrace good and true magic. (Read: He wanted sheep.)

And, just who was this Heir who would take on the Lordship? According to Gringotts, this Heir would take on the Lordship to the House of Castiglione and Potter on his 17^th birthday. Albus needed to find this child immediately and help nurture him into the right way of life. He needed to see that being associated with Gray and Dark magic is not for the greater good.

He needed to find Heir Castiglione… soon. Before he took a deep look into the Potter accounts. (Not that anything illegal or wrong had been done at all regarding those accounts. No, not at all.) He also needed to find out if the Heir was legitimately going to take on the accounts because the trust was going to run out soon. And Albus, well he needed that money because he had quite a few people to take care of… for the greater good, of course.

All this stress was putting a major dent in his lemon drop stores.

Albus was tired of listening to Minerva whine about Harry Potter. He was just over it.

“Albus, his name is still in the book. I know that he is out there. I know that he is just waiting for us to come and save him from whatever horrible life he has been living outside of the wizarding world. We should have been the ones to guide him. Oh, Albus, I can just feel it. Has Severus even been looking?”

Albus sighed and looked condescendingly over his half-moon glasses at Minerva. “Minerva. It has been over nine years. We must accept that the young Potter boy is no longer alive.”

Minerva pointed at the book of names and blustered shrilly, “His name is still written in there! Names only vanish upon death! He is alive!”

“Calm yourself, Minerva. Have a lemon drop,” Albus soothed in his grandfatherly way as he walked over to the book. He ran his hand down the names and came across ‘Harry James Potter’, still in bold print. He tapped his finger on the name and looked at Minerva, “Yes, I suppose we must admit he is still alive, however we must also assume that wherever he is, he does not want to be here.”

As he flipped through the pages of the book, his eyes alighted on a new name… ‘Henry Julio Castiglione’. His heart clenched in excitement… the Heir was coming to Hogwarts! He would be able to mold him into a better, Lighter wizard. None of this Gray/Dark magic anymore. No, he would vet the boy’s friends, suggest his house affiliation and even pressure him to befriend the newest savior. Oh, wizarding world just wait! Albus Dumbledore might have saved the best for the second act.

The anniversary of Harry Potter’s birthday brought about some very disturbing news to Albus Dumbledore. Sitting in his office, minding his own business (read: trying to find more orphans whose money he could steal since he wasn’t going to be able to get into Harry Potter’s vaults after that day), Albus was startled when Alastor Moody’s face popped into his floo. The aging auror’s magical eye circled the office before coming to rest on the headmaster.

“Albus, we’ve got a problem,” he brusquely stated. "Let me through."

Albus sighed, he did not need more issues this year. What with losing his place in Wizengamot, the stopping of his (read: Harry Potter’s) trust vault withdrawals, the fact that Harry Potter was still missing and Severus and Minerva still brought it up like it was his fault, Tom going quiet the whole year, Lucius Malfoy's smug face when he took over as Chief Warlock, this new Sig. Castiglione on the scene causing waves, the unknown player being seen around Diagon Alley (that none of his contacts had been able to get any information on), and the new Dark/Gray Lord that he needed to mold and bring to the light who would be coming to Hogwarts, he was swamped. He did not need any more problems.

Biting back an annoyed response, he stood back from the floo and allowed Alastor to step through. “What is it my dear man. I assure you, whatever it is, we can work together to fix it. The Order has seen many things over the past two wars, and we are ready to fight any enemy… to take on any Dark wizard… to overcome…”

“Albus, shut yer yap. This doesn’t have anything to do with that muck. It has to do with Harry Potter,” Alastor interrupted. (A fine speech, too. Albus would have to remind him that a good speech should never be interrupted. Especially not his.)

“Ah, yes, my dear fellow. What about the Harry Potter boy?”

Alastor shook his head, making his eye move even more crazily around the room. (It looked a bit disturbing, but Albus conceded that the man was a good auror and decent Order of the Phoenix member, so concessions must be made for his odd behavior and strange looks.)

“It’s not about him, necessarily, it’s about the Dursleys. His family.”

Albus furrowed his brow in thought. He thought that those muggles had all died back in 1987. He knew he had cancelled their stipend back then. Did some of them escape? Did they take the boy? Oh dear, this had potential to be very bad indeed.

Affecting his most grandfatherly air, he looked at Alastor with a concerned twinkle in his eye, pushing forth a subtle ‘trust me’ bit of magic. “What happened, my good man?”

Alastor cocked one eyebrow. “That Merlin damned suggestive magic doesn’t work on me, Albus. You know that. Anyways, the aurors were just informed of a massive house fire on the street where Harry Potter grew up. Arabella Figg alerted them that muggle fire workers were there attempting to put out a huge blaze at Number 4 Privet Drive. But, by the time they had gotten there it was too late. The house was merely matchsticks holding up caved in sides. The whole thing had burnt to a crisp.”

Pausing to adjust his stance while gripping his cane, Alastor grunted. “The odd thing about it, though, is that nothing else in the surrounding area was burnt. The garden was still pristine. The houses next door were unharmed. It was as if a giant fireball came from the heavens and destroyed only the house. Very strange Albus, very strange indeed.”

Albus sat back in his chair behind his desk and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. “Just that house?”

Alastor nodded and thumped his cane on the floor. “Seems a bit odd, on the seventeenth birthday of our Savior and all, that his muggle relatives’ house would get destroyed.”

Humming in thought (read: panicking for real), Albus gave a small nod of his head. “This is most disturbing. I can only believe that this is the work of magic of the darkest kind. We must look into this, Alastor. We must find out who did this.”

“We must maintain constant vigilance, Albus. It seems that the world might be changing. I can feel it in my bones.” He nodded at Albus and turned to the floo to leave.

Yes, Albus had had quite enough of this year. He was ready for the school year to begin again. He was ready for the halls to be filled with innocent children that he could shape and guide. (And leech some of their magic from. But no one needed bother themselves with that little nugget of truth.)

He looked down at his bowl of lemon drops as he considered what Alastor had told him. There were just too many strange occurrences surrounding the Potter name this year. He had better keep an eye out as this year progressed, especially with a new Lord taking over the House of Potter.

Yes, he thought as he popped yet another lemon drop into his mouth, he must remain vigilant.

Chapter Text

Best… birthday… ever!

- August 31^st, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Harry’s Rooms, Malfoy Manor -

“Am I ready for this?” Harry asked Frank as he packed his trunk.

Holy shit, Harry thought to himself, a duffle bag was just so much easier and more convenient to pack. Usually, he just threw in a change of clothes, some weapons and a toothbrush. (If he was feeling sexy.)

But no… now he had: potion ingredients, school clothes, fuckin’ robes, books for classes, his spare guns and knives that he wasn’t carrying on his person, his leather cloak, extra tac pants, his second favorite boots, some MREs (just in case), a new katana from Wade (Yay! Love Wade!), some books on dark arts from Tom (for light reading), a few pranks from Sirius (seriously?), and a book on the inner-workings of the new laws coming before Wizengamot from Lucy. (“Just in case you get some time to relax and review them, Mr. Scourge.” Yeah, ok Lucy… like that’s gonna happen.)

At least he could shrink the damn thing down and put it in his pocket. (He had been a bit worried about the effects of magic shrinking on his weapons, but they seemed just fine when he practiced on a shitty test sidearm earlier.)

Frank glanced at him from where he sat, staring into the fire. “I dunno, kid, are you?”

Harry grumbled under his breath, “You’re no help. You’re supposed to help your child. I’m going into this trying to pretend to be some pretty boy pompous ass Lord of some shit… which I’m totally not… no matter what they tried to bang into my head this year. And I’m just wiggin’ out a bit.” He chewed his bottom lip as he double and triple checked his gear.

Standing up from his chair and walking over to where Harry was pouring over his trunk’s contents, Frank grasped his shoulder and turned Harry to face him. “Kid, you wanted this. Remember what I told you in the beginning? Revenge is personal. You’re doing this your way. You can still say ‘fuck it’ and we can do it the old-fashioned 'Punisher' way. But this is the choice you made. I’m just stickin’ by your side, supporting you like a good dad is supposed to. I always say you make your own choices and deal with the consequences. Do I think you’re ready? From what I’ve seen with you learnin’ all this new shit, yeah, I think you’re ready. You’ll go in, pass yourself off as this Lord guy, ruin the shit out of the people who did this to you… then, like when I finally finished with my vendetta, you’ll figure out where you want to go from there. If it comes from within you, it’s always right.”

He ruffled Harry’s hair. (Still streaked, since he would not allow them to change that about him.) “Now, did you pack a lunch and your backpack for tomorrow?” Frank asked him with a shitty grin.

Harry punched him in the side. Which, in turn, caused their conversation to deteriorate into a wrestling match on the ground. (Spoiler alert: Frank won… stupid dad with cheating moves, stupid headlock, stupid ridiculous strength, stupid... stupid noogies.)

Okay, Harry could do this. Hogwarts tomorrow, here he comes.

- September 1^st, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Platform 9 ¾, King’s Cross Station, London -

Somehow, Harry talked Frank into bringing Wade to King’s Cross Station… Frank must be getting soft on him, or he really thought that Harry needed a crazy man as a support system to ensure he was fine before he left. Either way, Wade was there to lend his support.

Lucius, Narcissa and Draco went through the wall first, saying that they would meet him on the other side.

“I’m good, I’m good… this will be good. First long mission alone… I’ll be fine,” Harry chanted under his breath, trying to pump himself up for doing this without the aid of Frank and the rest of his group of supporters.

Leaning into Harry’s view, Frank interrupted his near manic mumbling. “Kid shut up. You know this shit. Go through there ‘n give ‘em hell.”

Wade, who had been checking out the wall by pushing on it and walking around the back, skipped back over to where they stood. “Yep, Baby Scourge, the author told me that you’re gonna do great! If you are scared, just be scarier than whatever is scaring you. And you can be oh so very scary… we all know that.”

He glanced up and tilted his head before nodding once. Looking over to Harry, he stated, “Oh, also, she and I had a discussion about putting you in Hufflepuff… just to freak everyone out. I was totally for it. You look fabulous in yellow, just like Wolvie. But then she argued that you would probably kill everyone in that house by the end of the first night. So, yeah, no Hufflepuff. On the bright side! Three other houses to choose from!”

Harry raised one eyebrow at Wade and said dubiously, “Riiiggghht, well, tell her thanks? Anyway, I’ll, uh, miss you guys? I guess? I still have my phone, though. I’ll keep it ‘charged’ and text you any updates. (God, he loved magic) Wish me luck.”

Frank patted him on the head as he turned and walked towards the wall, then Wade slapped his ass.

Yep, good luck to him.

He met up with the Malfoys and stood next to pretty boy. People passing them by sent him skeptical looks. (Obviously never having seen someone who looked quite as cool as him.) Even though he was dressed in the standard black school robe, he still looked a little intimidating with his streaked hair and few visible scars. He bared his teeth at those who stared too long… fuckin' plebs.

Narcissa lifted one elegant brow and murmured, “Mr. Scourge, remember propriety. Act according to your station in public.”

Harry mumbled under his breath, “Act according to my…” before taking a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and looking at pretty boy. “Okay, Draco, introduce me to your cohorts. We must away to yon Hogwarts whilst I endeavor to engage in polite conversation and act accordingly, all while remembering to use the correct forks.”

Narcissa pursed her lips in agitation while Lucius actually sighed and rolled his eyes!! (Hooollly Shit! Harry had been such a great influence on the Malfoys!)

Lucy gestured toward the awaiting train and said, “Please board the train, Mr. Scourge. Enjoy your year. Our Lord will contact you with Wizengamot dates. We will see you at the holidays.” He turned to his son and said, “Enjoy your last year, Draco. Act befitting a Malfoy and make us proud.”

- Hogwarts Express -

Harry and Draco sat in a compartment toward the back of the train. Apparently, this was where the ‘cool kids’ sat. (“Slytherins, Harry,” Draco sneered.) They mostly ignored each other until some of Draco’s friends opened the door and joined them. Blaise Zambini, another two boys and a girl greeted Draco, inquiring about his summer holiday. They then turned curious looks on Harry. (Except Blaise, who for some reason was still holding a grudge for that whole mom insult. *Shrug*)

“Drakie-poo,” the girl with a piggish nose whined, “introduce us.” (Harry choked on a snort… ‘Drakie-poo’???)

Draco glanced at Harry and sighed, “Ms. Pansy Parkinson, Heir Theodore Nott, and Heir Gregory Goyle, may I introduce Lord Henry Castiglione, otherwise known as Harry.”

“Ooh, a Lord,” Pansy said, batting her eyelashes at Harry.

He raised a brow and leaned forward in faux concern. “Do you have something in your eye? Should we find a mirror? Quick, pretty boy… conjure a mirror or something so that this wonderful lady mightst remove the offending speck from her eye.”

Gregory sent Harry a confused look then looked at Pansy to see if she really had something in her eye.

Blaise sent him a glare while pretty boy groaned quietly at Harry’s antics.

Theodore, on the other hand, snorted. He looked Harry up and down and smirked. “So, you’re the new Lord that my father talked about. You and your proxy have been making waves in the Ministry and Wizengamot already. It should be interesting with you coming to Hogwarts this year. I look forward to seeing what changes will come about by your presence here." He focused on Harry's hair and few visible scars for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "You do not… look like I thought you would.”

Harry stretched his arms wide in his seat. “I know! Better, right?” He grinned impishly at Theodore. This kid looked like he, at least, could take a joke. (Looking at you there, Blaise.)

Draco dropped his head in his hand, mumbling his apologies to his friends for their compartment companion.

Harry just grinned.

- Sorting Ceremony -

This was stupid. First the most uptight Scottish woman dressed in the most cliché witch outfit met him and the ‘first-years’ at the door. He had to ride in a fuckin’ boat to get there! At least there was a squid in the lake. That was pretty cool.

The woman introduced herself as Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. She brought them into the Great Hall where the start of term feast was being held. As he stood to the side at the back of the line, he fiddled with his wand, wishing he could start sending spells toward the Headmaster.

Harry was less than enthused when he first laid eyes on the Headmaster. His garish colorful robes, long scraggily beard, wannabe Santa cheer… yeah, he hated him on sight. Poor Severus was seated next to him, attempting to avoid eye contact with Harry. He had a feeling if they did make eye contact, one of them would probably end up doing something stupid, like killing the old asshole in the middle of the banquet.

Shit, he hadn’t even been in the school for ½ an hour and he already was itching for a kill. (Calm down, Harry. Breathe.)

He barely registered when ‘his’ name was called for sorting. He strode to the stool with his shoulders back, not making eye contact with anyone in the hall. The entire place had gone eerily quiet as he sat down. Drawing upon all that Narcissa and Lucius had taught him, he sat there regally as a hat (hat?) was placed on his head. (He really needed to discuss with Severus the number of things that were glossed over regarding the sorting ceremony. He really would’ve liked to have been prepared for a potentially lice-ridden piece of ancient fabric being put on his head.)

“You will need to let me into your mind, young man,” the hat spoke to him through his thoughts.

Harry jerked minutely at the fact that anyone or anything was able to talk to him with his mind shielded. He suspiciously sent his thoughts back to the hat, “Why? Just talk to me like this. I don’t let anyone in my head.”

“I am not going to spread your secrets, young wizard, I merely need to peek so that I might place you in the best house that will help you as you go through your schooling.”

“Huh,” Harry mused, “and it stays between us?”

“I am a sentient hat, sworn to magically determine which of the four school Houses each new student belongs most to. I do not share information with anyone, no matter what their station in Hogwarts or the wizarding world.”

“Okay, just know that if you do anything I even remotely consider sketchy, I have a fuck ton of knives that I know how to use. And I fuckin’ love fire. They won’t be able to piece together the ashen shreds of your ancient ass if you betray me,” Harry growled in his mind.

“Goodness, young man! I swear I will not divulge your secrets to anyone!”

“Right, okay,” Harry murmured to the hat, dropping his mind shields for the first time in a very long time. He made sure not to make eye contact with anyone as he sat there with the ridiculous hat on his head.

“Oh! Oh my! You have had an interesting life, haven’t you, Mr. Potter.”

Harry twitched a little at the use of his real name.

“I can see that you have a real penchant for vindication. And a small tendency to lean toward violence.”

Harry snorted at the hat, “Small??”

“Yes, well, I see why you have come here this year. I have to say that I am saddened by the need for you to take action, however I understand. You have been greatly wronged. I am more disappointed at those in the wizarding world who were tasked with your care. Although I cannot help you much, I will give you this advice. You can trust those that you have met before coming to school. They do have your best interests at heart. I remember sorting Tom Riddle and knew then that he would do great things in this world.”

“Yeah, Tommy Boy is great,” Harry agreed, looking out at the sea of faces seated at the tables. They had begun to murmur to each other, probably because he was having a full-blown conversation with a damned hat.

“Well now, young man, where to put you…”

“Wade said no Hufflepuff,” Harry interjected quickly.

“Goodness, no! With the amount of viciousness in your head I wouldn’t put you anywhere near that House.”

The hat hummed in thought, “Gryffindor is not the best choice. You may be brave in a fight, however I very much doubt that you will fit in with their thoughts on selfless courage, chivalry, and determination. And, no, determination to murder people does not count, Mr. Potter. I might consider Ravenclaw, but even though you have a sarcastic wit and an amazing ability to learn and adapt to new things, I feel that you would not fit in with their bookish ways.”

Harry sighed, “It’s gonna be those pompous Slytherin asshats, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter. Although I take offense at the term ‘asshat’, I do believe that House will be the best fit for your goals. You are cunning, utilize your resourcefulness, tend to take on the position of leadership, and definitely have ambition. Even though that ambition is to take out all those who have wronged you. Yes, Mr. Potter, it better be…”

“SLYTHERIN!!”

Well, shit. An entire year rooming with pretty boy and Blaise. Color him excited, Harry rolled his eyes to himself as he re-shielded his mind.

He stood from the chair and handed the hat back to Professor McGonagall. He turned to the head table and narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster. Dipping his head slightly, he smoothly turned and stalked over to the Slytherin table to take his place. Theodore (“Call me Theo.”) graciously moved over so that there was a spot between him and a blond girl. (“May I introduce Daphne Greengrass?”)

Harry sent a wicked grin toward pretty boy and stretched out his hand for a fist bump. He stage whispered, “Slytherin bros for life.”

Pretty boy blushed slightly, averted his eyes, and sighed in frustration.

- Hogwarts Halls, First Night -

Harry had settled into his room in the Slytherin dungeons. Thank god he didn’t have to share with Blaise or pretty boy. Not that pretty boy was bad, he was just… ugh, too high maintenance for Harry to deal with. And Blaise, well that boy could hold a grudge.

Instead, Harry shared a suite of rooms with Theo. He was actually pretty pumped at that, since Theo seemed to be the most chill of all the Slytherins he had met so far. He was trying to stay in the ‘Italian nobility’ state of mind, but it was hard. He figured it was more important to do that around the adults, anyway. So, around Theo, Draco and the other Slytherins he let his hair down a little. (Figuratively.)

He didn’t want to stay in the rooms that evening, though. He was angry. He was frustrated about being so close to the asshole who caused his abuse. He knew that he had some other players to take out before he got to the end scene, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to strangle the man right then and there.

So, he did what he was good at. He escaped.

Telling Theo that he needed to speak to Severus, he left the common room and wandered the halls. Pulling out the Marauder’s Map (thank you Sirius and Remus!), he touched his finger to the corner and felt his magic spark as he said, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

The halls of Hogwarts and all of the hiding spots as well as secret passages slowly bled onto the parchment. He looked at the footprints of the Headmaster, up in his office, and other professors in what he assumed was their version of a teacher’s lounge. Severus was in his potion’s lab. (Shocker…)

And up ahead, apparently staring at a wall, were the footprints of Luna Lovegood. Harry made his way to where she stood.

“Hello Harry,” her dreamy voice reached him before he got to her.

“Hello Luna. It is Luna, right?” Harry asked as he walked up to her side, turning to face the blank wall with her.

“Mhmm.”

“Ah,” Harry looked around curiously, “what are we looking at?”

“Why, the answers, of course. They sing from the walls. Can’t you hear them?”

Harry stared at her dubiously for a moment before turning back to look at the walls. “I must not be able to understand them?” He said tentatively.

Luna giggled, “Don’t worry Harry, they will talk to you soon. They told me.” She turned to look him in the eye, “I’m happy you are here. You have fewer Nargles. That is good.”

She looked over his shoulder. He turned to see if anyone was there, but there was no one.

“You know, Harry, we are going to have a lot of fun this year. Magic gifts her favorites with blessings. Yes, I can see that you will be very blessed.”

Harry snorted at the dizzying girl, “Luna, you know your name means ‘moon’ in Italian? Luna bella.⁽¹⁾ I think I’ll call you Moonbeam. You act like what I think a moonbeam would act, if they were alive, that is.”

Luna’s face brightened, and she sent him a brilliant smile. “Oh! But they are alive, Harry! Hm, Moonbeam, yes, I can see us now. Moonbeam and Scourge. You will take them all on and I will light your way.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at the use of the name ‘Scourge’. “Hmm, let’s keep that name under our hats, okay Moonbeam?”

“Okay, Scourge…” she smiled dreamily. Then she turned and skipped off down the hallway. Harry shook his head at the nutty girl. Insane, but interesting.

Chapter Text

Harry shook his head at the nutty girl. Insane, but interesting.

- September 2^nd, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Headmaster’s Office -

It took Dumbledore all of one day to decide that he wanted to pull Harry into his office for a ‘chat’.

Harry was ready. He’d trained. He’d planned. He’d pre-fuckin’-pared for this. But above all, he wanted to meet this asshole who had taken so much from him.

During potions with the Gryffindors, a young third year interrupted Severus and informed him that Harry was needed in the Headmaster’s office. He handed him a small piece of parchment with the words ‘acid pops’ written on it. Severus informed him that was the password to tell the gargoyle who guarded the way up to the office.

Harry made his way down the halls of Hogwarts toward the Headmaster’s office, keeping to the shadows, when he could, and out of sight of those who might be keeping tabs on the new student. He paused when he reached the gargoyle and sneered.

Ugh, really? Fuckin’ passwords? Can’t just have a lock or somethin’ like a regular person? No, he has to have people know the secret ‘code’. Like he was a boy scout or some crap in a club and he was hiding out up there… ‘no evil wizards allowed’.

Just breathe, Harry. Center yourself. You’re an Italian Lord (kinda) – from America. You’re an Italian Lord…

“Acid pops,” he said flatly, glaring at the gargoyle while he waited for the entrance to the stairs to open. The gargoyle seemed to inspect him, as if he was not good enough to enter. He leaned forward, spiked his magic and snarled menacingly at it. (Frank would be so proud.) Apparently, he succeeded in scaring the freaky ass thing into opening up, because the stairs immediately appeared. He took a fortifying breath and ascended to the office.

“Ah, Henry, my dear boy,” Dumblefuck Dumbledore said ‘kindly’, as he peered over his half-moon glasses, eyes twinkling at Harry. His phoenix sat behind him on a perch, eyeing Harry curiously. Dumbledore also took in Harry’s appearance as he sat there, from Harry’s streaked hair and few visible scars, down to his not-necessarily-standard-school-wear boots. (There was only so much he would change about himself, after all.)

“I wanted to personally welcome you to Hogwarts. Please, do come in and have a little chat with an old wizard.”

He pushed a (gross looking) bowl of lemon candy toward Harry. (Seriously, eew, like how long had they been sitting there and how many people’s hands had touched them???)

“Would you like a lemon drop? Most students who come in to visit me enjoy a sweet while we chat.”

Nope, not creepy at all Mr. Pervy, trying to get children with candy… Was that candy spiked? Harry bet it was spiked with some calming potion or truth potion or some shit. Chester Molester alert! He needed an adult! Where was Wade when he needed him? This guy should not be in charge of children, what with his weird magic that gave Harry a slimy feel, and his attempt to push laced sweets. He gave Harry the fuckin’ heeby jeebies, even without the whole ‘I stole all of your money and placed you illegally into an abusive home’ shtick that he had going for him.

