Harry shivered and stomped his feet, trying to make himself feel warm again. He'd woken up here in this little room a while ago. It was dark, and cold, and there was nothing in it. No mattress, no furniture, not even a light. He'd explored, slowly, just in case there was something else in there. When he'd first woken up he had thought he'd heard something. A scratching on the walls kind of sound. But there was nothing and no one. He'd yelled himself hoarse, trying to get someone to come. If they opened the door, maybe he could run out. But no one had come, and he'd given it up eventually.
He didn't remember how he'd gotten there, and he'd been trying. He knew he'd been at the Carpenters', talking to John. They'd been talking about the thing with the giant dog, the- the word came to him, out of nowhere, like things had been doing lately. The loup-garou. And then there'd been an explosion or something, and he'd run because Murphy was out front. John had tried to stop him and he'd thrown him into a wall. Harry winced at that. He liked John, he knew that much. And he felt bad for maybe hurting the man. But it was Murphy. And that fearful knowledge changed things. Made him do stupid stuff.
Or he thought it did, anyway. The thought felt right. Like it fit. Like he'd thought it before. Only he couldn't remember thinking it before. Or why he might have thought it before.
He slumped to the floor, head in his hands. His head was starting to ache, right behind his eyes.
Harry didn't know how long he sat there in the dark, eyes closed against it. He might have even started to drift off, because the scrape of a key in a lock made him jump, his skin going tight and cold.
The light coming from the doorway was soft, muted and it still made his eyes water it was so bright after what felt like forever in absolute darkness. Harry pushed himself to his feet, keeping his back to the wall and started trying to pull his magic and his will together.
It was hard, harder than it should have been. His head ached, he was tired and cold and his concentration was scattered. The magic kept slipping out of his control and Harry felt embarrassment and frustration curl up next to the fear in his chest. This was why Justin was so hard on him. Why he trained him so hard, so roughly. So he could fight back no matter what. And he was still screwing up.
A figure stepped into the door way, backlit and featureless and Harry bit down on his tongue, tangled the scraps of magic he could hold on to together and threw them at the figure, croaking out "Fuego!"
There was a tiny lick of flame, a black curl of smoke and then nothing. The spell died out before it reached the figure and the effort left Harry exhausted and shaking. Something was wrong with him. The spell should have just died out. It shouldn't have hurt him to throw it.
"Impressive. I know grown wizards who couldn't put a spell together through those drugs." The figure moved forward into the room, his voice calm and slow. He was tall, an old man with sharp features and thick silver-white hair. There was some kind of accent thickening his voice, but it wasn't something Harry had ever heard before. "You really are something, aren't you?"
The man made a quick gesture and murmured something that sounded slick and slippery. Harry felt his body go stiff, pressed in from all around by congealed air. Whatever spell the man was using to bind him, it was a lot better than the one he and Elaine had been working on. He tried to fight, twisting, looking for a weak spot, but the spell had just enough give to it to keep it from being brittle.
After a few useless minutes of fighting, he slumped and shook his head to clear the tears out of his eyes. He was not going to cry. He might be scared, and hurt and alone, but he was not going to cry.
"W-what do you want?" Harry heard the tiny shake to his voice and hated it.
The man put his hand on Harry's head, ruffling the hair there like Michael did, like John had. Harry jerked his head, but couldn't get away.
"You're going to finally fulfill your purpose, Harry. The reason you were even born." He smiled, his teeth almost red in the light from the door. "It won't even hurt for long."
How you continue to churn out higher stakes and increasingly more complicated plot-lines/twists AMAZES me! You're incredible. I'm getting the same feeling from reading this, that I do from reading the books!
Please Please Please update, continue, and finish this fic.
From one of your rabid fans, who is constantly pushing the refresh button!
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Fill: 11/? scrappy!Harry prompt
(Anonymous) 2011-03-17 03:26 pm (UTC)(link)He didn't remember how he'd gotten there, and he'd been trying. He knew he'd been at the Carpenters', talking to John. They'd been talking about the thing with the giant dog, the- the word came to him, out of nowhere, like things had been doing lately. The loup-garou. And then there'd been an explosion or something, and he'd run because Murphy was out front. John had tried to stop him and he'd thrown him into a wall. Harry winced at that. He liked John, he knew that much. And he felt bad for maybe hurting the man. But it was Murphy. And that fearful knowledge changed things. Made him do stupid stuff.
