1,009Big Bad
Chapter 2
Derek narrowed his eyes as Peter's fingers blatantly hovered over the buttons while he prepared himself to make the call. He'd never seen Peter hesitant before and it made him and his wolf anxious. Hell, he didn't even show that much fear of Deucalion for gods sake. Something was very, very wrong and he wondered if he was making a mistake by asking for help from this person, Harry, whoever he was. Yet if he didn't get help soon, his Beta's were going to pay for his defiance. His decisions. He had chosen to turn them in order to get stronger when he realized they were coming. He had hoped they too would be strong enough for the fight that was coming on both ends. By hunters and the Alpha pack.
Peter finally imputed the number into his brand new cell phone, and raised it to his ear, all werewolves could hear it beginning to ring. Peter closed his eyes when it begun ringing, as if he had feared it would no longer be in service. Such a peculiar thing.
As it continued to ring, Derek felt his heart sink, they weren't going to get an answer.
Then just as the last ring begun – where it most assuredly would have gone to messaging services – the call picked up. "Hello?" came the voice of an English accent, a man, followed by a lot of cursing and words that were indecipherable to Isaac but Derek and Peter both know it to be Latin. "This better be good," his scowl could be heard even through the phone.
"I need your help," Peter grimaced, well, not him, but if he wanted his nephew – who he had previously wronged – to survive then help it was.
Silence was all that could be heard after his pronouncement, so much so that Peter checked to see if the call was still connected.
"Looks like he knows you well," Derek couldn't help but say, despite how tense the situation was.
"It's been six years, Peter, and you made yourself very clear then," was stated after what felt like an age.
Derek twitched, refraining from grabbing the cell phone out of Peter's hand. His mind whirling, wondering what exactly had happened between this Harry and Peter exactly. Those words…they weren't ones of strangers, if he didn't know any better he would have said they'd been involved. Was it possible? It was, Peter wasn't exactly subtle and liked to use his looks to get what he wanted.
"I know," Peter's tone was one of anguish and a profound sense of loss that Derek flinched at the sound of it.
"Text me your coordinates," was all but ordered before the call ended abruptly.
"Who is he to you?" Derek demanded of Peter, in his usual unsubtle way.
Peter did not answer, instead he found out his GPS coordinates and imputed them into a text message and sent it off.
"If he lives in England how long will it take for him to get here by plane?" Isaac asked, completely forgetting what he had been told earlier. He wanted to meet this guy, see what it was that had Peter all tied up in knots. Since there was absolutely no way he was going to drive from the UK – where they were presuming he was – to Beacon Hills, if he did it would take weeks if not months.
"Up to fourteen hours, maybe longer," Derek answered automatically, werewolves did not like using airplanes, it was downright distasteful. The small room, the recirculated air, being so high up in the air and the feeling of vulnerability that came from it. So, it was very unlikely he would use air means in getting there. Too big a risk of exposing who and what you were to them.
"That is where you'd be wrong," came the voice that had just been on the phone moments prior but was definitely not now being heard through a cell phone.
Derek and Isaac spun around to face the intruder, who did not have a single scent on him despite his… sudden appearance at the loft. He was leaning casually against the wall as if he belonged there. His sharp green eyes were observing everything, missing absolutely nothing. There was no denying the predator in the room, even wearing a human face. He had a pair of black slacks a white shirt with its arms artfully rolled up to his elbows and a black waistcoat. He didn't look a day over twenty – whatever his real age was – Derek and Peter were well aware that werewolves aged differently – and there was no way of knowing their actual age except for knowing it or asking. His hair was deftly tousled and long at the top with his underside shaved. With brown stands falling down the side of his forehead from the side to his ear but not behind.
"I can see why you need help," Harry said, tutting in annoyance, shoving himself off the side of the wall where he stood. "Especially you, what the hell did you do?" there was a curl to his lip that spoke of a great disgust that had Peter actually flinching.
"We haven't even told you what happened," Isaac pointed out perplexed by the sudden intrusion into his home. The loft was his home, more so than his own had been for years.
Harry cocked his head to the side, his eyes frequently glancing to a corner of the room where there was nothing there. "You aren't here regarding the magic that's saturated itself around you both?" looking more curious now, as he stalked around the building like he owed it. Staring deliberately at Peter and Derek seeing the saturated magic that immersed them. "Merlin's balls, what the hell happened?" he said out of the blue startling two of the three werewolves.