Harry looked Dumbledore straight on, dipped his head slightly in a bow, and said respectfully, “Oh no, sir. I do thank you so much for the kind offer, though. I was raised that too many sweets ruin a child’s temperament.”

Riiigggght... once, when Harry was ten, and Frank and Logan were off shooting and clawing things, Wade was put in charge of Harry for a few days – bad idea. They spent the entire weekend living on Chunky Monkey ice-cream, peanut butter cups, popcorn, pizza rolls and Dr. Pepper. Talk about poor life choices and ruining his stomach’s ‘temperament’… Frank said the stomachache and vomiting was punishment enough. Logan just laughed his ass off at the stupidity of both of them.

“Ah, yes my dear child. I do understand that. I have so few bad habits (Really? Really???) that I do not feel guilty at the amount of lemon drops that I sneak here and there,” Dumbledore said with an extra twinkle in his eye. His phoenix squawked, seeming to agree with Harry about the bad habit bit.

This man must have to siphon so much magic into that twinkle glamour for it to maintain its stupid level of fuckin’ shininess. No wonder he’s resorted to leaching from others… it’s to maintain the fuckin’ twinkle!

“Now, the reason, my dear boy, that I have called you into my office, is to ensure that you are being helped as much as you can while you attend Hogwarts. I understand you were put into Slytherin House. How are you liking it there, dear child?”

Meeting Dumbledore’s eyes, Harry felt the small nudge in his forehead, signaling the Headmaster attempt at legilimency. Narrowing his eyes minutely, he reinforced his mind shield before he affected an innocent look. “Oh, it has been just fine sir. Everyone has been so welcoming. (Except Blaise – the uptight jerkwad.) I am also very much enjoying the classes here. It is much better than being schooled in America. I have a feeling that I am going to learn so much.”

The twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes dimmed a bit when Harry strengthened his shields, but he quickly reassumed his grandfatherly air. Harry could only tell that the man was getting frustrated because Frank had taught him to read body language, and the Headmaster was getting a wee bit frustrated with Harry. (According to the slight tightening around his eyes that Harry could see. Yay!)

“Well, be that as it may, young man, I feel that you would probably feel much better in Gryffindor, with people who you could trust.” (Like Harry was going to trust anyone this asshole suggested.) “I am sure that you do not want to stay in the House of Salazar Slytherin. Why, that is such a dark place for a student who is both new to the school and new to the British wizarding world to be.”

The Headmaster tented his fingers in front of his lips and hummed slightly. “And speaking of being new to the British wizarding world, I have also heard that you will be going to Wizengamot this year to place your vote.” He leaned forward slightly while speaking shrewdly. “And, have I heard correctly that you are taking over the House of Potter votes as well?”

Harry knew damn well Dumbledore was aware of that fact. Lucy practically danced into the manor when he was elected Chief Warlock after the number of votes swung their way.

“You must know, young man, that you have a very important task with your inheritance. The Potters were an amazing Light family who did great things for this world. They sacrificed themselves for their son, who in turn became the Savior of our world by fighting off the most dangerous of evil wizards. He has also sadly been lost, but we must honor him and the sacrifice of his parents by remaining in the Light and shunning all Dark magic.”

Harry let his eyes grow big at this… while trying not to reach for the knife in his boot that he kept for ‘social occasions’ such as these. It didn’t stop his fingers from slightly twitching in a desire to grab it, though.

Dumbledore continued, “I worry that this responsibility will be too much strain for someone so young. I am an old wizard, experienced with these sorts of things, Henry. I know that there will be people who will try to get you to sway your votes to one side. (Um, like you??) I am worried that you, being a young an impressionable seventeen, might be brought over to the Darker side. No, my boy, this will not do at all. You must follow what the Potters would have wanted you to do. I was very close to the family.”

YOU FUCKIN’ MURDERED THE FAMILY!!! Breathe… wax on, wax off. Breathe, Harry, breathe.

“You must listen to me when I say that you should think long and hard on the right way to vote in Wizengamot. Yes, the Light is the way to go, my boy. And I would be most willing to help you in any way regarding what you need to choose. Anytime, my boy. Anytime.” He smiled graciously, and nodded, while he peddled his bullshit.

Harry blinked at him in absolute disbelief. Was this the kind of shit that he pulled with everyone? What if Harry actually was some impressionable kid who didn’t have any clue what to do. No wonder this Dumbleass was able to get so many people on his side. He started to brainwash them young. He couldn’t listen to this crap anymore.

Taking a deep breath, so he didn’t reach across the desk and strangle the old man (yet), he adopted his best ‘Bambi’ eyes and said politely, “Oh, I’m sorry sir. I thought this meeting was about school. I had no idea that I needed to have my guardian here to discuss Wizengamot. Are you important in the Wizengamot, sir? I’ve just started learning politics, and I don’t know all the important people yet, you see.”

GAAAAaaaaaah! He needed to stab someone soon after having to listen to this shite and pretend to be this innocent and naïve.

Dumbledore’s lips formed a minute frown before smiling genially again. “Well, I wouldn’t say important, young Henry, but I am a wizard that the members of the Wizengamot do look to for advice. But, oh, my ancient mind is getting away from me! Of course, I would never speak of anything other than school with a student. Of course. Now, let us get down to your resort. I believe that it was merely a mistake on the Sorting Hat’s part, and we can fix it in no time.”

He looked over at the Sorting Hat, who was minding its own business sitting on the shelf in the office. “Now, Hat, I am sure that we both agree that young master Henry should get a resort. He obviously does not fit in with the ideals of the Slytherin house.”

Uh, what? The man had known him for all of ½ hour at this point, and Harry had barely said ten words. Was this really how he ran the school? The man was obviously not just evil, but seriously senile.

The Hat lifted a cloth ‘brow’ and said, “I don’t make mistakes, Headmaster. I put the young man there. He stays there. There has been no such thing as a resort since I was gifted to this school by the great Godric Gryffindor. There will not be one now.”

“Surely you can see…” Dumbledore tried to cajole him.

“No. Final answer. Now let me rest until I am needed next.” The Hat hopped a little, spun around and faced the back of the shelf. Behind Dumbledore, his phoenix tittered out a small laugh at the entire situation.

Breathing out a frustrated sigh, Dumbledore fixed Harry with a dismayed look. “Alas, it is not to be. I know you are disappointed about staying in Slytherin. However, there is a silver lining. I have a feeling that you will enjoy making friends with the students that I am about to introduce you to.” He looked over to the door and called out to whoever was on the other side that they should come in.

Harry turned as three students from Gryffindor entered Dumbledore’s office. One was a girl with bushy, washed out brown hair, slightly too large teeth and a superior air about her. She smiled knowingly at the Headmaster before turning to Harry and affecting her best ‘welcoming’ smile. (She missed her mark by a mile.)

The second boy to enter was a slightly tubby, seemingly quieter boy. He seemed shy about the fact that he was even in the office, glancing around nervously like he would be put on the spot to answer pop quiz questions right then and there. He didn’t meet Harry’s eyes, instead standing there and looking at his shoes.

Lastly, a tall ginger with a goofy face followed the other two. Harry noticed that his robes were worn thin and a little too short for his tall frame. He loped into the room with a lazy gait and shot the occupants an inane grin.

“Hello mate,” he said when he met Harry’s eyes. “Looks like you’re going to be with the good kids now. No worries, we’ll keep you safe from those slimy snakes.” He gave an over exaggerated shudder when he spoke of the Slytherin students.

Oh, the amount of prejudice in the wizarding world was ridiculous to Harry. He liked the world that he came from… good or bad… innocent or guilty… alive or dead. You know, normal.

The girl introduced herself as Hermione Granger and began immediately telling him that he would be spending his time after classes with the three of them. They would start a study group in the library. She then handed Harry some parchment that had been marked with timetables, scheduled tutoring sessions and began telling him how much better his education will be now that she had taken charge of it.

Harry looked at her, dumbfounded. He was trying to maintain ‘decorum’ (thank you, Narcissa), but seriously? Was this really how people went about things in the wizarding world??

“Uh, Hermione, right? I am probably good at studying by myself. I think that I have a pretty good basis for my education, and some decent study habits. I came into this school with high OWL scores,” he said, as politely as he could. He was not about to let some bossy bitch plan all of his days. He had plans for himself. He needed to find the Weasleys. He needed to get the Order members. He needed to murder a Headmaster. His schedule was full. He was swamped.

“We’ll see,” she said with her lofty tone. She gestured to the ginger and said, “This is Ron Weasley. He will be joining us in these sessions, along with Neville Longbottom.” She gestured to the shy boy.

Harry’s stomach clenched involuntarily at the name ‘Weasley’. He sent a slow (hopefully not evil) smile toward the boy and said, “Oh, well then, I suppose it would be good to join you for a few sessions. It would be good to make some new friends. I will have to look at these schedules, but let me get back to you.”

Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling to the point that a disco ball would be put to shame. “Good, good. I can see true friendship forming here. Yes, very good.” His phoenix seemed to arch a feathery brow while screeching incredulously. Harry had a feeling that he and the phoenix were going to get along quite well.

Dumbledore continued, “Well, young Henry, you are dismissed back to your classes. I am sure that you will think long and hard on what we have discussed here. And I know that you cannot wait until the end of the day to connect with your new friends.”

Yeaaaahhh, that’s gonna be a hard ‘nope’ from Harry.

- Outside the Headmaster’s Office -

He nodded his goodbyes to those in the room and left out the door, making sure that it clicked when it closed so that they would know he was actually gone. He clomped down the stairs loudly, got to the gargoyle (stuck out his tongue) and walked through the doorway. Before it could close, he passed his hand over himself, bringing his magic around to make himself invisible. He slipped back up the stairs and stopped in front of the Headmaster’s door. Pressing his fingers against the door he whispered a subtle listening spell…

“He doesn’t seem too impressive, Headmaster,” the bossy girl spoke.

“Merlin, did you see his hair? He looks like a freak! And the scars? He looks proper scary is what he looks like,” Weasley criticized. “Dunno why you want us to be friends with a slimy snake anyway, sir.”

“Ron! I can’t believe you. The Headmaster has tasked us with the very important job of bringing a lost and potential Dark wizard to the Light. Think of how much the boy would bring to the Order. He’s already a Lord, Ron. He has votes in Wizengamot. He has money,” Hermione nagged.

Harry heard Ron huff in disgust. “We do need money, alright. Merlin, what with the ‘lost Savior’s’ trust not giving our share every month anymore, Mum and Dad barely give me anything for allowance. Ginny was going to use her share as a dowry. Because we got cut off, they’ve not even been able to replace my robes this year.” Harry heard him grumble lowly, “Stupid missing Savior.”

He heard the Headmaster hum then say, “Yes, well we need a different tactic regarding the Potter fortune and legacy. This young Castiglione is directly in charge of that House now. We might want to have your sister consider working toward aligning herself with the young Lord. She could use her wiles to persuade the young boy. Become his wife. And then, if something were to happen to him at a later date… well it would benefit us all, wouldn’t it, my dear children?”

“He seemed okay to me,” a quiet voice interjected.

“Shut up, Neville. Merlin. You’re always trying to get your own way and push your opinions on others. Always have to be the center of attention, you do,” Ron grumbled.

Hermione agreed, “Yes Neville, you obviously don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, dear boy,” the Headmaster concurred, “you best just listen as the more knowledgeable discuss matters here. This young unknown wizard might bring about an issue with your ability to fight in this war. We need to ensure that he is where we need him, not making his own decisions. We will need to guide him. You three will need to keep strong watch and continue to report to me.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead. This quiet guy Neville was always trying to be the center of attention?? He was the one who they had replaced ‘Harry Potter’ with as the ‘Savior’?? Poor bastard. He only said five words in the entire conversation. Wow… they really treated this kid like shit. If he were in that kid’s shoes, he would just up and leave. Let them fight their own damn war.

“Well, my bright Gryffindors, I must urge you to befriend this young Henry. Show him the true path. Make sure that he interacts with your sister as much as possible, Mr. Weasley, as I am sure that they would be a wonderful match… until he is no longer with us, that is. And Mr. Longbottom?” The Headmaster paused.

“Yes, sir?” Neville quietly asked.

“You must continue your training. I believe that Mr. Moody will be able to spend some time with you tonight. He will be working on your ability to endure some of the Darker spells, the unforgivables. I believe he was going to focus on the cruciatus this evening. It is, after all, one of Voldemort’s favorite spells. We would not want you to go up against him without being able to withstand its horrible effects. In fact, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger should practice their spells as well, just to help out, of course.”

Harry had heard enough. He loved a good torture session as well as the next guy, but this was insane! Harry didn’t believe in torturing people for no fuckin’ reason! This asshole of a mentor and guardian was torturing some poor kid just to ‘prepare’ him for a fight that probably would never happen!

Tom didn’t want to fight a war! Sure, he wanted a few key players… permanently disposed of, but a war was completely counterproductive to all that they had been discussing over the past year. He had no desire to spill magical blood. He wanted to unite the magical world and prove that all magic should be accepted. He wanted to take over the political way. The smooth, ‘Tom-esque’ way. Not the fuckin’ torturing some shy-ass kid kind of way.

Fuck.

The doors to the Headmaster’s office opened and the three Gryffindors emerged. Ron and Hermione looked smug and were discussing how much enjoyment they would get from practicing their spells that evening. While Neville, that poor bastard, slunk behind them, defeated at the prospect of potentially enduring hours of torture under the wands of his ‘friends’ and ‘instructor’.

Jesus H. Christ.

Harry let them pass then followed them out into the halls. He found a small alcove and released his invisibility. He needed to talk to Frank…

Miyagi
—————

(Scourge) 11:12

tlked to dumfuk n met a wesly

(Scourge) 11:12

n 2 othr asshls

(Miyagi) 11:14

how did it go?

(Scourge) 11:14

i h8 them all

(Scourge) 11:15

dumfuk makes my skn crwl

(Scourge) 11:16

he tried 2 get in2 my head

(Miyagi) 11:17

what did you do?

(Scourge) 11:19

styd clm n smiled n gve my best bambi O.O

(Miyagi) 11:21

proud of you kid

(Scourge) 11:22

ths shit is hrdr thn i thot

(Miyagi) 11:23

let me know if you need me

(Scourge) 11:23

yep bak 2 tryng not 2 kll ppl

(Miyagi) 11:24

fatality

(Scourge) 11:25

holy mortal kmbat batmn!

(Miyagi) 11:26

im rad

(Scourge) 11:28

wurd

(Miyagi) 11:30

stay safe kid

Chapter Text

stay safe kid

- September 30^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Hogwarts -

Harry had been in Hogwarts long enough that he had made a decent name for himself with the staff. They considered him very polite and a smart student. (HA! Thank you tutoring for the past year… apparently all that bullshit was worth it.) The Slytherins kept out of his way after he got a little too ‘feisty’ during an altercation with another seventh year student in the common room.

No, no one died, Frank. And there was only a little blood. Besides… what happens in Slytherin stays in Slytherin.

Needless to say, none of his House believed him to be an introverted, mousy kid. (Because, spoiler alert: he wasn’t).

Only Moonbeam (who was just crazy enough to want to help him), Theo and pretty boy really had anything to do with him anymore. Well, and Severus, but he didn’t really count because he was a teacher, and they weren’t supposed to seem close. Not that it mattered much what other people thought. He did think it funny that the other students, however, believed he was a quiet kid, albeit a little strange looking. They pretty much left him to himself. (Which was what he wanted anyway.)

Tom and he had been communicating via owl. (Lame ass couldn’t bring himself to even try the cellphone that Harry had fixed up to work with his magic. Ugh, technophobe.) They were working out the necessary plans regarding the upcoming Wizengamot session in October. Harry was ready to go in and see what the whole thing was about, and Tom had his list of ‘to-do’s that he wanted to achieve during the session. With Harry’s votes, they would be able to bring forward some new laws stopping discrimination based on supposed magical affiliation.

Using his pull with Rita Skeeter, Tom had started to push out slightly critical articles in the Prophet that questioned the validity of having Dumbledore even attend Wizengamot. He had her point out that he no longer had any legal votes to cast, nor was he Chief Warlock. He was merely hanging on by his reputation within the Light.

Although they all knew that the articles would not change anything regarding his actual attendance to the session, it did allow for a small amount of doubt to be cast throughout the wizarding community.

Along with the Prophet, the Quibbler (bless Moonbeam and her father) also ran articles. Each one had a different catchy title proclaiming the Headmaster’s actions, with unique subliminal editing added in for flair:

And Harry’s personal favorite (probably because he caused the prank):

He did have to endure the heinous study groups with the Gryffindor shitheads, but it was a small price to pay to get more information on how to take his revenge on his list of fuckers. He figured he would start at the bottom and work his way to the top, saving the best for last.

And whoo boy, was he ready to finally start taking some revenge. It had been too long with him just waiting there, biding his time, smiling like an asshole and politely acting like something he wasn’t. (Not to mention using the correct fuckin’ forks all the goddamn time.)

He sent out a quick owl to Tom to let him know that his plan was going to be put into action later that night and assumed that the man would get the information to all the necessary parties.

Ok, time for a little fun.

- Forbidden Forest -

Harry hated divination. He hated the woman who taught it. He thought the whole thing was a crock of shit. The only people who had ever said anything even remotely true about the future were Luna-beam, Wade (but that fucker was cray-cray), and Christopher Walken in the Dead Zone. And Trelawney had nothin’ on those three. Besides the fact that she constantly saw death and destruction for all the students in her class… she took fuckin’ bribes for fake prophecies! What a piece of trash.

So, Harry hated divination.

He also hated Trelawney, but he had good reason to. After all, she was on his list. And even though she was at the bottom, she had drawn lucky number 1 in helping him start his ‘Vendetta Against Assholes Who Fucked Harry Over’. Known, of course, to those closest to him as the VAAWFHO (/vô’,fər/) – catchy name. Ok, not really, but it was kind of cool to think that he might be important enough to have some sort of acronym named after him and his plight. Besides, it wasn’t like Harry was so stupid that he actually wrote all his lists and shit down. (“Never leave a paper trail, kid. It’ll get ya every time.”)

The time to start his revenge was now. He and Severus concocted a plan that he would be seen in Severus’ classroom after dinner on the night of the full moon, studying until curfew. ("Use your contacts, kid. Have people help you when they can, but make damn sure you trust 'em completely, first.”) Although he would be seen there, it would not be him. Instead, the wonderful Barty Crouch Jr. had kindly volunteered to take some Polyjuice potion and act as Harry. (He also offered to do Harry’s potions essay, but Severus suggested against it, citing Barty’s atrocious handwriting and lack of syntax. Harry just snorted at the two.)

With a version of ‘himself’ in Severus’ classroom, Harry was left with the opportunity to actually go and get Shitbull Trelawney. He made himself invisible as he left Severus’ classroom and headed for her rooms. He checked for any wards that might alarm her to his presence, but she must have been relying on her powers of divination to keep her safe because no wards were present. (Shitty idea for a woman who couldn't divine her way out of a fuckin' paper bag.)

The door, however, was locked. Pulling his wand (‘cus, even though his magic was pretty strong in a fight, it didn’t do everything he wanted without a wand), he quietly whispered alohomora and heard the click of her door unlocking.

Pressing the door open, he squeezed through the smallest crack he could. He found Trelawney on her couch, enjoying her evening tea and a book. (It was probably the ‘Divination for Dummies’ guide, but he couldn’t bring himself to even care to look.) He stood in front of her and allowed his invisibility to shimmer so that she could tell someone was there, but not necessarily who.

“Who’s there?” She asked suspiciously, setting down her tea and peering out into the room through her giant bug glasses.

“You should never say ‘who’s there?’... don’t you watch scary movies?” Harry replied softly, eerily disguising his voice.

“What are you talking about? Who are you? Where are you?” She asked, her voice raising hysterically. Quickly standing up and inching toward the end of the couch (as if she could hide behind it or something), she waved her wand frantically toward the middle of the room. (Nowhere near where Harry was standing, idiot.)

He walked up close to her side, leaned in and yelled “Boo!”

She screamed and spun to look at him as he let his invisibility fall away. “Mr. Castiglione??? What do you want? How did you even get in here?” She glanced around frantically, “I locked my door!!”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “You learn alohomora in year one, bitch. And you learn imperio in fourth year. Guess which spell I’m gonna fuckin' use next.”

Staring at him in terror, she stuttered, “B... but why?”

“We’ll discuss the specifics later… imperio. You want to take a walk into the Forbidden Forest right now to communicate with the centaurs regarding some new predictions you have seen. If anyone stops you on the way out, you will tell them it is of the utmost importance that you do this alone otherwise you will not find the answers you are looking for. You will head into the clearing after the first grove of trees, where you will stand and wait for further instruction. Do you understand?” He told her coldly.

With glazed eyes (it was difficult to see through the thick glasses, but they were definitely glazed over), Trelawney spoke tonelessly, “I understand. I need to walk into the Forbidden Forest now.”

Harry reapplied his invisibility and instructed her to start walking. He followed her through the halls, out the doors of Hogwarts and past Hagrid’s hut. The only person they came into contact with was Hagrid, who was out walking Fang. Hagrid was a little sad that she did not want company, and Fang was a little too interested in sniffing around Harry’s boots, but they finished their conversation and Trelawney continued into the woods.

She stopped, just like she was instructed to do, in the middle of the clearing. Harry walked up to her and dragged her bodily over to a tree, where he proceeded to bind her hands behind her back and around the tree. As she stood there, vacant expression on her face, he smirked. It was no fun to do this if she didn’t know what was happening. And he figured she deserved to enjoy all the fun he was going to have.

He raised a silencing spell around the clearing and released the imperio.

She immediately started screaming for help. He watched her for a few minutes, dispassionately rolling his eyes, allowing her to yell herself hoarse. Eventually, the screams turned to sobs as she kept asking him why. Why was he doing this. Why her. What did she ever do to him.

Why.

“You are the ‘almighty’ divination professor. You should know why you are here… shouldn’t you? I mean, unless you’re a fraud. Unless, oh, I don’t know, you were given a fuckin’ bribe to make a fake prophecy about eighteen years ago, and then given this job as payment,” Harry said as he twirled his knife lazily in one hand, flicking the blade open and closed. He shot a glare her way. “Huh, maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you fucked over a whole family. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you helped kill that family with your words. And fuckin’ MAYBE it has somethin’ to do with the fact that by makin’ up that fake ass prophecy, you RUINED a little boy’s life!!!” Harry yelled at her.

He looked at her, tears and snot running down her face, arms straining in an attempt to break through her bonds, both magical and physical. (“Never leave home without zip ties, kid.”) He thought that she was one of the worst of all of them. Without her, he would have been raised by his biological mother and father. He would have never had to experience the cupboard. He wouldn’t be covered in scars from Vernon and Petunia and Dudley.

He would have known magic from the start.

But… he also wouldn’t have known Frank.

Tossing his knife in the air, he weighed that fact in his head. He may have the best dad now, but he sure as hell would have liked to have known the others at least. So, he still came up with the fact that she was fucked. Totally and irrevocably fucked.

He caught his knife and threw it toward her, drilling it into her shoulder. She screamed out in pain as it sank in through her skin.

Twitching his fingers he called the knife back to him. It squelched out of her shoulder and sailed back to his waiting hand. He glanced down at the blood on the blade and back at her.

“Bummer, I bet that hurt.” He cocked his head to the side and asked, “You know what else hurts? Getting whipped by a belt… almost every day…”

“For no… fuckin’… reason.” He punctuated each word with a stinging hex thrown at her body.