Or he thought it did, anyway. The thought felt right. Like it fit. Like he'd thought it before. Only he couldn't remember thinking it before. Or why he might have thought it before.
He slumped to the floor, head in his hands. His head was starting to ache, right behind his eyes.
Harry didn't know how long he sat there in the dark, eyes closed against it. He might have even started to drift off, because the scrape of a key in a lock made him jump, his skin going tight and cold.
The light coming from the doorway was soft, muted and it still made his eyes water it was so bright after what felt like forever in absolute darkness. Harry pushed himself to his feet, keeping his back to the wall and started trying to pull his magic and his will together.
It was hard, harder than it should have been. His head ached, he was tired and cold and his concentration was scattered. The magic kept slipping out of his control and Harry felt embarrassment and frustration curl up next to the fear in his chest. This was why Justin was so hard on him. Why he trained him so hard, so roughly. So he could fight back no matter what. And he was still screwing up.
A figure stepped into the door way, backlit and featureless and Harry bit down on his tongue, tangled the scraps of magic he could hold on to together and threw them at the figure, croaking out "Fuego!"
There was a tiny lick of flame, a black curl of smoke and then nothing. The spell died out before it reached the figure and the effort left Harry exhausted and shaking. Something was wrong with him. The spell should have just died out. It shouldn't have hurt him to throw it.
"Impressive. I know grown wizards who couldn't put a spell together through those drugs." The figure moved forward into the room, his voice calm and slow. He was tall, an old man with sharp features and thick silver-white hair. There was some kind of accent thickening his voice, but it wasn't something Harry had ever heard before. "You really are something, aren't you?"
The man made a quick gesture and murmured something that sounded slick and slippery. Harry felt his body go stiff, pressed in from all around by congealed air. Whatever spell the man was using to bind him, it was a lot better than the one he and Elaine had been working on. He tried to fight, twisting, looking for a weak spot, but the spell had just enough give to it to keep it from being brittle.
After a few useless minutes of fighting, he slumped and shook his head to clear the tears out of his eyes. He was not going to cry. He might be scared, and hurt and alone, but he was not going to cry.
"W-what do you want?" Harry heard the tiny shake to his voice and hated it.
The man put his hand on Harry's head, ruffling the hair there like Michael did, like John had. Harry jerked his head, but couldn't get away.
"You're going to finally fulfill your purpose, Harry. The reason you were even born." He smiled, his teeth almost red in the light from the door. "It won't even hurt for long."
Re: Fill: 11/? scrappy!Harry prompt
(Anonymous) 2011-03-17 06:17 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: 11/? scrappy!Harry prompt
(Anonymous) 2011-03-18 05:09 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: 11/? scrappy!Harry prompt
(Anonymous) 2011-03-17 06:39 pm (UTC)(link)Please Please Please update, continue, and finish this fic.
From one of your rabid fans, who is constantly pushing the refresh button!
Re: Fill: 11/? scrappy!Harry prompt
(Anonymous) 2011-03-18 05:14 pm (UTC)(link)Seriously, if you guys had any idea how many times I almost deleted this whole fic because I looked at it and thought it was shit...
*shakes head*
I'm glad you're enjoying it, and I promise I will finish it! :D
OP here
(Anonymous) 2011-03-17 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)I love how you incorparate pieces of canon into this fic. :)
...Oh-oh, I have a feeling this has something to do with the outsiders... I hope Murphy and the others get there quickly.
Amazing chapters as usual. :D
Re: OP here
(Anonymous) 2011-03-18 05:16 pm (UTC)(link)Hmm...outsiders, you say? Maaybeeee....
Thank you!
Re: Fill: 11/? scrappy!Harry prompt
...well. If Adult Harry remember any of this, this is going to be....awkward.Oh dear.
OH FREAKING DEAR! :(
Re: Fill: 11/? scrappy!Harry prompt
(Anonymous) 2011-03-18 05:19 pm (UTC)(link)...well. If Adult Harry remember any of this, this is going to be....awkward.*snerk* Yeah...that would be awkward, wouldn't it? And I'd never do that to Harry...
Mine is an evil grin.