Peter didn't seem the slightest bit surprised, just more…resigned.
"Both?" Isaac asked, bewildered, glancing down at himself as if he would suddenly see magic because it had been mentioned.
"What did you do, Peter?" Harry commanded, his eyes flashing purple, showing that Peter hadn't been lying when he told them before. "Are you aware of the consequences of your actions? You might have healed outwardly, but you look disgusting at the very core of you." Everyone might see his normal visage, his healed one, but Harry could see the burnt out husk he'd 'died' as but that was probably a side affect to his own powers.
Peter winced as his mind was invaded by an impatient werewolf, unable to do anything other than watch the memories he knew so intimately bared for others to see. The ritual he used, how he'd gone about it and his thoughts on what Lydia Martin was. Or rather his correct conclusion. He could do nothing to defend himself, he couldn't shift properly. He could barely summon his claws for gods sake, he was defenceless.
"Oh, you idiot," Harry hissed out, "Do you have any idea what you've awoken?" the ritual he'd used, who he had used it on was at the height of idiocy. What had happened? Who had killed Peter and why? Did it tie into the 'help' Peter needed from him now? But the worst was he left himself vulnerable. "And you leave the tether of your life vulnerable? If she dies Peter…so do you." A keening woman, a bloody Banshee. He was going to have to severe the connection before Peter got himself into more trouble. Despite his agitation and anger at the werewolf, he actually cared more about Peter than nearly anyone else.
Of course, only then would Peter grow alarmed by what he heard.
Growling low in his throat, Harry's scent abruptly returning and with it the smell of death followed. He pressed his hand harshly against Peter's forehead, power saturating the room, causing Isaac and Derek to shift and growl themselves, feeling the ultimate predator, stronger and more deadly than even an Alpha. They were beginning to understand just why Peter was absolutely terrified. Even their wolves were warning them to turn away, to leave and a werewolf did not run from a fight unless grievously injured.
Peter crumbled as if his strings had been cut, screaming at the top of his lungs, claws out scraping against the concrete as he tried to get away from Harry who had just followed him. Finally, finally Peter stopped screaming and just lay there in full shift. Harry just stared down at him, his face impassive.
"You always think you're holding all the cards, smarter than everyone else and yet when it comes to it you wonder how the hell you hadn't seen it coming…wondering how the cards all came crumbling down and people saw you for what you are. I warned you what your quest for power would do you, Peter, it ends now." Harry warned him, "Or I will end it for you." Peter wasn't always the smartest person in the room, and he constantly thought he was. Except with him, he knew part of Peter had always been fascinated as much as afraid of his abilities.
Peter blinked, just staring up at Harry dazedly, what he had just felt…been put through had hurt worse than the fire that had stripped away at him. If he didn't already know his eyes were still tinged blue…he would have thought he was an Alpha. The power he could feel coursing through him, the sense of rightness, this was what he had always wanted. Swallowing thickly, not even trying to hear for the heartbeat to determine whether he meant it or not, because he knew he was serious. He had always been that way, strong, powerful, unafraid to say what he meant.
Isaac squeaked – inaudible to human ears – and hid behind Derek's back, seeking the protection of his Alpha. Derek himself, was being cautious, he had shifted but so far hadn't made any attempts to attack. After all he'd learned, it would be pretty stupid of him to do so especially if he wanted help.
"That wouldn't save you if I wanted to kill you kid," Harry said sardonically, his eyes still purple showing his only sign of his werewolf. The thirty-eight year old wizard turned werewolf found himself amused by the youngster.
Harry's eyes were then drawn to Derek, leaving Peter to gather himself, almost disinterestedly. Inhaling sharply, his penetrating gaze never once left Derek's. It was becoming apparent he could see something that nobody else could. "You haven't happened to piss off a witch lately have you?"
Derek felt anxiety crawling up his spine at being the sole focus of Harry's attention. He was utterly terrifying, yet he looked normal, nobody would look at him twice unless they were aware of the supernatural world. Aware of his oppressive presence, and it was damn repressive. Feeling like a wayward pup again, he couldn't help but glance at Peter, who had righted himself and was watching the scene tense and alert flexing his claws.