He grabbed another knife in his other hand and walked toward her. She tried to turn away from him, but he raised the bloody knife and slashed down her cheeks while stabbing her in the side with the clean one. She keened in pain and bent forward, trying to escape any more wounds he might inflict. He watched her for a moment, ignoring her pain, then removed the knife from her side and stabbed again… just to make himself feel a little better.

Harry stood back and surveyed his work. Blood was dripping down her cheeks and she was favoring the side where he had just stabbed her. She no longer fought the binds holding her, probably due to the pain in her injured shoulder.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I have never seen you before you came to this school. I would never do what you are saying I did,” she whispered hoarsely. “But I have seen the future, and you will not get away with this.”

Harry arched a skeptical brow. “Huh, I’ve fuckin’ seen the future, and guess what! You’re not in it!”

Raising his wand, he intoned a long crucio in her direction. He watched as she bowed off the tree in pain while her mouth hung open in a silent scream. (Too bad she had already screamed her throat raw.) He held the spell for a little over thirty seconds then let it go.

“Why…” She gasped. “Why are you doing this???”

Harry blinked at her incredulously as she continued. “Even if that did happen, and I am not saying it did, you’re from America. You have nothing to do with it! I’ve had nothing to do with you!!” She stopped and dropped her head, shoulders heaving with sobs.

“Eh, not really from America, actually. From here, as it turns out. Castiglione isn’t even my fuckin’ name,” Harry sneered at her, sending another short crucio her way. “Bet you can’t divine my real name. Go on. I’ll even give ya somethin’ nice if you can guess.” Harry mocked.

She peered at him dimly through her thick glasses, tears streaking down her cheeks mingling with the blood. “You aren’t American? You’re from here? Oh… oh my. Who are you?”

Harry stood straight and sketched a slight bow, “No one of consequence, just a boy named Potter… Harry Potter, at your service. Fucked over from birth. Scourge is my name and killin’s my game. Welcome to the jungle, bitch. You’re about to pay for your sins.” Harry snorted at the sheer amount of clichés that he was able to get into one tiny villain speech. (Wade would be so proud. Frank, on the other hand, would just tell him to shut up and get back to work.)

Trelawney gasped and exclaimed in shock, “But you’re dead! You’ve been gone for a decade! No one thought you were still alive.”

“That’s an odd thing for a fuckin’ divination professor to say," Harry said, glancing sharply her way. "Either way, I’m here. I'm alive. You, not so much after tonight. It's all good, though. I’ve even invited some friends to help out! They so wanted to meet you after we’ve finished our little talk.”

He smiled at her genially and assured, “Don’t you worry your little head, though, I’m a forgiving soul. I forgive you completely for everything you’ve done to me. The money you stole, the job you took in exchange for mine and my parents’ lives, the way you helped fool an entire world with a fake prophecy… you know, the small things like that are easy to forgive.”

He rolled his eyes and glanced at a fake camera a la Wade, shaking his head slowly. "But he was lying, folks. He didn't forgive her. He didn't forgive her at all."

Trelawney had dissolved into heaving sobs while listening to his speech. She kept muttering about how sorry she was, how much he must hate her, and to please let her go because she would never do anything bad again. She would run away. He would never have to see her again. “You do not have to do this Harry. If you let me live, I will disappear. I will never tell a soul,” she begged.

Harry sighed. He hated the whole begging part once people got to a certain point. (Sure, sometimes it was a bit fun to watch, but he was pretty much over it with this particular witch.) People were so whiny when they were getting tortured.

“Shut up, bitch,” he growled as he threw another knife in her other shoulder to make it an even pair of stab wounds. He heard it connect with a squelch. Determined to cause as much pain as he could, he yanked it back with his magic.

He tilted his head to the side in an attempt to hear, casting a silencio on Trelawney so that he could listen better. In the distance he could make out the sounds of them coming.

His pack was coming.

Trelawney lifted her head as she heard the wolves baying in the night. Her face paled under the streaks of blood and tears. Harry turned to her and leaned in close to whisper, “In the jungle you must wait...until the wolves come, six or eight.”

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth again in a silent scream.

Harry snickered, “It's scary when you have no idea what's gonna happen. Isn't it?"

He turned and watched as the werewolf forms of Fenrir and Remus entered into the clearing, followed by four other wolves. He turned back to Trelawney and bared his teeth. “Here's a hint... you're gonna die screamin’, bitch. And I’m gonna watch.” He released the silencio so that he could hear her suffering. (That was the best part of vengeance, after all.)

Her head thrashed side to side as she attempted to struggle against her bonds again, but it was no use. With her energy depleted from all the knife and spell torture, she sagged in defeat.

Harry saluted Fenrir jauntily as he approached. He then turned and nodded at Remus and the others. He was about to return his focus to Trelawney and say something else, but a stocky man bringing up the back of the pack caught his eye.

“Logan!!! What the fuck are you doing here??” He cried out happily, rushing over to meet the man as the wolves began to circle the sobbing professor.

“Hey bub. Was visitin’ the wolf there and havin’ a couple cold ones when your weird owl letter shit came for him. Decided to tag along and watch the show,” he drawled, while chomping on his unlit cigar. “You need anything from me? This looks interesting enough. I’ll loan ya my claws if ya want.”

Harry grinned, “Nah, it’s all good. She’s bloody enough to make them happy, and I think that the wolves are gonna get a decent piece of her. I’m just gonna hang back and watch. It’s good to see you though. I've missed you 'n Wade 'n Frank.”

Logan patted him on the shoulder and nodded. "Us too, bub."

Harry turned back to where the woman was still tied to the tree and whistled shrilly. “Hey Fenrir, thanks for the help. I got my fun in, so go ahead and have yours.”

He smirked as he watched the wolf bare his giant fangs at the professor before diving toward her knees. His massive jaw clamped around one and shredded the flesh down to bone. Remus dove for her other leg, biting through to her thigh and ripping out a large chunk of meat. As soon as their alpha had given the go ahead, the other four wolves dove in to get a piece of the action. The sounds of ripping and tearing, and bones crunching filled the clearing, intermingling with the screams of the divination professor.

Harry and Logan just watched, both seemingly content to enjoy the spectacle. At some point during the bloody massacre, Logan lit his cigar and moved to lean against the trunk of a tree next to where Harry stood. Harry grinned vindictively. He snapped a quick picture on his phone of the scene for Wade. Wade would appreciate the gesture. He always did enjoy a decent bloody murder.

Snickering to himself, Harry came to the realization that maybe divination was real. Here he was, just like he had said before, watching as Trelawney died screaming. Huh.

When all that was left of the divination professor were scattered limbs, entrails and a massive amount of blood on the ground, the wolves stopped their feast and howled at the moon. Harry felt overcome by the sheer joy of one person on his list being taken care of. He grinned at Logan and gave a small wave goodbye before transforming into his wolf form to join in with the cries of the others.

Fenrir bared bloody teeth at him while Remus came over and chewed on his scruff in a wolf ‘hug’. It got blood all over his black fur, but that was okay. It was a celebration, after all.

Fenrir howled long and loud at the moon and took off in a hard run toward the edge of the forest, where they came from earlier. Harry ran with them for a while, enjoying the freedom.

Enjoying his victory.

Chapter Text

Albus Dumbledore was very much not okay. The aurors had just left after informing him that the body Hagrid had found during his walk through the Forbidden Forest with Fang was that of his missing divination professor. He popped a lemon drop into his mouth as he considered his next actions.

On one hand, he no longer had to worry about the public learning that the prophecy was a fake. On the other hand, this was obviously not just a random attack. Hagrid had said that she was going out there to discuss a new prediction with the centaurs. What could that prediction possibly have been? It wasn’t like the woman could actually predict anything legitimate. The original true prophecy was found in the middle of an obscure verse in Tycho Dodonus’ book⁽¹⁾ back when he was merely a professor at Hogwarts. Even that was up for interpretation. (Not that he would let anyone know that you could interpret prophecies. No, best let them believe that they are set in stone.)

Albus didn’t need this stress in his life. He was an aged wizard who was merely doing his best to get along in life and make the wizarding world a better place. Couldn’t others see that? Now he had to work on finding a new divination professor while wondering why the old one had been mauled to death. And why she had even been out there in the first place.

The centaurs were no help. They merely looked at him and said that he would bring about the future he had written for himself, spouting off some nonsense about the motions of the celestial bodies that had already foreseen what would come about. However, after that obtuse ‘prediction’, Firenze did agree to become an interim professor of divination. So, the conversation was not a total loss, just a total wash on any actual help for him personally.

Albus groaned. Why was everyone against him all of the sudden? Severus sneered when he was told about the death, saying that Professor Trelawney might have been a fraud of a human being, but Albus should have protected her better. Like it was his fault she traipsed off to get herself killed.

Minerva, Pomona and Poppy all were devastated at the loss of their colleague. (Even though they were often inclined to speak ill of her behind her back.) They could not believe that even the flighty divination professor would be so dumb as to walk through the forest alone at night.

‘There needed to be better security, Albus,’ they kept whining. ‘She must have been coerced,’ they pointed out. ‘There isn’t even a pack of wolves on this side of Scotland. Where did they even come from? There must be a sinister reason that they came here,’ they bemoaned.

No, there needed to be smarter professors, Albus thought to himself, exhaling an annoyed sigh.

He stared into the fireplace as he contemplated the loss of Trelawney. Fawkes chirped in sadness at the loss of one of their own. (At least Albus assumed it was sadness.) The Hat glowered in his direction, as if it was Albus’ fault that she was dead. (Stupid antiquated piece of dusty cloth.)

But, there was a niggling thought in the back of his head. What if someone knew? What if someone had found out? What if this was some orchestrated plot to get back at her for the fake prophecy? Did they know about him? Would they be coming for him next??

No, that was inconceivable. That couldn’t be it. That couldn’t be it at all. It was merely a fluke where his professor decided to take a late-night stroll in wolf infested woods. Yes, that must be it. That was the story he was sticking with, if anyone else should ask.

Absolutely, it was merely a devastating and upsetting accident.

Enjoying his victory.

- October 8^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Late Night, Hogwarts Hallways -

Harry was walking through the halls after dinner late one night in October, running his fingers down the bricks as he attempted to ‘listen’ to them. Luna had mentioned over and over about how the school could talk, how he just needed to open his mind to hear what she had to say. (So far, not a peep had been said by the ancient castle. Harry wasn’t giving up hope, he just thought the whole thing a bit silly.)

He wanted to find the way that Dumbledore was leaching the magic from the students and from some of the professors. Severus did not know how he was actually doing it, but he had an idea there might be a rune stone or perhaps a warding stone hidden somewhere on the school grounds. If he was able to find it and cut off the asshole’s extra magic supply, maybe the old man would start to wither away and die. Or at least get rid of that fuckin’ ridiculous twinkle in his eye.

He hadn’t been able to hear a thing except a little extra humming of his magic. Maybe he was doing this whole thing wrong. Maybe he needed Luna… she was, after all, his resident expert on all things bizarre in the magical world.

As if he had wished her into existence, she appeared at the end of the hallway, skipping toward him… in bare feet? She bounced up to stand next to him, tipping her head up in a smile. Reaching out her hand, she grabbed his and held on. He tried to pull back, but she just gripped it harder and hummed out a small protest.

“You should let people show they care, Scourge. It’s okay to hold the hand of a friend,” she said as she swung their joined hands slowly back and forth.

“Um, okay, sure,” Harry replied, still trying to subtly gain control of his hand back from the sprite-like girl. (She was stronger than her petite frame suggested.)

He looked down at her wriggling toes and asked affectionately, “Moonbeam, silly girl, where are your shoes?”

“Hmm? Oh, the Nargles were exceptionally nasty today. They’re usually not very nice, and I think they’ve hidden my shoes from me, along with my favorite stripey socks. They took my beetle wing earrings and purple quill too.⁽²⁾ I know that I’ll be able to find my things, though. I just have to have faith in Blibbering Humdingers. They will help me.” She squeezed his hand tightly then let it go. Spreading her arms wide, she spun in a little circle on tiptoe so that her robe twirled around her. Sending a dreamy smile Harry’s way, she continued, “We just have to listen for them to lead the way.”

“Ah huh,” Harry said while lifting a brow and hiding a grin. “Well, do you happen to know what these ‘Nargles’ look like? I could help too. An extra set of eyes never hurt when you’re lookin’ for somethin’. Sometimes even Blibbering Humdingers are too busy to get everything done.”

Luna lit up with happiness at his offer. “Oh, that would be wonderful!” She tapped her pointer finger on her chin before answering, “Well, they usually take the form of the Ravens I room with… and sometimes the little girl Weasel.”

“Who?” Harry growled out low in his throat, scowling that she had been hurt by those in her House.

“Oh, they like to name themselves. Silly things, like Cho or Padma. One calls herself Morag… can you believe it? What a silly creature. The Moon Frogs would never accept a name like that. Your enemy’s sister, the Ginevra Weasel sometimes shows up, circling malevolently around as well. You see, the Nargles are rarely nice, Scourge. They’re rarely kind. Often, we must just ignore them and they will go away. But sometimes they do make it so very hard to do so,” she whispered sadly as she looked down at her toes. She wriggled them as she stood there, then turned to face him again. “I just wish I could keep my treasures safe so they could not get to them. If you do find my Nargles… what will you do?”

Harry hummed in thought. He hated bullies. He really, really fuckin’ hated bullies. They always reminded him of Dudley and his cronies from back when he was little. They reminded him of how he always had to hide away so that they couldn’t catch him and hurt him.

“Well, my little Luna Bella, first the Nargles and I will have a small discussion, of course, about where your precious treasures have disappeared to. We might also discuss how they will not be allowed to bother you again. And then, I'll get you your shoes. Can't have you walking around the cold halls without something on your feet to keep your little toes warm, can we?” He cast a subtle warming charm towards her feet as she smiled approvingly.

"Thank you, Scourge. You're such a good friend," she said as she gave him a small, slightly awkward hug. (Only because he had no freakin’ clue how to express himself that way. It wasn’t awkward to her at all, apparently.) Pulling away after a moment, she turned and continued skipping down the hall, singing softly to herself.

He shook his head at her whimsical antics then decided to go for a little hunt. He had some 'Nargles' to find so that he could discuss some issues.

Miyagi
—————

(Scourge) 21:03

off 2 fnd sum mre asshls

(Miyagi) 21:04

from ur list?

(Scourge) 21:04

nope just reg asshls

(Scourge) 21:05

thy r fukn wth moon

(Miyagi) 21:06

ah playin the white knight

(Miyagi) 21:07

good for u kid do the right thing

(Scourge) 21:09

not a fukn wht knght

(Miyagi) 21:10

snort sure kid

(Scourge) 21:11

shut th fuk up

(Miyagi) 21:11

do i need to meet her parents?

(Scourge) 21:13

h8 u

(Miyagi) 21:14

u should go never keep lady waiting

(Scourge) 21:15

o look ddnt hav 2 go fnd asshle

(Scourge) 21:16

my dads 1

(Miyagi) 21:18

as hip kids say… lol

(Scourge) 21:19

found th clssrm gtg

(Miyagi) 21:21

have fun b smart n get the girl

(Scourge) 21:22

*eyeroll* bye

- Abandoned Classroom, Hogwarts -

It didn’t take Harry long to find three of the four girls Moonbeam had described. They were cloistered in an abandoned classroom where he could hear them giggling and gossiping, probably about their bitchy ass actions toward his new friend. He paused outside the door and used a listening spell to hear what they were saying before he went inside.

“Merlin's ghastly robes! Did you see her stupid cork necklace? How anyone could dress like that is beyond me,” a girl's voice reached him through the door.

“Loony looked absolutely ridiculous today! I’m just glad we were able to rid her of those disgusting earrings. My mother would positively disown me if I wore insects as a fashion statement,” another girl chuckled.

“Ha! Fashion statement! More like disaster… I almost gagged over the socks,” the third girl interjected.

The first girl lightly snorted and laughed, “Merlin! Loony is such a waste of good magic. She was complaining to Professor Flitwick that ‘Nargles’ took her stuff. It’s a good thing we’ll never get caught… people will spend the whole time out there looking for her stupid fake animals.”

With that last statement the girls dissolved into a gaggle of giggles, congratulating each other on a job well done. Harry curled one lip up in a snarl after hearing their conversation. They didn’t even know what a job ‘well done’ was. But he would show them. (He was feeling in a most generous and instructive mood, after all.)

He drew magic from the area and cloaked himself in invisibility while opening the door and slipping inside. The girls were so involved with themselves and their petty conversation that they did not even notice when the door opened and closed. He quickly cast locking and warding spells on the door to prevent anyone from seeing or hearing what was about to happen inside the classroom. He tossed up another quick spell to ensure secrecy between the four of them. There wasn’t any reason for anyone to speak of what was going to happen here. After all, they started this by being all secretive and hiding from Moon. He was just here to do them a favor and ensure their secrecy. (“Never leave witnesses, kid. And if you have to leave ‘em alive, make sure you know damn well that they won’t walk away bein’ able to talk about what they’ve seen.”)

The girls were sitting there, oblivious of the danger that had just entered their midst. He pulled his wand and whispered an epoximise on each of their chairs to stick them there. After he had ensured all the spells were in place, he stood in the middle of the chairs and summoned all of their wands to him.

They all screamed out in shock when their wands flew into the air and seemingly floated there, out of reach. They frantically tried to get out of their chairs, but they had no luck due to the strength of Harry’s sticking spell.

“Ah ah ah, ladies… and I use that term as loosely as possible, please, stay seated. I know you feel like you need to stand in the presence of such greatness, but I assure you that there is no need for such formalities,” Harry taunted behind his invisibility.

The Asian girl (Cho?) wrinkled her nose in disgust in the direction of where his voice was coming from. “Excuse me. But who in Merlin’s name are you?”

“I’m the one telling you how it is. That’s not too hard to figure out, is it?” Harry scoffed.

The second girl, Morag (?), snarled at him, “Show yourself, whoever you are. You better let us go. You’re going to be in so much trouble when we get out of here.”

The rather pretty looking Indian girl (Padma?) started to tremble a bit at the threat of Harry being an unknown intruder in their midst. “Just leave us alone. Go away and we won’t say anything. Just go!”

Harry snorted and let his invisibility drop. He scrutinized the three of them scornfully and cocked an eyebrow. “Know me now?”

“You’re that American transfer… why in Merlin’s name are you doing this?” Morag screeched.

“Huh, well, you went and annoyed me, so I thought I would gather us all together for a little chat. I’ve heard some distressing things. Things that I certainly hope aren’t true. But, I guess we’ll see,” Harry shrugged indifferently.

“What are you talking about? Distressing things? We don’t even know you!” Cho squawked.

Harry glowered at them. “True, maybe you don’t know me, but you sure as hell fuckin’ know my friend. And she said that some asshole Ravens and a Weasel treated her like crap ‘n stole some of her shit. And me… well, I don’t like thieves. And I really fuckin’ HATE bullies.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve got the wrong people,” Padma whimpered as she shook even more violently in fear.

Harry hummed in thought while he tapped his chin and observed the girls stuck to their chairs. He leaned into Padma’s face and growled, “Where… the… fuck… are Luna’s things?”

Morag snorted incredulously. “This is about Loony?? Why would you even care about that crazy bint?”

Harry turned his head to look at Morag and narrowed his eyes. “Not sure what a ‘bint’ is, but it sounds shitty so don't fuckin' call her that.” He turned back to Padma and pointed his wand at her forehead. “Where are her fuckin’ things? Tell me!”

Padma started stuttering, “I..I… don…uh.”

“T-T-T-TODAY JR.!” Harry yelled in her face.

“STOP IT!!” Padma screamed, before bursting into tears, mumbling incoherently.

Sigh, he hadn’t even done anything fun yet. Jesus Christ, she broke easily. Ah, well, bummer. Time to move on! He moved over to where Cho sat and tapped his wand on her nose while she valiantly tried to avoid being hit.

“You’re next, bitch. Where the fuck are Luna’s things? Don’t make me get all creative in finding out where they are. You won’t like me when I’m creative,” Harry said with an evil smirk.

“Stay away from me! You’re insane! We’ve done nothing wrong, and besides… it’s just Loony. She thinks ‘Nargles’ stole her precious things!” Cho hollered.

Harry sighed in frustration. This was getting him nowhere. He bent down and grabbed his switchblade from his boot and popped it open. “See this? I much prefer using this than hurting people with magic. It’s more personal, you know. Just like you stealing my friend’s shoes and things was personal. So, for every single thing that she has missing… I’ll just cut a little personal piece out of you.”

Cho leaned back in the chair whimpering, while Padma’s cries increased in volume. Morag had begun to string together a litany of interesting wizarding swear words. (He would have to share some of them with Sirius next time they talked.)

He sent a binding spell her way so that she would stop fuckin’ wriggling in the chair. (Huh, maybe having a little magic in this session wasn’t such a bad thing after all.) He grabbed her arm and pushed up the sleeve of her robe. On her bicep he slowly carved down one line, over one line. He left a small space between his first carved letter, then he drew down another long line and over for the last line. Stepping back from her bloody arm, he admired the ‘LL’ that he had drawn into her skin.

Giving his fingers a chef’s kiss, he nodded at Cho. She had started crying the moment his knife touched her skin, but that didn’t bother him one bit.

“There... beautiful. Bellissima. Her name is Luna Lovegood. Since you’re so obsessed with her, I gave you a ‘L’ ‘n fuckin’ ‘L’. You’ll get to keep her initials on you forever to remind you of how bad an idea it is every time you want to treat her like shit. Don’t worry, I’ll inject it with a little of my magic so that only the four of us will ever know about it or see it.”

He looked at the other two girls and bared his teeth vindictively. “You two don’t need to feel left out, either. I’ll give you the same pretty brand. Oh! And I’ll even make it prettier for all of you. I know that you all must love the color purple… since you fuckin’ stole my friend’s purple quill, so I’ll inject the purple in all the cuts. It will look like a muggle tattoo, or brand, or really cool purplish scar or whatever! How awesome for you! I’m really almost jealous that you bitches get to walk away from this with something so fuckin’ neat.”

Ignoring the tears and whimpering, he gave the other two girls the same ‘LL’ on their shoulders, giving all of them a lovely (slightly bloody) purple brand to honor his friend.

The girls were still crying and lamenting the initials on their arms when he demanded again, “Okay, now, anyone feel like telling me where the fuck my friend’s shit is?”

Morag glared at him through her tears. “It’s in the astronomy tower, hanging off the outside. Merlin! Heal us and go away! We’ll leave Loony alone!!!”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the three girls and raised his wand. “Her… name… is… LUNA!” He intoned crucio for a few seconds on each girl to drive his point home. By this time, the three of them were a quivering mass of whimpers.

Looking at the three girls with disdain, Harry sneered again. “Leave her alone. Leave her shit alone. Forget you even fuckin’ know her. If you don’t, well let’s just say a little fuckin’ tattoo will be the least of your problems. Your seats will let you go in ½ hour. I’d heal you before I go, but I don’t have enough fucks left to give for your pain."

He stopped, tilted his head in thought and pulled his pockets inside out as if looking for something. Shaking his head, he put them back the right way. He looked back at the girls and snarled, "Nope, as you can see, I'm fresh out. Not one fuck left at all. Heal yourselves. Your wands are on the desk over there. See? I’m fuckin’ nice enough to return them to you. If you see me or Luna ‘round school, turn the other way. You’re fuckin’ trash. You assholes are perfect examples of why I kill people.”

Ignoring their continued cries, Harry unlocked the door (leaving the silencing and secret wards in place) and walked out toward the astronomy tower.

- Ravenclaw Tower -

After he found her ‘treasures’, Harry walked to the Ravenclaw common room and politely asked the portrait to get Luna for him. A moment later she appeared.

“Hello, Scourge,” she beamed at him.

“Hey, Moonbeam. I found some mischievous Nargles. Had a nice... chat. They felt real bad about causing you any trouble so they gave me back all your stuff. They shouldn’t bother you again, but you be sure to tell me right away if they do.”

Luna hopped with glee as she took her shoes, socks, earrings and quill back from him. “Oh, thank you, Scourge! You are such a wonderful friend!” She leapt forward and quickly enveloped him in a hug. (He was starting to get used to them, almost.)

“No worries Moon, just point me in the direction of any Nargle that bothers you, and I’ll take care of ‘em,” Harry chuckled with a slight blush on his cheeks.

Chapter Text

“No worries Moon, just point me in the direction of any Nargle that bothers you, and I’ll take care of ‘em,” Harry chuckled with a slight blush on his cheeks.

- Tuesday, October 14^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Hogwarts -

Even though Dumbledore tried every tactic possible to keep 'Henry Castiglione' too busy to attend his first Wizengamot, Harry was eventually given the day off of classes so that he could attend the session in the middle of the month. He was actually looking forward to seeing Tom and annoying the shit out of Dumbledore through politics. (Yes, Lucy, even though it wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, he really did pay attention through some of those lessons.)

Miyagi
—————

(Scourge) 23:13

court tmmrw

(Miyagi) 23:15

im disappointed u got caught

(Miyagi) 23:16

thought i taught u to stay away from cops

(Scourge) 23:17

vry fnny frank

(Miyagi) 23:18

i thot so

(Miyagi) 23:18

u prepared?

(Scourge) 23:19

thnk so tom wll b thre

(Miyagi) 23:20

youll do great vinny bag'o donuts

(Scourge) 23:22

ya thnk

(Miyagi) 23:22

yeah kid youll be fine

(Miyagi) 23:23

let me know how it goes

(Scourge) 23:24

will do l8trs

- Wednesday, October 15^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- October's Wizengamot Session, Ministry of Magic -

Tom picked him up at the gates of Hogwarts, wearing his pretty ‘going out in public’ disguise. They apparated from there to the entrance of the Ministry of Magic. Tom huffed in annoyance at the sheer ridiculousness of the method of entry, as he lifted the phone in the abandoned red telephone box and dialed ‘62442’ in order to gain entrance. Their badges popped through the slot, proclaiming him ‘Lord H. Castiglione - Wizengamot Member’, and they entered the building. (Harry wished that Tom would have allowed him to get the real version of the badge that he wanted: 'Scourge - Fucker Upper of Dumbleass', but Tom was being lame. Quelle surprise.⁽¹⁾)

Walking down the halls toward the chambers where Wizengamot was being held, Harry noticed many wizards and witches that he was familiar with through Death Eater meetings. Making sure to remain in his subdued and proper ‘Lord’ mentality, he gave polite nods and murmured ‘hellos’. Tom steered him toward the door of the council, and he waited at the entrance, off to the side and out of sight. He would need to stay out of the room until the meeting officially started. In order to actually claim his seat, he would have to be magically accepted into his seat. Only then he would be able to cast his votes.

He watched the heads of the Houses of the Sacred 28 as well as other Houses that had votes, both dark and light, walk into Wizengamot, carrying on hushed conversations amongst themselves. Most of them were dressed in their formal plum colored robes with odd hats that looked like Toques on their heads.⁽²⁾ Others were dressed in black robes with the same style of hat. The robe was a show of rank within the Wizengamot. Harry was wearing his dress robes, since he had not officially been sworn into the council. Tom did not get to wear the plum robes either because he was not an actual member, only acting for one.

Harry scrutinized Dumbledore the most. He brought up the rear of the group of wizards and witches. His grandfatherly fake-ass personality was in full swing as he greeted people and twinkled his eyes. He ensured that he made eye contact with all of those he considered ‘Light’ and worthy of his attention, murmuring the importance of certain items that were being brought before the court today. He looked around, searching the corridors before continuing into the room. Harry assumed that he was looking to see if the new Lord Castiglione showed up to finally join the Wizengamot. Dumbledore gave a smug little smile before twinkling his eyes once again and entering the council room. The doors finally closed.

Tom leaned over to Harry and reminded him of the procedures that would happen once they entered. “You will enter. The Chief Warlock will ask if there are any additions or losses to the Wizengamot membership. At that time, you will walk forward and declare yourself as ‘Lord Henry Castiglione’, claiming both the Potter seats and the Castiglione seat… which we know doesn’t really exist except through Gringotts. Then, since you are still in school and claiming me as guardian, we will both take our seats in the Dark area. I have instructed Lord Lestrange and Lord Rosier to save seats in the area for us to join them.”

Harry nodded in understanding and waited for the signal for them to enter. It took a few minutes for them to be called. He assumed that it was because they were allowing time for the Wizengamot to actually sit down, and maybe for Lucy to gloat once again that he had Chief Warlock status over Dumbledore. Who knew? Either way, they were finally called, and Harry was allowed to walk through the doors with Tom on his heels.

Lucy sat in the middle of the Wizengamot, high above the floor on behind a podium. The rest of the members were at the sides of him, imposing looking in their colored robes and stern faces.

“Is there any business regarding the gain or loss of any Wizengamot members today, the fifteenth of October, year nineteen hundred and ninety-seven?” Lucy’s voice rang out through the chamber.

Harry stepped forward and said calmly in response, “I will come forth and claim my seats.”

Murmurs arose as he walked toward the podium and stood before Lucy. Although Lucy’s face never changed from his impassive ‘Malfoy’ mask, Harry did see a small twinkle of pleasure in his eyes.

“And what seats are you to claim, young wizard?”

“Chief Warlock, members of Wizengamot,” he nodded out at the audience, “I am claiming the seats for the House of Castiglione, as well as the affiliated House of Potter. In all, I will be claiming two seats along with my seventeen votes, Chief Warlock Malfoy,” Harry proclaimed.

Small gasps and grumbles went through the crowd and Dumbledore narrowed his eyes slightly, the damned twinkle finally dimming. The court scribe, another ginger wizard (probably a fuckin’ Weasley) wrote furiously as the comments flew throughout the room. Eventually Lucy banged his gavel and ordered everyone to quiet so that they might continue.

Dumbledore blustered at the sight of Harry, even though he knew he would be there. (Apparently, he just had to put on a show for his people. Ever the drama queen, no wonder he and Tom were against each other – there can be only one, after all.) He rose from his seat and raised his wand into the air so that Lucy might acknowledge him to speak in Wizengamot. Lucy nodded and told him to speak.

“Wizards and Witches, Lords and Ladies, esteemed members of Wizengamot, I would like to recommend that before we allow this young man into our midst that he prove without a shadow of a doubt that he is even authorized to use the House of Potter votes. He has been using his proxy until now to ‘vote legally’ with the Potter seat, however I maintain that their House had no relative with the name Castiglione. I also would like to point out that the child in question, although seventeen, is still in school and should not be here while he is still receiving his education. It is my opinion, as well as that of the Light, that those who are under a certain age should not shoulder such responsibility as making decisions for the wizarding world. For that matter, until he is completely vetted, any and all votes made by his proxy for the past year should be stricken from the record and recounted,” Dumbledore declared sagely, nodding at ‘important’ points to emphasize them.

Harry felt slimy magic wash over him during certain words and phrases. He realized that Dumbledore was using subliminal suggestions, pushing magic out into the Wizengamot council in order to make them trust him more. He had to wonder if others could feel it, and why there weren’t wards to prevent it from happening.

“Excuse me, Chief Warlock, I do have a question before we continue with discussing my ability to take my seats,” Harry interrupted as respectfully as he could. (Trying not to gag over the nasty feel of Dumbledore’s magic and trying to tamp down the anger he was feeling over the fact that the man was so blatantly manipulating the wizarding populace.)

Lucius looked at him and said, “You have the floor, Lord Castiglione.”

“Thank you. I have not been in the British wizarding world long, however, I do have some idea of the way things should be done in a court of law. At no time have I been informed that someone’s magic would be authorized to be used as a ‘calming and suggestive’ force inside the proceedings,” he insinuated shrewdly, avoiding eye contact with Dumbledore so as not to make it known who he was talking about.

“What? What are you talking about, sir?” One of the wizards, a Lord Abbot who was sat on the side of Lucius asked. The rest Wizengamot had begun to whisper and murmur amongst themselves over Harry’s question.

Lord Bulstrode also declared emphatically, “No one should be allowed to do such a heinous thing in this magical court. How could that even be?”

Harry glanced around at all the members before facing Lucy again. “I am one who is empathetic to magic, Chief Warlock. I felt a push of an unknown magic in the room when our esteemed Headmaster Dumbledore’s speech was being said. I know, after having met the man and discussed many things with him, that he would never do anything so untoward as forcefully manipulating any wizard with his magic. However, I worry that someone might be attempting to subvert him in some way. I do so worry about his reputation with those odd articles coming out. It just wouldn’t do for anyone to think ill of him.” He chuckled to himself. He might be laying it on a little thick, but, hey, it was all a fuckin’ play and he was doin’ his very best acting job ever.

Lucy banged his gavel again, trying to get quiet throughout the vast chamber. They finally calmed after Amelia Bones and Lady Longbottom demanded that the Unspeakables come and ensure that the session was not compromised.

Harry chanced a peek at Dumbledore who had intermittently glared in his direction and attempted to soothe the crowd. He kept trying to cajole the Light wizards into believing that this whole issue was merely a fluke. Nothing bad had happened. Wizengamot was a completely safe place to be, and no one would dare use their magic against the members.

What a great fuckin’ leader he was, Harry chuckled. It was decided that a recess would be taken so that the Unspeakables could do their work, and then the Wizengamot could continue afterwards.

They said the signature of the magic was untraceable. (Fuckin’ liars, the lot of ‘em. They had to be Order members who would back Dumbledore’s every move, up to and including wiping the man’s ass.) However! They did have to bring in other Unspeakable warders who set up stricter wards against the use of unauthorized magic within the chamber. So, Harry figured it was at least a small victory.

Wizengamot got back underway with a more frustrated Dumbledore sitting back in his chair and a smug Tom standing behind Harry as he awaited joining the council. He addressed the concerns regarding his legitimate claims toward the Castiglione and Potter. A member of Gringotts (hi Ragnok!) was brought in to prove the validity of his bloodline, his ability to claim the Potter seat and the fact that he was who he said he was. (Yep, he should probably send Ragnok a fruit basket or somethin’. Do goblins even eat fruit? Or do they just eat the still-beating hearts of their enemies? Huh. Harry would have a harder time putting together a gift basket of still-beating hearts, but maybe Tom could help.)

Dumbledore’s mouth had formed a stiff white line during the process of him getting sworn into Wizengamot. His eyes were not twinkling. He continually narrowed his eyes in Harry’s direction, probably trying to send his magic over to where they sat so it would make Harry follow his directions. Too bad, asshole, the wards seemed to actually be working.

They brought forth the first few new laws to be voted on. Nothing seemed too exciting to Harry. He tried to stay mentally engaged. Luckily, he had Tom there to make sure he knew what was going on and could vote accordingly.

It’s not like he couldn’t make the decisions by himself… he just didn’t really care if it didn’t involve a legitimate fight. This passive fighting was a bit too slow. He understood the reasoning. It was just… boring. The only thing keeping him occupied was watching the tick in Dumbledore’s cheek every time the Light side lost a vote to the Dark. Yes, that was the only thing that made this stupid circus of demented monkeys not a waste of time in Harry’s eyes.

Tom, bless his evil little shriveled heart, was showing as much enjoyment as Harry had seen to date. He loved bringing Dumbledore down a peg in the public eye. In Tom’s view, he hated the man as much as Harry did, but he was happy to do things a little less violently than Harry. (Which was strange considering everyone thought that Lord Voldemort was the evil and violent one. Ha! They hadn’t even scratched the surface of Scourge’s violence yet.) Tom really just wanted to make sure that laws were passed to help bring about changes in the whole wizarding world. He was so thrilled to finally be pushing his agenda forward. And with Harry’s votes he was able to actually work with the system even more, helping to push the asshole of a ‘Headmaster’ out of Wizengamot.

Toward the end of the session, a new law regarding the requirement of wizarding education being expanded for muggleborns was brought before Wizengamot. It was backed by Lucy, the Dark wizards on the Board of Governors as well as the rest of the Dark faction. They believed that those who were entering into their world should have to take mandatory classes to integrate and learn their ways of life.

Dumbledore, to put it mildly, did not agree with them. He considered learning about the old ways a blatantly ‘Dark’ way of thinking. He figured that if the new witches and wizards were to join in those sorts of celebrations, then they would most assuredly lean toward Dark and evil magic, shunning the Light side.

Basically, the man was a senile moron.

“I do not believe that we should focus on these things for our children. They should, instead, be guided toward living a life more open to the muggle ways. We should all open our minds and hearts to accepting them as they are. That, after all, is why we have Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, so that those purebloods and halfbloods will be able to understand these new students.” Dumbledore took a deep breath and affected his most disappointed grandfatherly face. “We must embrace tolerance, not enforce a division from the world that they have known for years.”

Yeaahhhh, ok there. Even Harry could understand the need to learn about a new place you were going to live in. Look at him, he took a whole year of immersive study to figure out this place and its customs so that he didn’t offend someone. He would think that Dumbledore would want to give his favorite people, those bright and new students, separated from their families and easiest to grab ahold of and mold, a little more preparation to deal with what they have entered into.

But, Harry guessed, that was the whole reason behind wanting to keep them ignorant… he got to shepherd them. He made them rely on him and him alone. Dumbledore forced them look only to him for the answers.

Welp. No. Harry wasn’t a speaker or anything, but he could help Tom and the ‘little people’ out here. He raised his wand after Dumblefuck was done and was immediately recognized by Lucy.

“Thank you, Chief Warlock. I would like to say, as one who came into your world just this year, that I would greatly benefit from a course such as this. I have my own magical education from where I came, but to know your history and traditions could only help me be a better Lord in Wizengamot and leader in the wizarding world as I grow. I back this motion with both the Castiglione and Potter seats,” he declared compellingly and clearly into the quiet room.

Dumbledore’s eye twitch had doubled. He raised his wand to be heard again and was granted the floor. He faced Harry and said, “You did not know the Potters, child. You do not know what they would have wanted. They were a family who wanted to embrace the muggleborns and not want them to change their ways of life. They wanted tolerance, not pureblood ideals. They supported the Light, not these Dark ideals. They would be most disappointed that you were even considering this, my boy.”

Harry almost felt his eye twitch at the use of the term ‘my boy’, but he merely nodded (slightly condescendingly) at Dumbledore before he was allowed to give his rebuttal. “Well, Mr. Dumbledore, since the family is not here to discuss these issues and I am, I will vote how I please. I maintain that knowing the history and traditions of the world you live in is very important. Although everyone need not embrace them, knowing them is a must. I will uphold my backing of this motion.”

Lord Carrow called out a ‘Seconded’ and Lucy brought it to a vote. Much to Tom’s joy and Dumbledore’s ire, it passed 27 to 19, with 4 abstains.

Yay!

Miyagi
—————

(Scourge) 18:36

dumfuk lost 2day

(Scourge) 18:36

u shld hve seen his eye twtch lol

(Miyagi) 18:38

see u can love politics

(Miyagi) 18:39

everything went ok then?

(Scourge) 18:41

ya tom ws in hevn

(Miyagi) 18:41

drama queen

(Miyagi) 18:42

proud of u

(Scourge) 18:43

thx i actd all prpr n shit

(Miyagi) 18:45

probably hardest mission ever if u had to act n look presentable

(Scourge) 18:46

╭∩╮(Ο_Ο)╭∩╮

(Miyagi) 18:47

snort pretty art there kid

(Miyagi) 18:47

stay safe see u soon ill let u know a time to b ready

(Scourge) 18:50

my gear is redy n cnt w8 2 go

Chapter Text

my gear is redy n cnt w8 2 go

- 16:00 on October 31^st, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Hogwarts -

Harry was at the end of his rope with these assholes. He had one bossy-ass girl trying to get his whole life scheduled, talking down to him constantly, and spouting the never ending praises of their esteemed Headmaster. (Ugh, she was so far up the man’s ass it’s a wonder she was able to breathe.) Hermione kept telling him how much better her way was. How much better it was to fall in line with the teachings of the Great Albus Dumbledore.

He had to wonder if these people had ever heard of Jim Jones.⁽¹⁾ They were certainly brainwashed like those poor dead bastards. (And Harry was not goin’ to be drinking the fukin’ Koolaid, that’s for sure!)

Neville, another poor bastard. They had pretty much tortured him to the point that he had changed from a normal teenage kid to a timid shell of a human being. Harry felt for him. He really did. He knew what it was like to be abused and to be looked down upon. If Frank hadn’t come along and saved his ass, who knew where he would be now. But, Harry couldn’t just stop everything he was planning to do here just to save one kid. Harry wasn’t some fuckin’ hero or anything. Sure, Neville was going to be saved through Harry’s actions, he just needed to hang in there a bit more. Sometimes Harry considered bringing the shy boy into his confidence, but decided against it every time. (“The more people that know a secret, the more people can tell a secret. Keep it to yourself, kid.”)

So, no. He would stick to helping the kid out behind the scenes. He would end up fixing Neville’s problems… just without the kid’s knowledge. Look at him go! Super-secret ninja savior!!

The one that Harry was having the most trouble trying not to kill was Ron. The absolute trash-hole of a human being was lazy, loud, brash, annoying, stuck-up, prejudice as all fuck, entitled and everything that Harry hated. It made the whole situation worse when he would whine about his lack of money and then side-eye Harry in hopes that Harry might feel sorry for him and give him some. (Really?? When in the history of ever has that worked for the kid?) At least that’s what Harry assumed Ron wanted. There was only so much more time around the jerk that Harry would be able to handle before he started working on the Weasley family tree… and by ‘working on it’ he meant taking it the fuck out.

The first Weasley to go, however, would be that ‘bint’ of a sister, Ginerva. (Thank you Morag for the new word!) She was beyond fuckin’ annoying. Harry had taken to testing every food and drink item that was placed before him. She must have a never-fuckin’-ending supply of Amortentia in her robes. Jesus H. Christ on a crutch.

Every time she was around, something of his was dosed. Severus, bless his grumpy and dour soul, had provided him with the spells for detection and some love potion antidote.

Harry had given some of his spiked food to Ron, just to see what would happen, and oh holy shit!! Ick, ick, ick! That was a picture that he would never get out of his head. Although, it was stupid funny to watch Ginerva trying to avoid being attacked passionately by her brother. Eventually, he was taken to Madam Pomfrey who got the antidote from Severus… alas, all good (and decidedly gross) things must come to an end.

Either way, she was going to be the first Weasel to go. He couldn’t be wasting his allotted vengeance time trying to avoid her touches. (Hello… is sexual harassment even a thing in the wizarding world???) Or trying to avoid potions, avoid her simpering and batting eyelashes, and frankly avoid throwing up around her disgusting perfume. Basically… he was done. And! She was a Weasley. Win-win.

But first, Frank and Wade had planned a little night adventure to mark the anniversary of his biological parent’s deaths. (They always get him the best presents.)

- 21:00 on October 31^st, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Mrs. Arabella Figg’s House, Little Whinging -

Thanks again to the wonderful Polyjuice acting of Barty Crouch Jr., Harry was currently ‘enjoying himself at the Hogwarts Halloween Celebration’. Dumbledore had completely disregarded the Wizengamot ruling that he had to include a Samhain celebration for the students to attend, but Harry knew that some of the old families’ children were celebrating in their own way. ‘He’ however was showing face with Luna-beam at the school’s main celebration in the Great Hall. (She was quickly becoming his absolute favorite partner in crime - aside from Frank and Wade) Harry kind of wondered how it was going, since he wasn’t really there and all. He would have to get the run down from Barty later. See if he made an ass of himself.

Ignoring the curiosity about what was happening at Hogwarts right then, Harry focused on where he was at that moment - standing outside a house on Wisteria Walk that one Arabella Figg resided in. Frank and Wade were meeting him there. After he had escaped through the tunnels and apparated over, he waited on the side of the house, out of line of sight and in the shadows. It was time for some father/son/crazy-ass-sidekick bonding. (No, Wade… not bondage. Get your mind out of the gutter!)

“Mini Scourge! Welcome to the party, pal! It has been too long, mi sombrero! Mi chimichanga! My tiny enchilada! My life is a dark abyss without your rapier wit and love of junk food to keep me sane. I have had to make do hanging out with Logan ‘Don’t Touch My Claws or I’ll Kill You’ Howlett and Mr. Frank ‘Look at Me Wrong and I’ll Kill You’ Castle. Believe me, Baby Menacing Marvel… I’ve died a LOT!” Wade cried on Harry’s shoulder when he saw him.

Harry chuckled and patted Wade on the head. “Don’t worry, Dead. We’ll try not to kill you tonight.” He turned and glanced at Frank who had just walked up, “Right, Frank?”

“Not promisin’ anythin’. If he turns into more of an annoyin’ asshole than usual, he gets what he gets,” Frank grumbled.

Yep, Harry had missed these guys, he thought with a huge grin.

The TV was on inside the house, and the smell of cat piss surrounded the area. It brought back nauseating memories for Harry from every time he came over to stay with this woman. He had some serious feline PTSD from that smell. Harry was just glad his animagus form wasn’t a damn cat… he probably would have just never transformed.

They made their way through an open window. (Seriously, people needed to be more cognizant of their surroundings and security. There are bad guys out there who could take advantage!!) The cat piss smell only increased inside the house. There were dozens of cats milling around the home, pausing to look at the three men who had entered, then going on their merry cat ways.

Wade wrinkled his nose behind his mask and waved his hand in front of it. “Holy guacamole! This woman gives ‘crazy cat lady’ a bad name! I mean, I’m lonely, but I’m not ‘get twenty fucking cats and have them take over my house’ lonely. Cripes!”

Harry snorted, then regretted it immediately because the smell invaded his nostrils twice as bad. Even Frank, ever the stoic and quiet ex-Marine, brought his gloved hand up to his nose to block some of the smell. Which is saying something… he and Harry had done dozens of torture interrogations where someone lost control of their bladder. Or had gone on missions where the smell was horrible due to sewage, the smell of some third world countries, and even the bad rotten egg smell coming from a chicken factory they had to infiltrate that one time. (Don't ask. Needless to say, Harry was put off chicken for quite a few weeks afterwards.) Either way, they had been in some rank-ass places. To have to wrinkle their noses to block out the smell here was definitely a sign that this woman was not taking care of her animals.

Which, since she was tasked with taking care of Harry so many years ago, he wasn’t too surprised. She sucked at taking care him just like she sucked at taking care of four-legged living things too.

They found her sitting in her recliner, watching the BBC One re-airing of the Clive Anderson interview with the Bee Gees from the night earlier. Apparently, the Bee Gees were getting pissed at the man. Harry thought they looked like they were ready to wring his neck. He would have liked to watch the show, but he had things to do.

Sigh, priorities.

Frank passed him his favorite garrote and Wade drew one of his katanas. Harry slowly moved to where Mrs. Figg sat, slid the garrote over her head, and pulled tight. She immediately attempted to scream and fight her way out of it, but Harry was too strong for the tiny older woman. He held her there for a while, letting her fight to get a breath. Then, he released a bit of the tension on the wire.

She gasped out in pain and terror before he pulled the wire tight one more time. He could see her face turning a lovely shade of purple in the light of the television. Finally releasing her, he passed the garrote back to Frank and walked around to the front of her chair.

“Thirty minutes and counting, kid. Make it good,” Frank ordered.

Wade bounced on his toes and grinned through his mask. “OOooh, there’s so much you can do in thirty minutes! Watch an episode of the Simpsons… I recommend Treehouse of Horror from Season 2. The Raven is just primo in that. Oh! You can order and eat a whole pizza. You can bake cupcakes, my favorite are the funfetti ones, if you are making them for me… with chocolate frosting. Or, in our case, you can spend the entire time torturing a little old evil lady who helped enable the abusers of the Mini-est Babiest Scourge in all the land!!”

Harry laughed while Frank glared at Wade to shut him up.

“Thanks, Wade. Let’s go with the last option.”