Peter nodded once, telling Derek to tell him everything without saying a word. If he didn't, there was a big chance that he would just get the information he wanted by reading his mind. Which wasn't a strange thing for them, they could do it as well, and just as painful they only needed to insert their claws while Harry had the ability to do so without. He wasn't completely tense, in fact he was feeling rather great, absently allowing his claws to grow on each finger, testing his control. Which was greater than he ever remembered, even from before the fire that had destroyed him and his family.
"No," Derek said, with an intense scowl of his own on his face.
"How about a Darach?" Harry questioned curtly, his impatience growing.
Peter's head snapped up at that, "The abductions," he stated sharply, "There have been sudden abductions we were putting down to the Alpha pack or usual disappearances."
Harry grimaced turning to face Peter a grim nod, "You won't find them, three victims, virgins, threefold death. It seems whoever enacted them, has tied Derek to them. Have you found yourself with any sudden desire for someone?" turning back to Derek, unafraid to allow Peter at his back.
That spoke volumes, nobody in their right mind would usually let Peter at their back. Derek included, although to be fair, Peter hadn't made a single attempt, and he could have done while he was down for the count after being attacked by Lydia. Yet Harry, who apparently knew his uncle well, did so without second thought. "No," he spat out as if it was something sordid and ugly.
"Not that you'd acknowledge it anyway," Harry shrugged indifferently, "Any danger to the magic if flares up, keeps you blind to all else that moves. If this wasn't why you got in touch with me…why am I here?" seeming to realize he was missing a piece of a very large puzzle. Backing away from them all, and leaned back into the position where he'd first been spotted arms crossed a pensive look on his face. The third victim might not be dead yet, thus not harnessing the magic fully. He would need to deal with that later.
Isaac remained firmly planted behind Derek, absolutely freaked out by what was going on. Nothing could have prepared him for Harry Potter. Not even the warning Peter had given made it sink in, not until he'd seen the way he was so confident, self-assured, extremely smart, and by gods his wolf was wanting to show its belly at Harry, submit at the same time he wanted to run. The only thing worse than this was being stuck in a small enclosed freezer. If he had to choose he wasn't sure which one he'd pick. And wasn't that a shock to his system.
Everyone remained silent, clearly not in any condition to speak.
That was until they were interrupted by Harry's stomach growling something fiercely.
"Derek why don't you go with Isaac and pick us all up something to eat?" Peter suggested, as always he made it sound like a suggestion but it was really an order.
"I want everyone who has been involved in this from the beginning here, do not make me go trailing after them, you nor they will like that." Harry said with deceptive mildness, purple eyes flashing in warning.
One that Derek didn't mind fulfilling all of a sudden, he was out of the property with Isaac trailing after him mere seconds later.
Leaving Peter and Harry alone in the loft. Alone.
"How have you been?" Peter asked, his tone stilted, as if he wasn't sure how to have this conversation. Skirting around the main problem until the others arrived.
"That is not what you want to ask," Harry stated, observing Peter coolly.
"Can you see them?" Peter asked, a vulnerable note in his voice.
Harry seemed to deflate a little at that pronouncement, "Sense them yes, there's a few quite adamantly trying to get through to talk." He didn't allow the ability to follow him everywhere, otherwise he'd see more ghosts of people than actual people. He knew the difference, of course, but it didn't make their irritating chatter any easier to deal with. "What happened?" he asked, his tone becoming soft and sombre.
"Hunters happened," Peter snarled, eyes supernatural blue as he thought on the fact he hadn't been able to finish his revenge. Derek had not only taken his life but stopped him putting an end to the Argent bloodline once and for all. He knew logically the girl had nothing to do with it, but they Argents in his book deserved to suffer. Losing their only daughter would have ensured they suffered to the end of days. "Trapped us at the house and left us to burn, every single one of us," the human pack members had gone mercifully quickly, never felt the lick of flames on their bodies, but the were's…they'd all suffered. He'd tried to call Harry while down in the basement, knowing he was his family's only chance but he couldn't get a signal. Even if he and Harry hadn't parted on good terms.
"How long after?" Harry asked, gritting his teeth, his scent abruptly disappearing along.