Harry looked over at Mrs. Figg who had adopted a mask of sheer terror on her face as she watched their byplay. The ugly red line that had formed from the garrote around her neck was turning a sickly purple. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were we ignoring you, Mrs. Figg? My bad.”

“Who are you?” She asked hoarsely, grating out each word as if it was a massive fight to get it past her vocal cords.

“Nah, I don’t have time for the whole back-story on this one. Do I Frank?” Harry said as he glanced over at Frank who was watching out the window for anyone who came along to interrupt them.

He paused his surveillance and shook his head minutely, “No, just do it and go. If you want to wax fuckin’ poetic while you’re doing it… go ahead. I’m not gonna stop you. Fuck, you could sing the National fuckin’ Anthem for all I care. Just fuckin’ work while you’re yappin.”

Harry snorted at the man he called dad. He certainly had a poetic way with words. Looking back at Mrs. Figg he smiled ruefully, “Sorry. I’ll explain while we do this, then. It’s a lot more fun if we have a back and forth, but time crunch and all. You understand.”

Wade chuckled behind the mask and asked, “Where do you want me to start?”

Harry flipped open his switchblade and advanced on the woman in the chair, who at this point had realized that something very bad was happening and had dissolved into hiccoughing tears. He slipped his wand out and quickly sent a body bind on her so that she wouldn’t move but could hear and see all that was going to happen.

Cutting up her sleeve, he opened the arm of her shirt. He did the same to the other side. He cut down the legs of her pajama pants, from the knee down. Wade profusely mumbled his thanks under his breath for not revealing any of the lady’s shriveled naughty bits, citing the potential to be scarred for life. (Ha! Scarred… Wade… get it?)

Mrs. Figg’s whimpers could still be heard through her frozen mouth, but nothing moved. (Yay body bind!) Harry turned to Wade and motioned him over.

“Ok, you take left, I’ll take right. I figure we do about three-inch cross cuts, one inch away from each other. Open them as much as you can, but make sure not to go too deep. We don’t want her to bleed out or anything. We want her to enjoy this. Just like we’re making sure that the little kitties enjoy their snack.”

Wade made beautiful hatch marks with his katanas, up and down her leg and around her arm. Harry did the same on his side. Frank grunted at them to hurry their asses up because they only had twenty minutes left.

Harry stepped back to check their work. Seated in the chair still, the woman’s arms and legs were completely covered in blood. Beautiful cross marks littered her skin, each one painstakingly done even with the time crunch. (“If you’re going to do something, kid, do it right the first time. It’s a fuckin’ bitch to have to come back and do it all over again.”)

“Well, Mrs. Figg. You might be wondering why we’ve come to visit you on this most wonderful of nights. It is, after all, one of my very, most important-est anniversaries. It’s the day that I got turned into…” he spun around in a small circle, letting his dragonhide cloak twirl and his guns and knives be displayed for the woman in the chair, “THIS!! You see, you helped turn me into this. Whether you wanted to or not, you followed that great fake of a Fuckledore and fell in line with the bullshit he was preaching. You helped me stay in a fuckin’ house where they hit me, starved me, berated me, kept me in a fuckin’ cupboard, and made me work my hands to the fuckin’ bone. Every... fuckin’... day.”

Harry leaned into Mrs. Figg’s face and twitched his fingers to allow her to speak, first putting a finger to her lips. “Just so you know, I’ve silenced the area around us. You can scream, but we’re short on time as it is, so choose your words wisely if you would like some answers.”

“Who?” She gasped out, obviously in massive pain from the multitude of cuts all over her body. “Who are you? I’ve…I’ve d..done nothing to deserve this. Nothing t..to you.”

Harry stood back and raised one brow at her. He looked at Frank, then at Wade, then back at her incredulously. “Are you shittin’ me? You fucked me over by ignorin’ what was happening in that house. You were put here to watch me and make sure I was okay! Newsflash, asshole, I wasn’t okay. I really wasn't fuckin' okay. I was starving and abused. You saw it. You knew it. And you were paid to ignore it. Paid out of my fuckin’ trust vault, no less.”

“Fifteen minutes. Wrap it up, kid.”

Harry sighed and ran his hand down his face before looking her dead in the eye. “Okay, let me ‘splain... No, there is too much. Let me sum up.”

“OOOhhh, nice one there, Scourge. Always bring it back to Inigo Montoya when dealing with the ultimate revenge,” Wade cackled.

Harry snorted at him then looked back at Mrs. Figg. “I’m Harry Potter. I’m a wizard who grew up in this neighborhood, hidden away from my kind. Abandoned to live a horrible life with abusive relatives. You are a squib. You knew all about me. You stole money, through Dumbleass, from my trust vault to ‘watch over me’ as I was growing up. You did a shitty job. I got hurt every day. You didn’t give a fuck about anything except for your cats. I don’t even like cats. You and your house smell like cat piss. And Jesus fuck, woman!!! Twenty-five fuckin’ cats is way too many! I hope animal control takes them after they eat you for dinner.”

Mrs. Figg’s eyes had grown larger and larger as he spoke. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she tried to protest what he was saying.

Frank interrupted with a terse, “Ten minutes. Finish it the fuck up.”

Harry shrugged and said, “Welp, that’s my cue. I’m gonna silence you again. Don’t really wanna listen to you bitch about the fact that your precious little babies are gonna have you for dinner. I’d say sorry, but I’m not.”

He spread out his hands and allowed his magic to wash over the house, whispering feles fames, comedent tuus⁽²⁾ and drawing small runes in the air. The cats in the house quickly perked up and walked toward the living room where their master sat petrified in her chair, bleeding profusely from all the cuts that Harry and Wade had made. There had to be at least twenty or more cats in this lady's house. They climbed all over her chair and started in on the areas on her body that were already cut open, tearing with their tiny fangs and clawing her skin open even more. On her neck, where the garrote had been applied earlier, was scratched until it too opened and started to bleed. Her eyes were wide and terrified as she was swarmed by her ‘most precious babies’. The sounds of wet flesh being nibbled and devoured filled the room.

Wade looked almost nauseous watching the cats eat the woman. (If a red mask could turn green, it would have.) “Seriously, Scourge... the author was just plain nasty with this one. Death by cats? Meow!”

Frank merely watched the scene with one eyebrow cocked. (Way to be expressive there, Frank.)

And Harry? Well he thought it was poetic fuckin’ justice that the woman, who cared so much for these animals instead of a small boy, was literally giving her life for them.

Even after all that the cats had done to her bloody body, she was somehow still breathing. Her body was ravaged by animal bites, flesh tears, and claw marks. Her face was frozen in horror from when he had put her in a body bind. The cats were intermittently licking the blood off their paws and going back for more bites of flesh.

It was enough. He had seen enough. Besides, they needed to leave soon, as Frank quickly reminded him.

Harry took out his pistol, aimed it for her forehead and whispered, “Two down,” then pulled the trigger. Grabbing his casing and clearing the room of evidence, he nodded to Frank and Wade.

It was done.

- 22:00-ish on October 31^st, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Halloween Celebration, Hogwarts -

The three men quickly left the house and headed to the safehouse so that they could shower off the absolute stench of the woman and her cats. Harry received a massive hug from Wade and a pat on the shoulder from Frank before he apparated back to Hogwarts.

He met up with Barty at their previously determined exchange location. Barty was thrilled to recount the past hour of Hogwarts revelry he had experienced with Luna, probably because he missed his school days. Harry was happy to give him the chance to come back every once in a while, even though it was with a different face.

Harry went out to the Halloween Celebration and met up with Moonbeam. She glanced up when he walked over and sent him a knowing look. When he sat next to her, she tucked her arm through his and leaned into his shoulder. She beamed up at him while interlacing their fingers, before whispering to him in a sing-song voice:

He smiled back down at her and hummed in happiness, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. What a good anniversary this had turned out to be.

What a bad day this was turning out to be for Albus Dumbledore. There was no amount of magic twinkle left in his eyes right then. He was nursing a horrible headache that would take all the lemon drops in the world to cure. Sitting at his desk he let his head droop a little while he massaged his temples. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

The aurors had come that morning to inform him that Mrs. Figg was dead. Another one of his people was dead. And not just dead, murdered. Violently. With muggle methods this time. (And cat methods, but that was probably just them going crazy after their master had been killed.) Another person who had ties to his little Harry Potter conspiracy was removed from the equation. He was not too sad that the woman had died. She had lived a long life, for a squib. She had served her purpose. And, she had taken her secrets to the grave, thank Merlin.

No, Albus was more anxious than anything. Sure, he was putting on a sad front for the members of the Order who knew what Arabella had done for Harry. (Or thought they knew.) But someone else out there knew what had really happened to that boy. Someone else knew. They had to know, otherwise why would they be doing all of this? And, if that was the case, they were coming for him soon too.

It had to be the muggles who killed the Dursleys all those years ago. But what would make them start the fight again a decade later? What would make them wait… and then come back? And who was next? Oh, this was very, very worrying.

No, Albus was not having a good day.

Chapter Text

What a good anniversary this had turned out to be.

- Afternoon of November 7^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Hogwarts Grounds, Near Black Lake -

Luna and Harry walked over by the lake to escape the annoyances that were the Gryffindors and most of the Slytherins. Luna was just happy that her Nargles hadn’t been bothering her lately.

He was happy she was being left alone, but he was itching for some more action. So, in that way, he almost missed the fact that there weren't more people to deal with for her. Although, it did mean that he could maintain his focus on his list.

They planted themselves down on a blanket with their schoolbooks and Harry sent out a warming charm to surround them. (It’s not like Harry was really going to study, really.) It was getting to be winter in Scotland and he was not happy with the weather. The gray. The 46°F brisk day. The wind. The clouds. It all wrapped around the two of them while they tried to get some peace and quiet.

“Who is next on the list, Scourge?” Luna asked dreamily.

Harry had given up trying to figure out how his little Moon-sprite knew all that she did. It was easier to just smile and nod and accept the inevitable conversation about silly animals he couldn’t see, and murders she shouldn’t know about. (At least she didn’t think there was a fuckin’ ‘author’ like Wade did. That idea was certainly a stretch of the imagination. However, dealing with Wade's... eccentricities had made Harry more open to the... uniqueness of his little Moonbeam’s musings.)

“Eh, not really on the list, per se. I just need to relieve myself of a certain little annoyance. It’s getting harder and harder to relax around my own damn food and drink. And I can’t fuckin’ stand that cloying ass perfume of hers.”

Harry stopped and looked over at Luna, who was laid out star fished on the blanket, staring up at the clouds. “She’s just a little too ‘rapey’ for me to deal with anymore. Besides, she is part of the Weasel family, I guess, so it will be a small check mark on my list. I really do need to start taking the vermin out of the equation soon.”

Luna giggled and turned to face him, golden hair forming a halo around her head. “Ah, Scourge, I know you’ll make it good. I almost wish I could be there to watch. She is, after all, one of the nasties that the Nargles allowed to hurt me.”

She looked back up at the clouds and pointed to one that resembled a longer rodent. She chuckled lightly and hummed,

Harry snickered behind his hand. “Moon, you are abso-fuckin'-lutely my favorite person here. If you don't do anything else after school, you should at least write a book with all your lovely poetry. I’d even read it.”

She leaned up on one elbow and met his gaze. “What a truly kind thing to say, Scourge. Just remember that weasels generally hunt alone. They’re very vicious. And they very rarely stay with a mate. ⁽²⁾ Be careful. I know you will be, but I do worry the weasel will try something very bad very soon. You should be ready.”

Harry hummed in thought and reached out to pat her head, scritching his fingers lightly through her hair. “I’ve got this, Luna-beam." He shook his head and pretended to gag. "And that's just straight up nasty, Moon. I wasn't planning on takin' her as a fuckin' mate anyway. Ugh, just the thought makes my skin fuckin' crawl. Nah, I'll get rid of the pest. She'll be out of our hair. I'll get it done, I promise. And don’t worry your pretty Moonbeam head about it, I’ll make sure it’s done very, very soon.”

Her dreamy eyes twinkled at him. “Good.”

--------------------
Voldisnorts,

Hey, quick question. Is muggle poison detectable in the wizarding world? They seem kinda bass-ackwards with their healthcare and forensic science. Lemme know when you can.

~ Your favorite evil buddy
--------------------
Scourge,

Call me that again and I will poison you and all you hold dear. But, no, they do not regularly test for muggle poisons when checking bodies who have died. Mediwizards and healers believe that deaths mostly come from magical means, not muggle. They would assume, if they thought it was a poison, that it came from a magical potion or herb. Thus, they would try to cure it with a bezoar, the antidote for most of those things.

- Lord Voldemort
--------------------
Attn: Most Benevolent, Powerful, Honored and Esteemed, Lord and Master, Dark Lord Tomas Marvolo Riddle Voldemort III, Esquire, DDS., OPP., MSG ⁽³⁾

My Lord,

Apologies for besmirching your most honored and revered name. I appreciate you lowering yourself to the level of us plebeians in order to impart your vast knowledge and wisdom upon me. I would ever be lost without your guidance. I bow before you in subservience. There is none greater than you. I am not worthy. No, My Lord, I am not worthy.

Ever your lowly and groveling servant,

~ Scourge
--------------------
Scourge,

You are a brat.

- Lord Voldemort
--------------------
Tommy ~ my evil <3,

I know, but you love me anyway… kisses!

~ *SWAK* ⁽⁴⁾ ~ Scourge

- November 11^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Severus' Potions Lab, Hogwarts Dungeons -

"Scourge, do not take this as me denying your request, but what are you going to do with a restricted potion such as Veritaserum? I had thought you had the answers you were seeking already and were already taking care of the issue at hand,” Severus’ calm and detached voice reached him as he poked through his potion stores.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and bounced slightly from foot to foot. “So, this is a weird one, Sev. I know what they did (last summer! Ha!), but I kinda wanna know how deep this family's crazy goes. Luna says the girl is one of the more mentally unstable and vicious ones. I figured, while I’m there, putting her out of my misery, I might see what else I can learn. You know what I mean?”

Severus fixed him with a droll look before doling out five drops of Veritaserum into a small phial for him. “Well do not do anything dunderheaded with this potion, young man. I made this myself. Do remember this is a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets to all. We would not want that, now would we?” He asked with a raised brow.

Snatching the sealed phial out of Severus’ hand, Harry smirked. “No worries there, Sev. My secrets are my own, and they’ll stay that way. Thanks for this!”

Shaking his head at Harry’s antics, Severus reminded him, “That is a highly controlled potion, young man. Ensure you are not caught with it.”

“Got ‘cha! Thanks again.”

Miyagi
—————

(Scourge) 19:12

heyyy need AS33⁽⁵⁾ wht pwdr ½ oz pls

(Miyagi) 19:14

fuck thats some punch u wanna pack

(Scourge) 19:14

eh shes worth it

(Miyagi) 19:16

so this -is- about the girl

(Scourge) 19:17

lol ya th 1 whos gonna (X_X)

(Miyagi) 19:18

ah not the sprite then

(Scourge) 19:19

jsus fuk frank cn u staap wit that

(Scourge) 19:19

cn u jst get me th pwdr prtty pls

(Miyagi) 19:20

sure kid

(Miyagi) 19:21

all pretty girls like poison for a present

(Scourge) 19:21

hve i tld u i h8 u 2day

(Miyagi) 19:22

love u too kid

(Scourge) 19:23

sigh snd w/ owl frm tom pls

(Miyagi) 19:24

can do

(Scourge) 19:24

thx frank

(Miyagi) 19:25

anytime kid have fun

- November 13^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Classroom 7B, Hogwarts -

Ginerva Weasley was not doing a very good job at stalking him. He had been tracking her the entire evening as she followed him through the halls and around the school. But, luckily for him, he had planned especially for this occasion. (Shit, he was even looking forward to it.)

He led her higher and higher through the school, traversing the ever moving stairs up to the seventh floor. She followed at a ‘safe’ distance, but he made sure to track her the entire time.

Pretending to be deeply involved in a book while he walked, he stopped in front of an empty classroom. It was labeled Classroom 7B and located right off of the Fat Lady’s Corridor. ⁽⁶⁾ Here he allowed her to catch up to him and ‘run into him accidentally’. He sent her a shy smile.

“Hello, Ginny. What are you doing all the way up here? I thought I was alone with my book,” he said to her, widening his eyes while gesturing to the book in his hand.

She leaned her head to the side and twirled a lock of her ginger hair around her finger while batting her overly made-up eyelashes. “Oh, Henry, I didn’t know you would be here,” she simpered.

Fuckin’ right you didn’t. Jesus, did these people think he was an idiot?? No, wait… don’t answer that.

“I was just looking for a place to relax, maybe have a little snack and read for a while,” he explained. (Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.)

“Oooh, I would love to join you for an evening snack, Henry,” she batted her eyelashes even more at him. (Harry tried not to blink too hard. Those fuckers were gonna fall off soon if she kept up her insipid blinking. Not to mention that she looked like she wanted to eat him for a snack, so he was getting pretty put off.) "We have not had much of a chance to get to know each other. I know you are always with my brother and his friends, but I would really like the chance for us to get... closer, if you know what I mean."

She reached forward to try and run a finger down his arm, but he jerked away from her touch. (Hopefully not too blatantly. He was, after all, attempting to pretend to ‘desire her’. Blech. Harry was going to throw up in his mouth, if you know what he means.)

Harry ducked his head, feigning embarrassment. “Uh, are you sure that you want me?”

She nodded at him. (A little too enthusiastically.) He turned to the classroom and opened the door for her, gesturing to her to go inside. After she entered, he followed her, subtly shooting a locking spell toward the door. He twitched his fingers to raise his silencing wards for the room then turned to give her a blinding smile.

“So, I think that maybe I haven’t really given you a chance. I know I’ve been kinda scared to meet new people here. Where I’m from, we’re generally shy and reserved when dealing with the opposite sex.” (Bahahaha! MTV anyone???)

“Oh, Henry,” Ginerva said as she ran her fingernails down the front of his robes.

He’s gonna need a fuckin’ hour long scrub to get the nasty skeevies off of him after this shit was done. Bletch!

“I’ll make sure that you know exactly how things go here,” she said in a ‘come hither’ voice. (Or Harry thought that was what she was trying to do. Either way, she missed the mark completely.)

Harry smiled shyly again and transfigured one of the desks in the room into a couch and another into a small table. He took his ‘prepared’ tea set out of his pocket and resized it, conjuring some tea for the both of them.

“Let’s sit down, my lady, and we can chat for a while and get to know each other better.”

She looked at him from under her lashes and sent a coy smile his way while sitting down. She patted the couch beside her. “You can sit close. I won’t tell anyone.”

GAG!

He left some space between them and handed her a cup of tea. She took a small sip and Harry watched as the Veritaserum took hold. Her eyes glazed over, and she sat motionless.

“What is your name?” Harry asked, once he figured the potion had enough time to work.

“Ginerva Molly Weasley, often called Ginny,” she said in a monotone.

“When were you born?”

“August 11^th, 1981.”

“Great! Okay, so now… why are you so obsessed with getting me to fall in love with you?” Harry asked her.

“I do not care about you loving me. My parents and the Headmaster told me that it would be in our family’s best interests for you to marry me. Then I would be a rich Lady. When it had been long enough, we would stage an accident and I would inherit everything.”

“Huh, okay, I pretty much knew all of that. But why me? There’s lots of other rich asshole Lords out there you could do this to.”

“You are unknown to the Headmaster and therefore dangerous. He wanted you to be kept in line. He did not like that you had taken the Potter name and inheritance from him. He was angry that he did not get to keep the money after Harry Potter’s 17^th birthday passed. He was supposed to get to keep the inheritance because Harry Potter is dead.”

“Okay, let me get this straight. You and your family – and the Headmaster – stole Harry Potter’s money and would have continued to do so after he was declared dead. And the only reason you want me is because I got in the way of that? Good… good, I was worried there for a moment that you actually liked me, ‘cus, bitch… that was never gonna work out. Now, I know there are like fifty of you Weasels out there. Was your whole family in on this plot?”

“No, Fred and George stay out of the family dynamics anymore. They washed their hands of mum and dad when they left school. They said that mum was too obsessed and dad didn’t care about anything.”

Harry tapped his wand on his chin in thought. He didn’t know Fred and George, but the girl had to be telling the truth thanks to the potion. And it would be nice to knock a couple people off his list if he was able to skip them.

“But everyone else was in on it? They all knew about the money theft and this stupid plot?”

“Percy was embarrassed by our family. Thought he was too good for us. He went to work for the Ministry, but stays far away from dad for the entire time he's there. He doesn't have anything to do with it. He'd actually be more likely to work against the family."

By her words, Harry assumed that she would be spitting mad about her older brother's actions. Luckily for him, he didn't have to deal with all that emotional baggage shit. He just got to listen to the facts. Thank you Veritaserum!

She continued, "Charlie has had nothing to do with the family either, at least not since he moved to Romania. He did not know where the money came from, and he does not talk to mum and dad now. Well, except at Christmas and Easter.”

“Hmm, okay. Oh, one last thing, have you done anything to Luna Lovegood since I had my little chat with those bitches in Ravenclaw?”

Ginerva slowly shook her head side to side. “No, I was warned to leave her alone by them. They were scared for some reason, but they did not tell me why. I would have done more to her but was waiting until I found the right time.”

Harry growled at that but let it go. The bitch was getting hers anyway. No use in getting angrier. “Welp! I think we’re done here. I got my answers. You’ve been very helpful, thank you.” (Look, Narcissa! Manners and all that shit.)

He placed her in a body bind yet leaving her the ability to talk before administering the antidote to the potion. She immediately shook her head in protest and started screaming at him to let her go. Tears formed at her eyes as she attempted to move anything below her neck with no result.

“What are you going to do to me?? Are you going to have your wicked way with me??? I am pure! Pure, I tell you!!! My family will avenge anything you do to me,” she cried at him.

Pure?? Riiigggght.

“Am I going to have my… what the fuck. Gross. No, I’m not gonna have my fuckin’ 'wicked way' with you.” Harry shook his head in disbelief. “Who the fuck even talks like that anyway?”

He gave his head another small shake then aimed an evil smirk her way. “Nope. You’re gonna do me a favor. You’re gonna write a little note for me. Think you can do that?”

She shook her head back and forth in fear, tears falling down her cheeks. “No! I won’t do anything! You let me go. You’re horrible! Just awful! No amount of money is worth this! I’ll tell the Headmaster… I’ll tell my mum and dad on you!!!”

“Jesus friggin’ Christ… all I wanted was a note. Calm your tits.” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. He turned back to Ginerva and slowly explained, “Okay, I can see we’re gonna have to do this whole thing the hard way. This is the last time we’ll get to chat that you’ll remember… any last words?”

“Why are you doing this???” She sobbed.

“Ah, good question. You see, Ginerva, of all human weaknesses, obsession is the most dangerous, and the silliest! You all have been obsessed with Harry Potter, and now with me. Oddly enough, we’re the same person! He’s him; I’m me. Well, also he’s me and I’m him – always have been. Harry Potter, at your service. And, when you die, I might even be at your service,” he chuckled. “Who knows,” he shrugged.

“Anyway, I’ve got a date to hang out with my favorite crazy sprite and then I have to make curfew tonight. I’m on a tight schedule, and you’ve got a note to write and some tea to drink. I’d say it’s been nice knowing you, but you really, really creep me out in a horrible stalker way. Therapy might have saved you. There seems to be a severe lack of it in the wizarding world. Might help insane megalomaniacs not take over the world. Huh. Oh well, back to you. Instead of the whole therapy option, I’m going with a more permanent solution. Say hi to the others for me,” he grinned.

Ginverva had not stopped crying the whole time. At his little speech she gasped out in surprise and horror.

Harry was getting way too dramatic with these evil villain speeches. He knew he was getting a bit theatrical. Frank would definitely have to rid him of this habit when they started working together again. It was a bit counterproductive when you’re trying to infiltrate, blow up, and get out fast. But for right now, it was fun and he was going to enjoy it.

Placing a parchment and quill in front of her, he wiped all evidence of himself off of it. He raised his wand at her and intoned imperio, then released the body bind. “You want to write a note on the parchment saying:

--------------------
~ Dear mum and dad,

I can’t do this. I tried to be what you wanted me to be. It is just too much to take anymore. I love you and my brothers very much, but there is nothing left for me here. I will let this Angel's Draught help me leave this world. Do not try to save me.

Please forgive me,

~ Ginny
--------------------

"And then you will drink the tea next to you on the table. Make sure to drink it all and do not leave one drop.”

Harry watched as she wrote, placing the arsenic laced tea next to her. (There was enough poison in there to kill a small elephant.) She finished her note and took the cup, drinking down the last drop. When that was done, he switched it out with one laced with Angel’s Draught. It was just a precaution in case they found her early, recognized the potion, and tried to save her. (Newsflash: they wouldn’t. There would be no saving her with that much poison in her system.)

He released the imperio and watched as her face immediately contorted in pain. Smiling, he watched her grab at her throat. He glanced at his watch to mark the time. He figured he had at least a few minutes to hang out until he promised to meet up with Moonbeam.

Ginerva had fallen off the couch and was lying in fetal position, grabbing at her stomach and shaking violently. He could tell that pain was gripping through her entire body. The amount he had dosed her with should only take a little while to kill her, but he wanted to make sure.

He watched for a while as she became more and more ill with the poison’s effects. Her body started convulsing spastically. She was throwing up foam and bile onto the floor. (Gross.) Her eyes had rolled up into her head and Harry figured she only had a minute or so to go.

He watched impassively as her breathing slowed and the shudders that wracked her body eventually stopped. She lay there, in a puddle of her own urine and vomit. Dead of an apparent suicide.

Angel’s Draught… how fitting. Poor girl, she was just too high-strung. He glanced at her and supposed that the strain of it all was more than she could bear.

Oh well, he thought while clearing the room of anything that might be tied back to him, time to head on to something more interesting.

He unlocked the door and pulled his invisibility over himself so that he could avoid anyone who might be wandering the halls. He left the door to 7B unlocked and unwarded. He did, after all, want someone to eventually find her. (Decomp smelled real bad if left too long.)

With his chores complete, it was time to enjoy the rest of the evening with a decent book… maybe he’d read some Poe to Moon. She would enjoy that morbid shit.

Chapter Text

Severus sat at the end of the table watching the absolute cacophony that the Order of the Phoenix meeting had been reduced to. He had finally been brought into the actual meetings after the murder of Trelawney. This was probably because Albus was getting more and more perturbed by the events that were unfolding and not so much that the old goat trusted him. Either way, Severus was having the time of his life.

Albus, however, did not appear to be having such a good time. The room was filled with yelling by the Order members about the recent deaths of some of their own. Ginny Weasley’s body had been discovered the day prior on the seventh floor in one of Hogwarts’ many unused classrooms. Apparently she was declared dead at her ‘own hand’. The members of the Order assumed it was due to stress over what she had been tasked to do.

Severus tried to find a miniscule bit of pity for the chit, but it was fairly hard to do. Her death was well deserved, and evidently Scourge had outdone himself yet again with how it occurred. It had not been a pretty sight for Filch to come across when he went in to investigate the smell. (Pity.)

Severus snorted to himself. He was pretty happy with the fact that he had finally met the boy and was able to be a part of his life now. Up to and including his revenge methods. Harry did do a decent job in making these things theatrical. The whole group of Death Eaters was quite enjoying the destruction the boy was executing on those who had wronged him. Severus knew that Voldemort was especially happy with the current results. He had to give credit to Scourge. The boy certainly knew his torture methods. He was very... creative.

Bringing himself out of his musing, Severus started paying attention when Minerva attempted to console a weeping Molly Weasley.

“Oh, Molly, ‘tis a shame the poor girl never brought her problems to me. I am her head of House. I would have done anything to help the child,” Minerva soothed.

Molly shook her head back and forth, burying it in her hands while she wept. “She wasn’t that type of girl. She would have never done something like that. Even with the note… I just... I... I can’t believe it.” She raised reddened and puffy eyes to look at Albus, “Why did you even ask her to try to take on a mission that was obviously too much for a young girl??”

Severus sighed, if he remembered correctly, which he did… Molly had been the one pushing for her daughter to be involved in the situation as well. Apparently, the blubbering woman had selective memory regarding her own involvement in her daughter’s death.

“What is going on here, Albus? That is three people dead in less than a month and a half. Three of our own! One of them was my DAUGHTER!! What are we doing to stop this? What are we doing??” Molly cried hysterically.

Albus looked at the bawling woman and then out at the rest of the Order in obvious disappointment at how they were reacting to the deaths of their own. He probably thought that they should be celebrating the fact that these witches gave their lives for the Light. However, Albus and Severus were probably the only ones who knew what was really going on. (And Severus was keeping mum on divulging anything. It was not his place to stop this brewing disaster in the Order.)

Kingsley Shacklebolt had not been able to bring any news from the aurors that helped with the cases of Trelawney or Arabella Figg. He seemed to agree that the most current death of Ginerva Weasley was suicide, as well. In other words, he was no help at all to Albus’ problems.

Alastor Moody was grumbling about ‘too many coincidences lately’ and ‘constant vigilance’ and ‘that Potter boy’. His eye was circling the room, staring at each person sitting at the table, inevitably causing them discomfort. “This is not normal, Albus. There are too many links to the Potter family. Too many links to the past. This is the act of Death Eaters, I just know it. We must be on our guard, now even more than ever. Who knows who could be next.”

Mundungus Fletcher and Elphias Doge nodded in agreement while Sturgis Podmore paled at the thought of being the next to die.

Severus rolled his eyes to himself… cowards, the lot of them. Sheep-like cowards who had followed the wrong man in the wrong fight. They would learn soon enough.

Arthur Weasley sat silent, vacant stare on his face. Big surprise to absolutely no one there, seeing as he was the most worthless husband and father one could ask for. The man had a backbone made of cooked pasta. Limp. Not able to make one sound decision on anything at all.

His son Bill, however, seemed to be the strong male presence in the family. Severus somewhat bemoaned the fact that the child had decided to follow his family in their quest to gain Harry’s fortune and help out Dumbledore. He would have made a decent Death Eater with his knowledge on curse breaking and the Dark arts.

Hagrid’s face looked sad and drawn as he lamented the loss of the innocent child who had never hurt even a tiny fly.

Severus could barely keep a straight face at that one. These people had all set up his best friend and her family for destruction, whether all of them knew it or not. And they were paying. He was pretty happy that they would all finally be paying with their lives. Just like Harry’s parents had.

The two children who were allowed in on this meeting were young Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger. Neither of them seemed too sad at the loss of the youngest Weasley chit. They seemed angrier that she had not followed through with her mission of helping them get ‘Henry’ in line to help out the Order with a large influx of money.

“Headmaster, what do we do now? Ginny was the one who was supposed to bring Henry over to the Order and make it so that we were able to get all of the votes and money back.” She shook her head vehemently. “Don’t make me take her place, sir. I don’t want to do that part of it. I plan on staying free from oppressive marriage for my whole life. I only want to work for the Light and in the Ministry to protect the wizarding world from Dark and evil wizards and creatures,” Hermione declared.

Ron piped in with a complaint as well. “Yeah, sitting with that freak every ‘study session’ is getting lame. He doesn’t ever do anything. He just stays quiet, reads and then leaves. I mean, Gin’s death isn’t really going to change his mind or nothin’. It is all kind of pointless to me. It’s not like he’s going to suddenly realize that he should have been with Gin and come over to our side, now is it? We should just go about it differently. Maybe find some blackmail or something.”

“Ronald Weasley!!! You just lost your sister!!! You should be showing more remorse for her death,” Molly screeched at him.

He ducked his head and mumbled, “Sorry, mum.”

Dumbledore sighed after watching the hysterical byplay between his Order members. He finally piped up with a grandfatherly tone, “Ladies, gentlemen… we must remain calm.”

Severus felt the push of calm rush over him. Thankfully he had remembered to ward himself accordingly, otherwise he would have succumbed to Albus’ magic like the rest of them. Well, Severus considered as he looked over at Moody who had furrowed his brow in annoyance after the magic had been cast, maybe not all of them.

“I have every bit of faith in the aurors that the cases of Mrs. Figg and Professor Trelawney will be investigated completely, and that we will get some answers.” He looked pityingly over at the Weasley parents and shook his head slowly. “And I am so very sorry for your loss, Molly and Arthur. I know you must be hurting very badly. Please do take a day or two to bring your family together to mourn before you feel the need to come back to work for the Order. We will make sure to keep you informed of any new information.”

He paused and looked around the room again, affecting an extra twinkle in his eye. “I will announce to the school this evening at dinner that they may pay their respects to their lost friend through a moment of silence.” Molly started sobbing again. “And we will continue on with the fight for the Light. We need to work on swaying those who are Gray toward our way of thinking. Use any means you can.”

“Children,” he focused his attention on the current youngest Weasley and the Granger girl, “you focus harder on making sure that Henry knows what the true way in the wizarding world should be. Point out how horrible Dark creatures are. Point out the benefits of following my… I mean the Order’s ways. Be subtle, but be firm. We must maintain our focus on bringing those lost votes over to the Light!”

Rolling his eyes again, Severus sneered at the sheer pretentious attitude of Dumbledore when dealing, or not dealing as the case may be, with these recent deaths. He had no idea what else was in store for these people, and Severus couldn’t wait to watch.

She would enjoy that morbid shit.

- November 16^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Rangnok’s Office, Gringotts -

It was Hogsmeade weekend and Harry decided it was time to swing by Gringotts to see his favorite little bloodthirsty goblin. Severus had clued him in to the fact that one Bill Weasley was employed as a curse breaker by the bank. He mostly worked in their Egyptian branch, but was back in town due to his sister’s unfortunate death. (Such an unfortunate incident.)

Harry, for one, was quite shaken up by the death of his potential beloved. (According to the teachers and students who saw him.) He had shown the Gryffindors that he studied with just how much he was affected. He was barely eating. (Around them.) Was quieter than usual. (Again, around them.) He even let a tear or two drop when he was told about her death. (He’d had to employ the tried-and-true method of pinching his thigh through his pocket. Right next to his groin… Ow!) They believed him to be vulnerable and therefore were attempting to push their agenda even more overtly now. And whatever was said during their little Annoying Chicken meeting must have stuck because Granger was super fuckin’ annoying lately.

But all of that didn’t matter right then. Today he was going to see a man goblin about a horse wizard. (“Remember, kid, you can pretty much pay anyone for anything.”) He walked into the bank and up to one of the tellers. This time around he was much more comfortable with the whole scene so he just waited to be recognized and give his name. The teller eyed him suspiciously for a moment when Harry asked to see Ragnok, but after a moment he gestured for Harry to follow.

They went into Ragnok’s office where the goblin was pouring meticulously over parchments. He grunted and motioned Harry to sit in the chair in front of his desk. Before Harry could say a word, he raised a gnarled finger to indicate that he should wait while he finished his work.

Harry pulled out his favorite knife and spun it between his fingers while he waited. Ragnok spared him a brief glance when the weapon made its first appearance, then he ignored him to continue his reading. Harry flipped the knife in the air and spun it around in boredom while Ragnok finished up. Finally huffing out a snorting breath, the goblin pushed the stack of paperwork to one side and bared his sharpened teeth at Harry in a horrible semblance of a smile.

“Mr. Potter, to what does Gringotts owe the pleasure of your presence today?” He snarled. (However, it was quite a polite snarl, in Harry’s opinion.)

“Well, Ragnok,” Harry started, leaning back in his seat and crossing one ankle over his knee. He tapped the blade of his knife on the sole of his boot while he looked over the desk at the goblin. “I’m in need of a favor.”

Ragnok’s eyes narrowed. “We are not in the habit of doing favors for wizards.”

Harry smirked impishly at the ill-tempered goblin. “Not even for a fruit basket?”

“What is this nonsense? Get to the point, wizard. You are wasting both of our time,” Ragnok snarled while he shook his head, curling his lip even more in disgust.

Harry put his foot back down on the ground and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Like I said… I need a favor. Can you do it?”

Ragnok leaned back in his chair and tented his clawed fingers in front of his chin. “That depends, young Potter. What is the favor? And what will you do for me in exchange?”

Harry snorted and sat up, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Figures… won’t accept the fruit basket, but definitely want something in return. Well, no worries, we’ll figure something out. Let me tell you what I need first.”

He tapped his chin with his finger and then gestured to the goblin. “You have someone who works for you… someone that I don’t particularly think needs to be breathing anymore. I would kill him myself, but I’m racking up a decent body count pretty quickly. Right now I need to choose my moves carefully. However, if he were to have an accident at his place of work, well that wouldn’t be my fault would it?”

“Hnnn,” Ragnok grumbled, contemplating what Harry had requested of him. “If we do this, the bank will be required to pay out the entirety of the employee’s contract as a death benefit to the family. That could mean anywhere from two to five years of pay. We are not in the business of losing money here at Gringotts. Therefore, my first inclination is to deny your request.”

Scrunching up his nose in frustration, Harry sighed. “Can you tell me how much it will be to buy out the contract of William ‘Bill’ Arthur Weasley? He is, I believe, one of your curse breakers who works the Egyptian branch.”

Ragnok’s eyes narrowed slightly, “He is not a goblin; however, he is well versed in his craft. A loss of a curse breaker of that caliber, no matter what amount of time is left on his contract, would be considered a major cost to Gringotts.”

He pulled out a drawer and lifted out an ancient looking leather-bound book, larger than his head. He flipped through the pages, running his gnarled finger down each one until he found what he was looking for. “Weasley, William Arthur. Male wizard. Will be turning 27 years old on the 29^th of this month. Currently unmarried. Tasked to the Egyptian branch of Gringotts. Home on bereavement leave.”

Ragnok paused here and shot a pointed gaze at Harry. He merely sent an innocent expression right back at the goblin.

“Time left on contract: 2 years, 3 months, 8 days. We will disregard the hours and seconds for this meeting’s purposes. Mr. Weasley, even though he is a wizard, falls into our 75^th percentile of pay for curse breakers. This sets his earnings at 10,850g per year. He signed on with a five-year contract, leaving him with 23,742g 1s 26k for a contract payout. Not to mention the loss of a decent employee, albeit a wizard. I would value the loss of his employment at 50,000g while Gringotts spends its resources trying to find a passable replacement.”

Harry brought his knife up to his lips and tapped the tip against them in thought. “So, we’re looking at a total of 73,742g 1s and 26k for this ‘accident’ to take place?”

Snorting, Ragnok shook his head. “No, young wizard. That is only for the loss we will incur. That does not include any accident that may occur in the future. For that, well, our rates go on a sliding scale. Exactly how injured do you need this wizard, did you say?”

“The kind of injured where he stops breathing forever. That kind,” Harry smirked. “I need it to look… natural. Something that he would normally be doing, but that we could ensure he would never walk away from. Basically, I just need you to help me squash an irritation.”

Ragnok nodded and flipped further toward the back of the book, grumbling under his breath, “Accidental curse magic… dismemberment by rune magic… evil entities summoned… ah! Here we go. I have just the thing. There is a cave we have been working on that is surrounded by very difficult curses. It is well-known throughout Gringotts curse breakers, and a point of pride for them to be put on the case. I will offer it to Mr. Weasley and ensure that a couple goblin curse breakers go with to ‘help things along’, so to speak. I will only charge 100,000g for the actual ‘accident’ and 5,000g for each of the goblins tasked for the mission.”

He wrote some figures down on his parchment and looked back up at Harry, “That brings our total for this business deal to 183,742g 1s and 26k. However, since you are such a valued customer, I will be willing to give you a discount and only charge 183,742g, waiving the sickles and knuts.”

Harry chuckled at the greedy little goblin, thankful that murder was just a business venture to them and not something personal or ‘evil’.

“You know what, Ragnok? I like you, and I appreciate the gesture of you shaving off those extra sickles and knuts. So, here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna front you 225,000g out of my vault. That will cover the ‘accident’, the contract, the extra work I know you’ll have to do, and anything else that comes along. It will also help you remember that I’m one of the good ones to do business with, I hope.”

Raising his brows at the sheer number of extra galleons that Harry was offering, Ragnok gave a gruff cough. “Well, young Mr. Potter. It seems that we are in accord. I will be more than willing to make more deals of this caliber, if you so need them in the future.”

“See?” Harry asked, leaning back in the chair, stretching his arms open and winking cheekily at the grumpy goblin. “Much better than a fruit basket.”

- November 27^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Dinner in the Great Hall, Hogwarts -

The eldest Weasley boy, William ‘Bill’ Arthur Weasley, was accidentally exploded during a routine de-cursing of a gem cave for Gringotts. When the smoke and ash finally cleared from the explosion, the pieces of the body were not large enough to fit together for a proper funeral.

This reporter has discovered that the bank sent Mr. Weasley to Chihuahua, Mexico, to deal with a slew of dark curses that had been discovered around the cave. They were assumed to be placed there to deter those who wanted to enter the cave to mine its riches. Gringotts director, Ragnok, has been quoted as saying, “He worked for the bank. He knew the risks. Now he is dead before he finished the job, and we will have to send others to finish up what he has left undone. This is very inconvenient for us.”

The Weasley family has not been able to comment on the most recent loss in their family, however Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, friend of the family, has been quoted as saying, “It is a terrible loss to both the family and Light wizards throughout Britain. He will be missed by all who knew him. Our hearts go out to the family during this trying time."

Our readers will remember that the youngest Weasley child, Ginerva ‘Ginny’ Molly Weasley, took her own life just over two weeks ago, under questionable circumstances. (See pg. 3 for summary on Ginny Weasley ‘suicide’.) We have to wonder if this family is cursed, or if it is merely a string of bad luck hitting them. (Article cont. pg. 5)

Harry ducked his head as he read the article so that no one would be able to see his smile. Totally worth the 225,000g he had ‘donated’ to Ragnok’s cause. And, he had a feeling that if he needed to get their aid again, they would be more than happy to help. He was, after all, one of their wealthier patrons. He had to admit they did beautiful work, too. No one would ever think to link this death to him.

Two Weasleys down… three to go. What a good month this was turning out to be. He grinned as he pushed his dinner aside and grabbed a slice of treacle tart. This news was worthy of a small celebration.

While Harry sat at the Slytherin table, reading the paper and eating his dessert, Luna plopped down next to him. She glanced at the headline and shook her head.

“The Quibbler only gave his death two paragraphs. Apparently the Daily Prophet had a much more sensational backstory to cover on our favorite rodents. Or they needed to fill space up in their silly paper. Daddy just got bored with the whole story and family and couldn’t find enough interesting things to print about them.”

She sighed a little, in apparent disappointment, and leaned on his shoulder. Sending him an impish smile, she sneaked a tiny forkful of his treacle tart before he could bat her hand away. She hummed under her breath and sang quietly to him:

Harry cackled uncontrollably at her song, burying his face in her hair to hide his laughter. “You’ve been the light of my life the entire time I’ve lived in this ridiculous place, Moon. Never, ever change,” he whispered to her.

Her shoulders shook lightly with laughter as she patted his hand and murmured, “Poetry soothes the savage Scourge, didn’t you know?”

Chapter Text

“You have not progressed nearly far enough in your training, Mr. Longbottom,” Dumbledore said disappointedly while gazing at the boy over his half-moon glasses. Behind Neville, Hermione and Ron smirked and sniggered softly. They always felt superior when Neville got in trouble for not performing well enough. They knew that at least they were working the hardest in the fight against Voldemort and the Dark.

“Mr. Longbottom?” Dumbledore prompted.

“Yes, sir. I… I will try harder. It is just hard sometimes when I get hurt and don’t have enough time to recover,” Neville almost whispered into the room.

“Ah, my boy,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head in disappointment, “Voldemort will not give you time to recover either. You must train your body to push through it. Ignore the pain and discomfort. Pain is, after all, temporary.”

Dumbledore pursed his lips in slight frustration at the timid boy. “I believe you understand, dear boy, and you can take your leave. If you are still feeling the strain of your training from earlier today, I suggest you meditate on that in your common room this evening. You are dismissed, Mr. Longbottom,” he said with a decisive nod.

Ron and Hermione moved to the side to allow Neville to pass. He walked with hunched shoulders out the door and down the stairs. When he was completely out of the room, Dumbledore turned to the two Gryffindors left in the room.

“And you two… why is it that Ms. Lovegood seems to be more of a companion to Mr. Castiglione than you are? Although she is not necessarily Dark, she has the influence of her father and that ridiculous paper he runs. Not to mention the ridiculous ideologies she spouts. No, he does not need that influence in his life.”

Dumbledore pursed his lips in thought. “She and he have been getting close. Too close. I would much rather he spend more time with you, Ms. Granger. Use whatever means you have to. With the loss of your sister, Mr. Weasley, there is a void that you also can fill. You must turn him away from these outside influences. Perhaps we can… highly suggest to Ms. Lovegood that she should focus her attention elsewhere. There were some students in her house earlier this year that were taking her attention away from him. Perhaps we might follow in their footsteps.”

He peered over at Hermione and tented his fingers, tapping them against his bearded chin. “You came from the muggle world, Ms. Granger. I expect you to find common ground with the young Lord. Help him. Guide him. We should have been closer to having him on our side by now!”

Both Ron and Hermione jerked slightly back in shock when their esteemed Headmaster raised his voice at them.

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said in a subdued voice while nodding. “We will do our best sir.”

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at both of them, not a twinkle shown through his glasses. “Good. Remember, children, this is for the greater good.”

“Hey there, Loony,” Ron jeered at Luna as she skipped down a deserted hallway toward the Slytherin dungeons. “Where are you going? Bet you’re going to find Castiglione and pester him some more, aren’t you? Merlin, what a loon.”

Luna tipped her head to the side in question as Hermione grabbed her wand out of her hands.

“What do you want?” She asked them airily, furrowing her brow slightly at Hermione. “And why did you take my wand?”

Hermione sneered at her. “You won’t need it where you’re going.”

Ron grinned menacingly while backing Luna up against the wall. “Yeah, Loony, you don’t need a wand at all. We’ll take real good care of you." He laughed in her face and looked at Hermione, "Look at Loony. She's proper scared. None of her bloody Nargles gonna save her now."

He leaned in to whisper harshly in Luna's ear, "In fact, after this, I bet you’ll remember to stay far away from us and from Castiglione.” He poked his wand into her chest and growled out, “He doesn’t like you. He doesn’t want to be your friend. He doesn’t want anything to do with you. He told us. You’re clingy, ditzy, dizzy and…” he stopped to shove one of her shoulders, “Loony.”

Luna’s eyes darted between the two Gryffindors, trying to figure out the best way to get out of this situation. There was no one around that would help her. No one could even hear her this far down near the dungeons where she and Scourge usually met up.

“You don’t want to do this. Nargles always pay for their deeds. Wrackspurts will find out what you have done and then tell a vengeful Scourge. It will end in blood. Not a good time for some, but appropriate for those who are to be avenged.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What are you even talking about? Merlin! Your stupid animals don’t exist! They’re not in any of my books. And, the only blood you will be seeing is your own if you don’t do as we say.”

She pushed Luna into the wall, making Luna’s head hit the brick. “Look, we’re only going to say this once. Stay… away… from… Henry. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t like you. He hates you. He thinks your ideas are stupid. He thinks you’re stupid!”

Ron glanced up the hallway when he heard a noise. He nudged Hermione and tilted his chin in the direction of the noise. “Hey ‘Mione, we’ve got to finish this up quick. The Headmaster wants this taken care of without anyone hearing.”

Hermione glared at him, “Merlin Ron! Shut up! She wasn’t supposed to hear that part!” She looked at Luna who was trying to inch out of where they had blocked her way.