"The next day," Peter replied, he'd returned to the Hale House for the full moon and then they'd all participated unwillingly in a mass bonfire. He wouldn't have put it past Harry to return to Britain after they split ways.
The creeping sound of a car or truck approached, it was seconds away from conking out completely by the sounds of it.
"Ah, that must be Mister Stilinski," Peter said, his face becoming a cross between exasperation and admiration.
Harry inhaled sharply, learning everything he could about this newcomer. He smelt human with just a hint of 'other' in his scent to pique his curiosity. Was it all the time he spent around werewolves? Or something else entirely? Harry prowled over to Peter, who had remained sitting despite his obvious agitation. Harry leaned into Peter's personal space, inches from his neck, "Just what has this guy done to garner your admiration, Peter?" he breathed against the younger were's neck. Getting his fill of the scent he hadn't so much as forgotten even in the past six years.
"You'll see," Peter had to refrain from backing up and letting Harry scent mark him, they were tactile creatures but any tactility Derek had died with the rest of their family. He barely even touched his Beta's, other than when he was training them. "He's one of the rare good ones. Not only did he face me down twice while completely terrified, but he run his mouth off and tried to talk me out of my revenge…he also kept Derek up in a pool for three hours."
Four minutes later Harry got his first sight of Stiles Stilinski and he laughed with dark amusement. "Oh, that's just precious," he positively cooed after getting control of himself. He was still chuckling randomly as he went back to the position he seemed to prefer, it showed him the entire room – as if he needed the protection – and its occupants no matter where they were. As did the stairs which was where Peter actually preferred sitting when there was anyone in the loft.
Harry would say this though, Stiles Stilinski was something else, he kept them in his sights at all times despite sitting himself comfortably and reading when he wasn't watching them. "He does not smell like pack," Harry spoke low enough so the human couldn't hear.
"The only reason Isaac does is because he lives here," Peter replied wryly his mouth barely moving, feeling more comfortable with Harry having covered his scent back up. The cloying scent of death decay and his powers was frankly made every hair he had rise on end. "Ah, here comes my failure of a Beta," he said, the sound of Scott approaching, and there was only distaste and exasperation on Peter's face.
"Stiles what are you doing here?" Scott asked, sounding genuinely surprised as he made his way into the loft.
"Derek asked me come," Stiles shrugged, closing the book.
"He doesn't use his senses very well does he?" Harry asked, "Newly turned is he?" assuming he hadn't had a full moon yet. He had a subtle aura around him, one steeped in magic, but it was light magic, druidic magic actually, a ritual if you will since they couldn't actually cast magic like him.
"He was bitten January ninth, 2011," not a day he'd likely to forget, but a day he wished he could forget, or go back and prevent himself from doing something so idiotic. It's what had ensured his own destruction, if he hadn't been Scott he could have gotten his revenge unhindered.
Harry blinked, it was August, it was eight months, eight full moons, what the hell? A frown marred his features for only a second before it smoothed out.
"Who are you?" Scott asked, staring distrustfully at Harry, tense and alert.
Harry stared right back, watching the teens metaphorical hackles rise at the lack of answer.
"Scott, how's Allison?" Stiles asked, glancing at Harry warily, sensing that Scott would be completely annihilated by the stunning guy – what was it with werewolves being bloody gorgeous? - it was decidedly unfair.
Peter watched Harry's face become alarmed at the gooey look that came across Scott's face at the mere mention of the little Argent. He actually had to turn away and stop himself laughing – a novel experience especially as of late – when he looked as though someone had shoved a handful of shit under his nose. No doubt he was wondering just how anyone could be so distracted so easily.
"She's fine," he said, a dreamy look on his face that made even Stiles want to retch and this was his best friend…for the most part.
Harry rolled his eyes, teenagers, honestly, it was as if they lost their sense of self-preservation during their adolescence years. Scott did not smell of anyone, except from one person that was definitely not Stiles, although he could smell him on this Scott it was very faint. It was just as faint as the rest of the other scents on him, ones you pick up with passing people. Harry ignored Scott and Stiles while he waited impatiently. Idly wondering just how many people were involved in this and what 'this' actually was.