“Ah ah ah, Loony. That just won’t do.” She pointed her wand at Luna’s face and whispered, “Petrificus totalus.”

“Poetry soothes the savage Scourge, didn’t you know?”

- Morning of December 13^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Ragnok’s Office, Gringotts -

“Mr. Potter, how profitable for us to have you visit again,” Ragnok said when he motioned for Harry to join him in his office and sit in one of the goblin’s chairs.

Harry had decided to swing into Gringotts during Hogsmeade weekend to discuss some of the Order of the Phoenix members Severus had named for him. He had sent the list to Tom so that he, Sirius and Remus could give him the lowdown on who had actually had a hand in his whole orphan slash abused and abandoned child situation.

He realized that not all of the members of the Order were as bad as Dumbledore. Some of them were just followers. (“Only kill who needs to be killed, kid. Some deserve it, some don’t. The ones you kill that don’t deserve it will stick with you forever. A stain on your hands you’ll never get rid of.”) He didn’t feel the need to kill all the sheep just because the shepherd was an evil asshole who deserved to die hanging from his thumbs with his Achilles tendons cut, gunshots at his knees, and his femoral artery punctured so that he bled out slowly. (Not that he had thought about this much.)

No, he wanted those who were involved to pay in some way, but they didn’t need to pay with their lives. He’d be the better man. He’d let ‘em live. Instead of death, however, he’d just take away a little bit of their… comfort.

“Well, Ragnok, my good goblin friend... I can call you friend now, can’t I? I mean, we’ve been through so much together. I think that anyone who plots an ‘accidental exploding body’ together should be able to call each other friend. And, as Garth says, I like to have friends in low places,” Harry chuckled as he smirked at the goblin.

Ragnok raised one eyebrow and scowled at Harry. “We do not have friends, Mr. Potter. However, if you so prefer, we can refer to each other as acquaintances who will probably not end up killing each other.”

Harry snorted and lifted one shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “Works for me. I like you. I’d probably kill you last anyway.”

Baring his teeth in a snarling smile, Ragnok gave him a sharp nod. “More wizards should be like you, Mr. Potter. Many are too squeamish regarding the ways of the warrior.” He tapped a sharp claw on his desk impatiently. “Now, what business have you brought forth today?"

Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew the list he had drawn up of the Order members, which he promptly handed over to Ragnok. The goblin took it and regarded it with a sneer. (Probably because it was on lined paper from a spiral bound notebook. The wizarding world could really stand to update their writing implements. Parchments and quills are just so last century.)

Ragnok opened the paper and read over the list, nodding his head in thought as he read each name:
--------------------

1. kingsley shacklebolt – auror, working undercover in Ministry
2. minerva mcgonagall - professor at hogwarts, seems to be a sheep… not directly involved in theft but didn’t try to stop dumblefuck
3. emmeline vance – member, not much known except she follows blindly
4. alastor moody - retired (disabled?) auror, might be more involved than others... might kill, but right now just watch
5. nymphadora tonks (bizarre-ass name, amiright?) – auror, family traitor but not really worth the time to kill. maybe both her vaults and her mom’s.
6. elphias doge (elephantiasis dodge? ha! enlarged sense of self, maybe) – jurist, potential stalker
7. mundungus fletcher (seriously, what’s with these names?) – petty criminal ‘n coward
8. sturgis podmore (pretty sure that’s some sort of fish) – general asshole, broke into department of mysteries
9. arthur weasley – not quite sure on this one yet. might die. might just leave the asshole miserable and alone to deal with the consequences of his family’s actions… discuss

--------------------
“So,” Harry said, leaning forward in his chair, “I figure each one of those people has a vault, or few, in your bank. And, they may or may not be the most upstanding individuals according to yours truly. I’ve found some shit on pretty much all of ‘em. However, a couple of them just seem like ignorant assholes who don’t really have anything going against them except their choice of leadership.”

“Now, you and the bank have control over the finances of all the wizards and witches in this fucked up world.” He tapped his fingers on his chin and sent Ragnok an overtly innocent look. “If, let’s just say hypothetically, these individuals were to have, oh, I don’t know, something ‘happen’ to their money… whether it gets completely cut off for a while due to a bank freeze on their vault, or it accidentally disappears due to one of your esteemed employees discovering paperwork that says the families wanted to donate the entirety, or at least most, of their fortune to charity, or… it could even be the bank saying that they have done something wrong and fining them for whatever ‘misdeeds’ you come up with. I don’t particularly care about the reason behind it, I just really want it done. I would most appreciate it if they were hit where it hurt… in their pocketbooks. These assholes are only able to fund this stupid Order club because they have disposable money. If I take that money away… Well, you get the idea.”

“Hnnn,” Ragnok grumbled under his breath. He tapped a claw on his desk and peered at Harry for a long moment. “What does ‘discuss’ mean in this last entry? A Mr. Arthur Weasley?”

Harry let out a long sigh. Leaning his head back against the chair, he stared at the ceiling of Ragnok’s office. He pursed his lips in thought for a moment, then dropped his gaze to meet Ragnok’s.

“Well, from what I’ve heard from my very reliable sources, the man is merely a shell of a human. No backbone. No say in what goes on in his family’s lives. Severus swears that the mother, Molly, is a complete shrew and the one who wears the figurative ‘pants’ in the family. And, I mean American pants… not British. I’m pretty sure they both wear underwear…”

Ragnok narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat loudly. “Get to the point, Mr. Potter. I do not care about the undergarments of wizards, British or American.”

Barking out a laugh, Harry gifted Ragnok with an impish grin. “Don’t worry, Ragnok, I usually go commando anyway.” Harry sent him a quick wink, then regained a bit of levity. “But, back to the issue at hand. I’m just not sure I want to kill him as well. I think that he is also probably a bit of a victim in all of this.”

Harry shifted in his seat to get more comfortable. (Not that the goblins had comfortable chairs in the first place.) He shrugged at the goblin before continuing, “And I kill people. Believe me, I got no issue takin’ someone out. But I don’t just kill people indiscriminately. And I’m sure as hell not one to kill victims of other assholes.” He pointed to his chest and snorted. “I’m the one who’s gonna kill and hurt assholes who are actually evil.”

“Now, don't get me wrong,” Harry insisted, “I don’t want to give him a free pass, or nothin’. I just think that of all of the people in that family who were stealing from me, he was probably the least involved. Shit, he might not have even really known about it, what with the way Severus was talkin'.”

Ragnok let out a gravelly ‘harumph’, before shaking his head and grumbling, “Humans with their stupid feelings.” He tented his clawed fingers in front of his hooked nose and scrutinized Harry. “We have had good business dealings with you so far, young wizard. I consider it to be beneficial, both for myself and Gringotts, to continue our business relationship. With that in mind, I could find it in my records that these individuals had been utilizing ‘creative’ accounting. The bank could then theoretically seize their assets until restitution was made, or until the bank was able to discover the reason behind the accounting issue.”

Harry lifted one side of his mouth in a vindictive smile, “However long that may take…”

“Hnnn, these things do take… time, Mr. Potter. We must not rush finances. Our best employees would of course be dealing with the issue, but even then it might still take days, weeks, months, even years before Gringotts is able to ensure that all the financial issues have been... rectified,” Ragnok said shrewdly.

Chuckling a little, Harry nodded. “That sounds like a decent plan to me. No matter what anyone else says, you're my favorite goblin. Well, as soon as you can find the time to put this little plan in motion, I would appreciate it, Ragnok.” Harry went to rise from his chair but was stopped by the goblin banker clearing his throat.

“Mr. Potter,” he said brusquely, “this is not a favor.”

“Ah, Ragnok, my favorite greedy goblin. Did I forget?” He stopped, stood, and patted down the front of his robe, as if looking for something. Shaking his head ruefully, he bemoaned, “I meant to bring a fruit basket this time, I truly did.” He sighed and smacked himself lightly on the head. "A pro never forgets his good fruits."

Ragnok’s eyes narrowed into a glare as he gritted out a threateningly terse, “Mr. Potter.”

Harry quickly pressed on. “Alas, I’m sure you had something different in mind as payment. Luckily for us, I have just the thing! I was informed by Severus Snape, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin that the Order of the Phoenix has been using my parent’s old house as a meeting place. Now, besides the fact that they were all stealing from me, it fuckin’ pisses me off that they’re plotting my fake persona’s fuckin’ demise in my old persona’s dead family’s home.”

Furrowing his brows in slight confusion from his previous statement, Harry quickly shook his head to clear it and continued. “Fuck, I live such a random-ass weird life. Don’t grow up to be me, Ragnok. You’ll probably go crazy. Anyways, seeing as I still own the house and will probably never want to live there, how’s about I let you ‘foreclose’ on it? You kick everyone out. Give anything that looks like it might be ‘sentimental’ to those who were at the will readings. They knew my parents and would probably care about all that shit way more than I ever would. Other than that stuff, though, the house and its contents are yours. How’s that sound?”

Leaning back in his desk chair, Ragnok’s lips thinned in thought. He gave Harry a small nod and said, “It sounds like we have yet another deal, Mr. Potter.”

Harry gave the goblin a deep bow, complete with a flourish of his hand. “As always, Ragnok, it has been a true pleasure doing business with you. I wish you the best of luck on all your vicious future plans and hope you get all the money you could ever want.”

Ragnok snorted at the young wizard. “I wish you violent travels, Mr. Potter. I assume you can see yourself out.”

“Yep! See ya!” Harry smiled as he exited the office, whistling to himself over his successful meeting with Ragnok. He couldn’t wait to tell Moonbeam all about his newest business venture. She’d be so proud of his fiscal ingenuity.

- Late Morning, December 13^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Hogwarts -

Harry walked through the gates of Hogwarts, happy with the way that his whole revenge plot was going. The list was dwindling down. Professor Trelawney? Check. Arabella Figg? Check. A couple of rodents? Check, check. Order Members that aren’t going to be killed? Check, check, checkity, check. Yes, he was pretty satisfied with all his hard work. And nothing seemed to be going bad so far.

Dumblefuck seemed lost, as usual, and his sheep seemed to be circling deeper and deeper into a panicked state. Severus kept him up to date on the antics of the Order of the Stupid Chickens, and of the Headmaster. He was very happy with how it was all affecting the old asshole.

Tom and Harry had been keeping in touch during the fall. Their letters were filled with Wizengamot news, how Tom was advancing his Death Eaters through the Ministry, and anecdotes of Nagini’s musings during meetings.

Harry wrote mostly of Dumbledore’s fuckin’ awful robes, the ways he planned on working on his list (spelled to only be read by Tom) and, of course, of his dreams of eviscerating the man who caused both of them so many problems.

It was nice to have a malicious pen pal.

As he pondered his progress on his little revenge plot, Harry began to look around the grounds for Luna.

First, he checked by the lake to see if she had decided to randomly enjoy the winter air for a while. (Probably to commune with some sort of animal that he couldn’t see.) She wasn’t there. However, he wasn’t too worried.

He continued into the school, checking their usual haunts. He looked in the Great Hall. The library. The dungeons.

He asked Sev if he had seen Luna. He asked every student he came in contact with if they had seen her. Each one said no.

Eventually Theo and pretty boy started to help him look, after he explained that no one had seen or heard from Luna since that morning, after he went to Hogsmeade. But they couldn’t find her anywhere.

At this point, Harry was beginning to lose his shit a little bit.

Miyagi
—————

(Scourge) 16:28

fukn freakn out - lost moon

(Scourge) 16:28

been lookn 4 hrs

(Miyagi) 16:30

no ones seen her?

(Scourge) 16:31

askd evry1 ive seen no 1 has seen her

(Miyagi) 16:32

think the assholes did something?

(Scourge) 16:33

fuk i havnt seen them 2day

(Miyagi) 16:34

id check it out kid

(Miyagi) 16:34

situation sounds off

(Scourge) 16:35

ill kill em both

(Miyagi) 16:36

find your girl first

(Scourge) 16:37

kk gtg fnd sme asshls n hopfully moon

(Scourge) 16:38

ill updte whn i can

(Miyagi) 16:39

stay safe n be smart kid

(Scourge) 16:39

kk ttyl

- Afternoon of December 13^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Greenhouse #7, Hogwarts -

He never ran into Ron or Hermione because it was Neville who eventually helped them in their search. He didn’t know where Luna was, but he said that Ron and Hermione were being particularly mean to her lately. He said that they sometimes used the back part of greenhouse number 7 when they were ‘practicing’ their fighting on with Neville. He suggested that the boys might look there for Luna, since they hadn’t been able to find her anywhere else.

Harry nodded and took off for the greenhouses without saying anything else to Neville. He left Theo and pretty boy there to deal with the polite little details of ‘thank you for helping us find our friend’ and whatnot. (Which would probably be handled by Theo and not pretty boy. The stuck up brat wouldn’t lower himself to thank a Gryffindor plebeian any day of the week, no matter how helpful they had been.)

He reached the greenhouse in record time, calling out Luna’s name as he walked through the doors. It was Sunday. The greenhouse was currently empty, and it wouldn’t be used until Tuesday for the first and second year’s classes. Harry searched up and down the rows, under the tables of plants, but he didn’t see anything. He stopped in the middle of the greenhouse and dropped his head in defeat.

As he stood there, he felt a tingling come from the walls of the greenhouse. It felt like the magic of the school seeping out in loose tendrils to greet him. He walked over and put his hand on the wall, then leaned his head against it.

Harry reared his head back and jerked his hand away from the wall in shock. He looked suspiciously around for who had just spoken to him. He tentatively whispered, “Erm, hello? I’m lookin’ for my friend? Luna Lovegood? Do you know if she’s around here?”

“Uh, thanks, odd, disembodied voice.” He looked around again, trying to see if someone had decided to show their face and acknowledge that they were the one speaking, but no one had.

“Uh, well, I’m gonna go get her now. Sorry to rush off, but I’m pretty worried. Thanks again!”

“Riiiggght, okay. Uh, welp, I’m out. This is too bizarre. You’ve been awesome, though. I hope we can chat again sometime when I have more time, but I gotta get Luna now,” Harry said in a rushed tone as he started to run out of the greenhouse.

“Seriously, fuckin’ thanks, though,” he yelled over his shoulder as he sprinted toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

- Late Afternoon, December 13^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts -

She was bound to a tree, facing into the forest, and had obviously been petrified. His cherished fuckin’ Moon was bound to a goddamn tree. The scene looked a lot like the one he had set up with Professor Trelawney before Harry sicced the wolves on her. But this was his fuckin' precious Luna-beam. Nobody puts Moonbeam on a tree in the forest… Nobody!

He was pissed. He was angry.

To put it mildly… he was livid.

Her eyes were open in fear, and her hair was filthy. It was matted with blood and filled with twigs and dirt from the forest. Harry could tell that someone had hurt her badly before they had stuck her there. Her usually clean and orderly robes were torn and wrinkled. Her cork necklace had been ripped from her neck and the corks had fallen around her feet. Her shoes were gone. (Again) As he got closer, he could see dried tear tracks on her face.

He instantly cast a reparifors as he stood in front of her, ready to catch her as she fell. She collapsed into his arms and immediately curled into his shoulder, seeking protection. He held on tightly, and rocked her as she cried. He couldn’t understand what she was saying through her tears, so he just rubbed her back and kissed her temple, murmuring comforting phrases to help her calm down. He told her that he was there… he was there… and he would make everything better.

By the time she calmed down enough to tell her story, Harry had planned at least fifty different ways to kill the two who had done this to her. He hated that she had been hurt. He hated that anyone had even touched a single hair on her head just because she was friends with him.

He’d kill ‘em. He’d fuckin’ kill ‘em all.

“I’m so sorry, Scourge,” Luna sobbed into his neck as she held onto him. “I told them about you. I didn’t mean to. I am so, so sorry.”

“Shh, shh, Moonbeam. It’s fine. It will all be fine,” Harry whispered as he continued to rock her. He slowly guided her to sit down with him. He sat cross legged on the ground with her in his lap. “What did you tell them?”

Luna sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I t..told them that th…the Wrackspurts would find them out and y..you would get vengeance,” she cried.

“Ah huh. Did you tell them my name?” He asked quietly. Curious, but not judgmental.

She leaned back and gave him a confused look. “Of course I did… that’s why I’m so sorry. I told them Scourge was going to get them and all of the Nargles that were helping them out! Oh, I have gone and ruined everything! They'll know your list!”

Harry quirked a small smile at her. “So, they know the name Scourge, but not my… uh… human name? I guess we could call it that.”

Luna wrinkled her nose and nodded her head, dirty blond hair flopping around her face. “Yes, silly, that’s what I’ve been saying this whole time. I gave them your real name, not your fake ones. That’s why I feel so bad.” Her head dropped and her lips formed a small pout, while silent tears still fell from her eyes.

Wrapping her even tighter in a hug, Harry tucked her head under his chin. “Luna-beam. You’re safe now. That’s all that matters. That's all I care about. I’m gonna fix everything. I don’t care that they know my name. They were gonna learn it real soon anyway. Now they’ll just meet Scourge sooner rather than later. Don't worry your pretty little Moonbeam head about it.”

He leaned back and tipped her face up so that her silver blue eyes met his green. Using his thumb, he wiped the tears from her cheeks, but they kept slowly falling. He absolutely hated that he couldn’t stop her tears. He really wished that he didn’t suck so bad at all this feelings shit. He pleaded with her, “You need to not be sad right now. What will make you happy? Tell me and I’ll do it. Anything.”

She just shook her head weakly and curled back into his chest, fiddling with the bottom of her robe.

“Hey! What if I sing? I could sing to you. You sing to me all the fuckin' time. My voice is shit, so you don’t get to make fun,” he said as he waggled a finger at her in jest. “But it might cheer you up some, yeah? I remember some songs from when I was younger with Frank…”

“That wasn’t horrible at all, Scourge. Thank you.” She tried her best to give him a smile with her reddened puffy eyes and dirt streaked face. But, it didn’t work out so well since it was all wobbly. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just stay away from the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks who are out to get me. They’re being particularly cruel right now.”

“That’s not enough. You're still not smiling like my happy little Moonbeam usually does,” Harry said worriedly, tapping his fingers lightly on her palm to stop her fidgeting. “Hey! I know… You should spend Christmas with me ‘n Frank!! Would that make you happy?”

Luna turned her face to look at his and fuckin’ beamed.

Harry figured the ass kicking that he would get from Frank for not asking permission about this was worth it. He’d do just about anything in the world to see that smile again.

Chapter Text

He’d do just about anything in the world to see that smile again.

- Night of December 13^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Harry’s Dorm Room, Hogwarts -

Miyagi

(Scourge) 22:12

heyyy gud news

(Miyagi) 22:14

you find her?

(Scourge) 22:14

ya shes ok now

(Miyagi) 22:16

good you fuck em up?

(Scourge) 22:21

not yet lol

(Scourge) 22:22

so heeyyyy cn i brng a frnd 4 xmas

(Miyagi) 22:23

what? where? not our place

(Scourge) 22:25

uh ya?

(Miyagi) 22:26

ah jesus fuck kid

(Miyagi) 22:26

what the fuck did you promise her

(Scourge) 22:28

she culd stay w/ us?

(Scourge) 22:29

ʘ‿ʘ

(Miyagi) 22:31

in our house?

(Scourge) 22:31

um ya?

(Miyagi) 22:32

in our -safe- house?

(Scourge) 22:35

pleeeeze

(Miyagi) 22:36

sigh it ok w/ her dad?

(Scourge) 22:37

probably

(Miyagi) 22:39

fine but you keep her safe while shes here

(Scourge) 22:41

frank u da best!!!!!!!!!

(Miyagi) 22:43

go to bed kid

- December 19^th - 24^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- London -

The Christmas break from school had started wonderfully. After a bit of negotiation on Luna’s part, Luna’s dad had agreed to let her stay with Harry and his ‘family’. Frank even wrote Xenophilius Lovegood an owl. (Harry almost shit himself when he learned that Frank had used fuckin’ parchment and everything. He used a Bic pen instead of a quill, but still!!! Parchment!!!)

Apparently Xenophilius wanted to search South America for Bowtruckles and Thunderbirds, so he was fine with Luna staying back with them in London. Luna was a little disappointed at missing the trip with her father, but she was happy to be staying with Harry and Frank for the duration of the holiday.

They had plans to visit Malfoy Manor for New Year’s Eve. However, until then, they were free to mess around in London and just be normal. Harry was pretty happy to take a little break from his massive revenge plot. He, like Luna, was a little bummed that he wasn’t off doing his traditional holiday plans. (Of course, his normal plans were more along the lines of going off and destroying things with Frank.) Hanging out with his best friend was worth the slight change of plans, though.

Besides, she hadn’t stopped fuckin’ smiling since they left Hogwarts. He hadn’t realized how much the two assholes had been stressing her out.

He was going to need to take care of that… soon.

Wade LOVED Luna. He thought she was the most wonderfully interesting person he had ever held a conversation with. Harry wondered if either of them actually even existed in this world or if they were maybe just characters in some weird universe in their own minds. He enjoyed hanging out with both of them individually… so both of them together just meant twice the crazy and twice the fun.

“Mr. Pool, you have such an aura of darkness around you. I would have thought that red would be your color, but you are more inclined to have black surround you. Odd. Is it because you speak to the creator of this world? The one who kills you all the time? I mostly speak with the Moon Frogs. They are the ones who tell me you understand that there are other forces that influence us. Forces that write out our lives... Are you?” Luna asked Wade, tilting her head to the side and sending him one of her thousand-yard gazes.

Wade snorted incredulously. “First of all... you know about the author??? Or actually, wait. Let’s just focus one hot second on the fact that you called me Mr. Pool!” He looked at her, at the reader, then back at her. “I’ve never been called that. I think the reader just snorted chocolate milk through their nose.”

Luna sent him a dreamy, knowing smile. “Oh, I doubt it, Mr. Pool. You should ask before you assume. They are apparently allergic to milk. It is probably some sort of juice they are drinking.”

Bringing his hand up to scratch the top of his masked head, he mused, “Huh, allergic?”

He looked out at the reader and shook his head in sympathy. “Wow, that’s fuckin’ shitty, dude. Almond and soy milk suck. Well, unless they are in a chai tea latte. Oh! I love a decent chai tea. I should get one of those. Are you, like, full-on lactose intolerant? Or, can you have cheese? I’d literally die if I couldn’t have cheese. Of course, getting the shits would be worth it for some good melty nachos. MMMmmmm nachos!” He turned to look at Luna and Harry. “Mexican food! Let’s go!”

Logan came to officially meet Luna and hang out with Frank on the second day of the holiday. Harry figured he probably just wanted to be away from the X-Guys and drink some beer with someone who didn’t want to always fill the peace and quiet with pointless noise. Frank was good at quiet. (Wade, not so much.)

Luna was surprisingly good at quiet too.

Harry and Frank walked into the living room and stopped abruptly at the picture that greeted them. Logan had a beer in one hand and his other hand was held out to Luna who sat in front of him on the floor. She was holding one of his fingers cautiously, humming quietly under her breath. Next to her on the ground was a bottle of pink glitter nail polish. (Harry could only assume that Wade was the reason she was able to find the bottle at their house.) She stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth as she concentrated on painting Logan’s nail.

Logan looked up from where he was watching the game on TV, and raised a brow in their direction. With his deadpan stare, he dared them to say anything. Frank grunted in disbelief and shook his head. He grabbed a cold beer and sat down in the old recliner next to the couch, started watching TV, and ignored the whole situation happening between the girl and his friend.

Harry’s mouth was opened slightly in shock, but he also wisely chose to say nothing. There wasn’t an uncomfortable silence with all of them sitting quietly in the room. He didn’t know why it was necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable anyway.

Besides, if sitting there quietly while Luna gave Logan a manicure made her happy, he was all for it. And, if the grumpy mutant allowed it, who was he to say anything?

Frank and Luna… well, they certainly were different from each other. It became quite evident one afternoon when she came upon him organizing his gun safe.

“Ooohh, Mr. Punisher, sir, that one is so pretty!” Luna exclaimed, pointing at a Barrett M82 long range sniper rifle. She reached out to touch it, but Frank quickly pushed her hand to the side.

“Don’t touch the guns.”

She squinted at his stern face and lightly poked him in the chest. “We should make them even prettier! I think Scourge would like a unicorn and glitter on his. You would probably do best with,” she said dreamily as she tilted her head to the side. She hummed in thought for a moment. “Purple? Maybe we could find a Fwooper to give us some feathers to stick on there. You would definitely blend in to the environment then. Of course you might need to add in a little bit of shed Pygmy Niffler fur. Yes, that would make you almost invisible when you are hunting down the elflike Erklings.”

Frank actually broke his normal impassive, stern face while listening to her talk. His jaw was slightly slackened as he attempted to understand while Luna explained the need to ‘bedazzle’ his weapons.

Harry spent the entire conversation trying not to collapse on the floor in laughter. He snapped a quick picture of Frank’s face and sent it off to Wade and Logan. They would appreciate it.

Harry loved hanging out with Luna in London. They went to the movies. Wade sometimes tagged along. (“Make sure you're leaving room for Jesus between you two!!!”)

They ate at crappy restaurants. Luna discovered that pizza was her new favorite obsession. Harry almost broke up their friendship over her desire to put pineapple, anchovies, tomato ketchup and peanut butter on hers. But, like every other time, he gave into his Moon. He eventually just smiled indulgently and paid for a second normal pizza for himself. He was not gonna share her shitty ass pizza. (Fuckin’ yuk.)

Christmas was coming up, though, and Harry had ideas about what he wanted to get for his Luna-beam. He just needed a little help with his plan.

“You sure you want to do this, kid?” Frank asked a couple days before Christmas Eve as he sat on the couch cleaning his Kimbers.

Harry bounced on his toes and fiddled with his knife. “Yep. I think it’d be perfect. I just need you, Wade, ‘n Logan to help me put it all together.”

Frank sent him an appraising look. “You think she’d be able to do it?”

Pursing his lips, Harry gave Frank a determined nod. “Pretty sure. She’s not some delicate fuckin’ flower or nothin’. Not like you,” Harry smirked.

“Very funny, kid.” Frank put his gun down on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, it’s a good idea. Creative. But, I just want to make sure that you know what you’re gettin’ into. She might not be… receptive.”

Harry looked down at his boots for a moment then met Frank’s gaze dead on. “Nah, we’re doin’ it. If you're cool with it, that is. She’ll think it's neat. Enjoy it, even. Probably tell us all about some imaginary animal who had done something like this before.”

Frank raised a brow and curled one lip in a smirk. “You found you a little crazy one, didn’t ya? Well good, she’ll need to be a little crazy for this.” He leaned forward to continue cleaning his gun then pointed a finger toward Harry. “You’re on clean up duty, though.”

Beaming at Frank, Harry hurriedly promised that he would make sure that everything was pristine when it was all said and done.

- 21:30 on December 24^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Safehouse Basement (British Baby GTMO), London -

The present was all set up and Harry was buzzing with excitement. Severus had even donated a little gift of Dreamless Sleep Potion for the bitch’s parents. Frank and Logan made sure that her parents would sleep soundly through the night while the revelry at the safehouse was going on. Then, when they woke up on Christmas… well, it would probably be a very memorable Christmas for the Granger family to say the least.

“Hey, Luna-beam,” Harry grinned as he walked up to the blond girl who was eating a snack in the kitchen.

She turned a smile on him, cheeks slightly puffed out like a chipmunk from eating one of her new favorite snack foods, the Oreo. (Harry still couldn’t believe that they didn’t sell them in the UK!⁽¹⁾ He would have to get Wade and Logan to keep a stash here especially for Luna.)

He snickered at her stuffed face and the chocolate crumbs on her mouth. “When you’re done here - and I know your chocolate is important, so please don’t rush - but when you’re done, I have a present for you.”

Luna cocked her head to the side in question and took a sip of milk to swallow her bite. “What is it?”

Harry reached out a thumb and wiped a crumb off her chin, “It’s a surprise, silly."

"Surprise? Why?"

“It’s Christmas Eve, my little Moon. It’s the one night of the year when we all act a little nicer. (Ha!) We smile a little easier. (Oh, they would definitely be grinning.) We cheer a little more. (Yay for torture!) For a couple of hours out of the whole year we are the people that we always hoped we would be. And, in our case, it's a little different. It's a little more, um, vindictive and torture-ey? Now, you ready? Come on, follow me.”

“Where are we going?” She asked while she bounced on her toes, clearly excited.

Harry shot a smirk her way, “You ever play poker?”

They walked downstairs into the British Baby GTMO, where Luna was met with a wonderful sight. Frank, Logan and Wade were sitting at a circular poker table off in one corner of the room. Two empty spots were set, waiting for them to join. The table came complete with snacks (Oreos, of course), drinks (Wade even made Luna one of their special root beer floats) and a deck of playing cards. The only thing that was missing were poker chips. Instead, next to each chair was a writing pad and pencil. Next to the table was a long bench filled with various weapons: knives, swords, handguns, razor blades, brass knuckles, pliers, a machete, and throwing stars. (The last one obviously being Wade's contribution.)

In the corner opposite the table was a body shackled to the wall. It was a girl dressed in pajama shorts and a tank top. She had a blindfold over her eyes, duct tape over her mouth and had obvious signs of putting up a fight before her captors were able to get her locked to the wall. She was conscious, but it was obvious to Harry that she had stopped trying to fight or cry. At this point she was probably resigned to her fate.

He grinned. It had to be pretty fuckin’ scary to be kidnapped and held by three huge menacing guys. (Well, two menacing and one fuckin’ insane.)

Luna’s eyes widened as she recognized that it was Hermione who was shackled to the wall. Her evaluation of the scene next included the weapons and the poker table, and then she eagerly looked up at Harry.

“Are we going to play a game?"

Harry gently drew her over to her chair and the men at the table began instructing Luna on the rules of poker. Frank, ever the planner and parental figure, had made up a list of hands for her to follow so that she knew which ones would beat the others.

“Okay,” Harry explained (mostly to Luna), “the rules of this game are a bit different. We’re betting torture methods. Whoever wins the hand gets to do whatever is bet to the bitch stuck on the wall over there.” Harry heard Granger whimper through the duct tape at that statement, and curled his lip in a snarl. “She deserves all this shit. She fuckin’ left Luna out to be eaten in the forest after she and that other ginger fuck had petrified and tortured her.”

Logan’s claws instinctually snicked out of the fist that wasn’t holding his beer, but he quickly retracted them and sent an apologetic nod in Luna’s direction. (It was pretty rare that Logan was apologetic. But, this was Luna they were dealing with. She had the tendency to bring the protective feelings out in everyone.) Harry could tell that all the men at the table were murderously pissed about the Granger girl’s actions toward his friend.

Before the first hand, while the other men were explaining the ins and outs of poker to Luna, Harry went over to Granger and whispered in her ear. “Hey Granger, just so you know, you shouldn’t have fucked with my friend. People who fuck with my family die. You fucked with my family, bitch, so you’re gonna die tonight. And we’re all gonna have fun playin’ with you until you do.”

Harry took out his knife and ran it down her stomach, pushing it into her belly button and twisting it a little. She flinched away, turning her head and whimpering behind the tape even more. “I’m gonna have so much fun watching my little Luna-beam take her revenge on your shitty ass. And my fucked-up family is here to help. You’re gonna feel every little bit of pain that you caused my friend. And more. So, so much more. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

He ran the knife down further and poked the tip of it into her skin, just above the curve of her hip, nicking her a little. Blood welled up in the small scratch and he chuckled.

“You should have stayed away. That would have been the smart thing. You weren’t even really on The Scourge’s original list of people to kill. You were just an annoyance. A gnat.” Hermione jerked in recognition at the name and Harry laughed. “But you just had to stick your head in ‘n go ‘n make a big mistake. Big. Huge. Have fun! I know I’m gonna.”

Walking back to the poker table, Harry sat down next to Luna while Logan dealt the first hand. Logan chomped on his cigar and looked at his cards. He wrote something on his pad, folded the paper, then tossed it in the middle of the table.

Frank, Wade and Harry followed suit. Each of them writing their torture method down and throwing it into the pot.

Luna sucked on the end of her pen while scrunching her forehead. She had yet to look at the hand she was dealt. She wrote her bet on the paper and put it in the pot, never once glancing at her cards.

Logan lifted a brow, gesturing at her cards with his cigar. “Ya gonna look at your cards there, bub?”

She sent a vague smile his way. “No, Mr. James, don’t worry. I already know I won, so I don’t need to look at them.”

Harry snorted at the use of Logan’s real name while Frank sent her a dubious look.

Wade looked up at the ‘author’ and whined, “Are you shitting me here? You gonna give her every win, or do I actually get to use my katanas this time? Or a gun. It’s been a long ass time since you allowed me to do anything really fun. I mean, besides eat Mexican food… not that I’m complaining! Poker is fun! Oh shit! Don’t write me out of the book!! I’m not complaining... I swear I’m not. Please don’t be the first author in these fandoms to find something that will actually permanently kill me.” He dropped his head in his hands before mumbling, “Fuck… shutting up now.”

Frank slapped him upside the head to stop his rant, then they went ‘round the table trading in cards to better their hands. Luna sat there serenely, watching them without even touching her cards. Wade grumbled about the unfairness of it all, while Logan told him repeatedly to shut up. (Eventually, the claws had to make an appearance before Wade actually stopped complaining.)

When they finally turned their cards over, it was no surprise to Harry that Luna had won. She bounced in her chair with excitement. Harry smiled indulgently as he opened her paper and read out loud. “Have Wade help me take off her toenails since we have so much fun painting each other’s nails.”

Granger started crying behind her tape in earnest as Luna and Wade walked excitedly over. Wade instructed her on how to correctly pull off a nail with the best pressure and most pain caused. Harry, Frank and Logan watched impassively as the girl strung up on the wall started letting out muffled screams, thrashing ineffectively in an attempt to get away.

Harry met Frank’s eyes and nodded in gratitude. What a fun gift this was turning out to be.

Luna won most of the hands, either due to her ‘weird knowledge of her cards’ or because the other men threw their hands. Harry would send them a grateful smile every time that they helped her win. Enabling her to take her own revenge on her tormentor was very important to all of them.

Through their bets and Luna’s wins, Frank taught her how to hold and fire a handgun properly. She efficiently took out one of Granger’s kneecaps and shot her in the thigh, amidst the blubbering and tears of the tortured girl.

Logan showed her how to stab into the side of a victim, causing the most pain while ensuring to miss the vital organs. This was a great technique so that the torture could continue as long as possible. He used his claws… she used Harry’s favorite knife. (That he happily let her borrow.)

Wade was thrilled to teach her how to throw stars correctly so they stuck in Granger’s skin… deep. He also showed her how to appropriately hold a katana and swing it so she could use the least amount of energy to gain the most amount of pain. (Wade was almost having as much fun as Luna, for which he repeatedly thanked the author.)

And Harry... Harry showed his best girl how to make pretty pictures on their victim’s skin. He helped Luna carve pictures of stars, hearts, rainbows, and even a few of her imaginary animals. (She loved drawing that shit, and Wade loved the rainbows for some fuckin’ reason.)

Granger had all but passed out from the pain and blood loss. Luna was covered in the girl’s blood and grinning, a little maniacal twinkle in her eye. Harry looked at her and felt so… fuckin’… proud. This must have been what Frank felt like when Harry was learning how to properly torture a victim when he was younger.

The three older men had pretty much bowed out from the rest of the torture, instead they sat and enjoyed their beers. Watching what the crazy kids were getting up to. Frank was merely staying there to supervise, since Luna was new at all of this and her dad had entrusted her to his care. Logan’s face was a relaxed mask. He was leaning back in his chair, smoking and finishing his cheap beer. Wade had gotten distracted by drawing pictures on his pad of paper that was provided at the beginning of the game. He ended up with a pretty awesome flip book of Granger’s torture from beginning to end.

Frank called the game when Granger finally passed out, her head falling to her chest and her body dripping blood all over the tarp covering the floor. He took one of the provided Glock 19s and walked over to Luna.

“You wanna finish it, Sprite?”

She sent an adoring smile his way and nodded. “I would be honored, Mr. Punisher, sir.”

Harry chuckled quietly at the honorific she had tagged Frank with. In his opinion that was worse than ‘Mr. Miyagi’, but Frank wasn’t correcting her so Harry kept his mouth shut.

Frank gestured to Harry with the gun and ordered curtly, “Here, teach your friend about a double tap.”

Harry took the weapon and steered Luna over to where Granger hung, limp, bloody and almost dead. He helped her line up the shot to the girl’s head, and Luna fired. The hit was a little off center, but Harry was proud since the girl had only fired a weapon one other time. He let her fire the shot to the chest by herself. She still jerked with the recoil. He knew that would go away with experience, though. The shots were effective, and Granger was officially a non-issue anymore.

One down... one to go.

Luna gave the weapon back to Harry, who checked the safety, cleared it and dropped the magazine. She smiled at the other three men and said, “I think I really like poker now. It is such a fun game. We should play again soon.”

Wade cackled at her statement, and Frank looked almost proud. (Harry figured it was because of how she had performed during her first ‘interrogation’ and kill.)

She swung her arms back and forth as she continued, “You have all been so nice to me, and so very helpful. I bet that you will be visited soon by some Snidgets and Pygmy Puffs in your dreams.”

Logan snorted and shook his head at the little girl. Frank lightly patted her on the head. Wade propped himself up on one elbow and mused, “You know, I’ve never seen a Snidget. Sounds fun. Sounds pretty cool, actually. Sounds like midget… and I do love me some midgets.”

Harry put his arm around Luna and pulled her into his side. “Well, Frank ‘n Logan said they’d take Granger back home, all wrapped up pretty-like. Don’t want her parents missing her or nothin’. Family should be together on Christmas, after all. And, while they're doing that, you, Wade ‘n I ‘volunteered’ for clean-up duty.”

Wade groaned and dropped his head on the table. “I fucking knew the author would get the last laugh.”

Luna giggled.

- Morning of December 25^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Granger Home, Hampstead -

Mr. and Mrs. Granger woke from their sleep on Christmas morning. Both of them felt slightly groggy, not remembering the evening before or how they even got into their beds. It was later than they usually woke up. Their daughter had not even come in to wake them up yet for their traditional Christmas morning breakfast and gifts.

Mrs. Granger walked down to their daughter’s room and knocked lightly on the door, calling out to her. Receiving no answer, she knocked a little louder. She, again, received no answer so she opened the door to wake her daughter, excited to give her the gifts they had specially chosen for her last Christmas at home.

The scene that greeted her caused the woman to freeze in shock, unable to make a noise to alert her husband. Her daughter was propped up on the bed in a seated position. Her head had lolled to the side and was topped with a Santa hat. She could see a bullet hole through her forehead and dried blood and tears streaked down her face. There was gray tape over her mouth, but a wide, clownish smile was drawn in garish red marker on it. Her body, while still dressed in her ripped and ruined night clothes, was covered in stab wounds, bullet wounds, cuts, horrific carvings, dried blood, and missing finger and toenails. To top off the horrific picture, a large red bow was stuck to her chest while a sign saying ‘Merry Christmas Grangers’ was propped up in her lap.

Mrs. Granger finally found her voice and screamed.

- December 25^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- Safehouse, London -

Harry had already given his gifts to the guys, sent his gifts off to the wizards that lived at Malfoy Manor and had gotten his from all of his friends and his dad. (He had even sent Ragnok a fuckin’ fruit basket.) It was a pretty fuckin’ great Christmas in his opinion. The only thing left was to give Luna her present.

She sat near the taped-up drawing of a Christmas tree that Wade had drawn for them a few days earlier. Frank allowed it to be put on the wall, as it was pretty much his only concession to their desire for holiday decorations. (“Fuckin’ pointless. Waste of time to put ‘em up. Waste of time to take ‘em down. Just give a fuckin’ gift… or don’t… then be done with the damn day.”)

Harry plopped down next to her and handed her a (poorly) wrapped box. She peered at it for a moment and then squinted at him. “You already gave me my gift, Scourge. What is this?”

Sending her a sly smile, Harry snickered. “Eh, I wanted to give you something to remember this Christmas by. So… here.”

“You’re so silly, Scourge. Don’t you know?” She asked him impishly, before breaking into quiet song.

Harry chortled at her bastardization of the Mariah Carey song that had been playing non-stop on every radio in every store that they had visited during their holiday. Fuck, he would never get enough of hanging out with this crazy girl.

She opened the box slowly, attempting to save the wrapping. (He didn't know why she was even bothering. It wasn’t salvageable. Harry had royally fucked up the whole wrapping process with too much tape and bizarre ass folding techniques.) Pulling out a small, colorful package decorated with unicorns, she turned it over and started giggling uncontrollably. She leaned in to give him a side hug while holding her newest treasure to her chest.

Whispering into his side, she said, “I love them, Scourge. I’m so happy to have my own set. I’ll have to teach daddy how to play poker now.”

Chapter Text

Albus’ headache was threatening severely to break through his forehead. Even a pain potion from Severus didn’t seem to completely rid him of the throbbing pressure and pain. It also didn’t help that the sheer amount of racket coming from the gathered Order members had reached epic proportions.

It wasn't usually this loud at their meetings. But since they had recently had to relocate their meeting location from the Potter house to his office, just the amount of people packed in one room alone caused a massive increase in the noise. That wasn’t even considering when the Order members were yelling over each other regarding their current state of financial affairs and recent personal issues.

He couldn't believe that Gringotts had seized the home they had been using for their headquarters! Sure, it was part of the Potter estate, but it was not being used and had obviously been ignored by the Castiglione Lord. Albus had assumed they would never get caught. Besides, the fidelus there still held. Or it had, until the goblins came and broke it. They then proceeded to seize the heirlooms inside and kick the Order all to the curb.

What a mess.

He had also been informed by the Granger family that their daughter was found murdered on Christmas in a most violent and brutal fashion. It was yet another in a string of very ‘muggle-type’ murders of wizards within their circle. Even more irksome, it was one of his soldiers that he was training to fight against Voldemort and his evil machinations who had died.

The girl’s body had been horrifically mutilated then shot. Aurors had taken over the case, obliviating the constables and investigators who had come to Hampstead when the Grangers had originally called in the murder. They investigated the scene, checked the Grangers over for dark magic, and checked the girl’s home for anything that might be traced back to the wizarding world.

Yet, no matter how much they searched, there was no suspect in the murder. The aurors were completely baffled. Kingsley had never seen anything like this in his many years on the force. There was no magical signature. The death was seemingly random, however horrible. It appeared to be a muggle robbery gone wrong, or a simple muggle break and entry. The oddest thing, however, was how personal the murder seemed. Just like the Dursleys, whose murder had still not been solved. It was just like poor, poor Arabella.

All of these deaths struck Albus as just too personal, just too close to the Harry Potter conspiracy.

Moody was becoming even more paranoid about these murders and unexplained deaths. He knew some of the history of the Harry Potter conspiracy. He was one of the original Order members that discovered a little of what Albus was up to. However, he understood the reasoning for doing this for the greater good, so he kept quiet about that part. But all these deaths were causing the man to become a liability. Albus would definitely have to monitor Moody’s actions as the days went by.

But, yes, this whole situation was becoming very, very disconcerting to Albus. As his Order members were thinning in ranks, his frustration was gaining in strength.

Albus could tell that Tom was recently moving in more and more underhanded ways. Laws were being passed that allowed for more open use of Darker magic. Dark creatures were being given more rights. To put it mildly, these new laws that had been passed were not beneficial for the Light’s agenda. At all.

Kingsley kept Albus informed of the goings on at the Ministry. Jobs were being taken by those who were either known Death Eaters or supporters of the cause. They were supposedly doing this ‘legally’, but Albus knew better. The Dark forces would never do anything above board. They would always try to subvert the system. Their sole mission was to extinguish the Light and good forces of magic in the wizarding world. They would always work against true magic.

No, Albus needed to get a handle on this situation soon.

Clearing his throat to cut through the arguments in the room, he said as calmly as he could, “Friends, friends, we need to remain calm through this latest minor hindrance. The Light has been persecuted before. Not to worry, though, we will prevail.”

Minerva screeched at him, “Hindrance??? This is’na hindrance, Albus! ‘Tis a war! We've no money anymore. I canna’ access my vaults at Gringotts. They say ‘tis a ‘error’ that’ll be fixed, but they canna’ tell me when. And I know I’m not th’ only one! All of us have at least one or more of our vaults frozen right now.”

Tonks piped in as soon as Minerva stopped with her rant. “Mine and mum’s vaults are frozen as well. We were told that it could be months before our money is accessible. Months… and with no real explanation why. Mother is beside herself. She can’t maintain her household with no income. At least I’m still getting my pay from working with the aurors, but that isn’t enough to support all of us.”

“It all seems a bit fishy if you ask me, Albus,” Elphias Doge mused. “It seems to me that only those who belong to your Order have been affected.” He peered over at the aged Headmaster and narrowed his eyes slightly. “Why is that Albus? We’ve never had to deal with these sorts of issues. It’s always been a cut and dried fight against the Dark. Here, we have no idea who we are even fighting. The bank is even involved, and the goblins never involve themselves in the personal dealings of wizards. Yes, the whole thing seems very fishy to me.”

Molly and Arthur were sitting to the side of Albus’ desk. Molly was staying blessedly quiet for once in her life. For that, Albus was immensely grateful. The way that woman’s voice grated on his nerves was more than he could probably deal with right then. She rocked back and forth with silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Albus conjured a handkerchief and handed it to the grieving woman, receiving a grateful nod in return.

She finally ruined Albus’ reprieve from having to hear her shrill voice and blubbered loudly, “That’s three innocent children, Albus! THREE! Two of my babies and one of their good friends. Who will be next?? I do not care about the money… as much… I care about our lives! The lives of the children! Why are we not thinking of the children?? Not only that, but who could possibly be doing this to us? We’ve done nothing wrong!”

There were mumbles of agreement and frustration about loss of funds and loss of companions rippling through the meeting. Albus finally stopped them before they spiraled into another loud ruckus that would increase the tension headache that he couldn’t quite seem to get rid of. He looked over to Severus, who had remained quiet during the whole proceeding, and asked, “Severus, my boy, do you have anything to add to this meeting? Any insights from something you might have learned during your extra duties?”

Severus sent everyone a sneer and remarked dryly, “Although Voldemort seems to be glad about the current state of affairs, he is most definitely not personally responsible for any of this. Of that I can be sure.”

Taking his glasses off and pinching his nose in frustration, Albus sighed. This was not shaping up to be a very good New Year. No, not at all.

He would need to triple his lemon drop order.

I’ll have to teach daddy how to play poker now.

- December 28^th, 1997 (17 Years Old) -
- London -

Frank, Logan and Wade decided against going to the Manor for the Malfoy’s New Year’s Eve ‘soiree’. Logan said that Wade wasn’t allowed to go, much to Wade’s disappointment. But Logan, ever the wise influence on the crazy Merc with a Mouth, realized that having an insane, masked, red spandexed, katana wielding, anti-hero in the mix of the pompous ass wizarding elite was just asking for trouble. And Frank, well, he didn’t give one shit about going to some stuck up fuckin’ party full of ‘assholes’. (As he called them.) He’d rather stay at their home in London and watch TV while drinking beer in comfortable clothes.

He did tell Harry that he and Luna should go. (“Girls like to dress up ‘n shit, kid. You should take her. Besides, you learned to dance with all those fuckin’ lessons they made you take. You should use that shit for somethin’.” Frank snorted and continued, "Can't imagine you using it by fuckin' waltzin' in a sniper's nest durin' an op.")