"Do we really have to go back in there?" Isaac whined, from the passenger seat of the Camaro, both Peter and Harry could hear him perfectly. Oddly enough, Scott didn't even twitch at the sound or make a gesture to indicate he was listening. Was his werewolf deflective? Had Scott been born deaf and been unable to be healed so he was a deaf werewolf? It didn't account for his lack of smell, he genuinely smelt and sounded surprised to see Stiles there.
Then the tail end of a conversation caught his immediate attention.
"Why did Derek want you here anyway? You're human," Scott asked Stiles, his tone only slightly louder – no human would have noticed – this caused Harry to growl angrily at the proclamation.
Scott was about to turn around and face Harry and ask him what his problem was when the loft door opened and a familiar smell hit his nose. Derek came out first, scowling fiercely, his back stiff and unaccommodating, keeping a sharp eye to his side. This told Harry that Derek definitely didn't trust who was in the lift with him.
"Allison! What are you doing here?" Scott's tone was anxious and suspicious in equal measures. The last time Derek and Allison had been in a room together Derek had been very dismissive of Allison and her ideas.
One sniff told Harry exactly who was in the room, and he could not mask the surprise if his life depended on it. "Argent." Any werewolf worth their salt remembered the blood scents of prominent hunter families. Which Harry had done, especially when he came to America, he'd been all over actually it's how he met Peter. "Well, if you're working with the hunters who killed your family this is definitely going to be good," watching the girl twitch as though she wished grab something, presumably the wolfsbane knife she had stashed in her boot.
Peter winced unnoticeably at the callous words while Harry rubbed his forehead, scowling angrily, Victoria Argent was quite the determined bloody woman. Trickles of information began to come to him as his barrier was lowered temporarily, before he shoved it back up. Ceasing the damn chatter from the dead, any time he went near anyone there was always someone there. "Oh, oh it's not the first time," Harry said, causing Derek to stiffen entirely, he did not even attempt to defend himself.
Silence reigned over the room, nobody wished to cut the tension that was present and that's without the full extent of Harry's powers laid bare.
"Ah, here comes the Keening woman," Harry murmured loud enough for the entire room to hear, even the human.
"Keening woman? You mean a Banshee?" Stiles gaped at Harry, failing to realize who he was talking about due to the fact he was only human and couldn't hear the approaching pair.
Harry's lips twitched, "You know your magical creatures," he murmured proudly, "Not many understand the reference, it's purely a Scottish one, Wailing woman would have been more known, if I were you Derek…I wouldn't let this one go he's got the makings of a great Emissary."
Derek as always remained blank faced, nothing showed on what he thought about that particular statement.
Lydia and Jackson were the last ones who came through the door, both of them extremely haughty as if they owned the place. Too arrogant and proud for words, teenagers again, they were probably going to be in for a shock once they leave school. Because nobody gave a shit about who you were while in school, only what you could for them. Harry observed that the male wasn't as confident as he seemed, he was wearing quite the façade as was she.
"Lydia is the Banshee?" Stiles jumped out of his seat, flailing as he pointed towards her in jabbing motions.
"Sit down, all of you," Harry commanded them, "If you don't…well…lets not find out shall we?" he added lips twitching in sadistic amusement. He turned away from them, and spoke coldly, "As for you little Huntress, that little knife of yours wont touch me, try it and you'll find it imbedded in your own back." Causing the room to cool down twenty degrees.
Allison swallowed thickly, how had he known what she was going to do? She had barely moved a muscle!
"Allison and I are leaving!" Scott retorted, standing in front of her, trying to steer her out.
"I am not leaving," Allison stated, she had to know everything she could to keep her and her friends safe. Yes, this guy terrified her, especially so considering how good looking he was, he could probably get anyone to do anything for him. She had to find out everything about him, about the Alpha pack that she'd just found out about…and all the mysteries surrounding Beacon Hills if she is to take her mothers place as the Matriarch of the Argent line.
She was the first to sit down after Stiles, it was as though seeing the two humans doing as they were told, had the others sitting albeit reluctantly. Isaac needing something to do began to hand out the food, thankfully they had bought more than enough for everyone. Harry as the 'guest' was allowed to chose first, which he did with a quiet 'thanks kid' to Isaac who marginally relaxed in his presence.
Peter remained in the seat that was close to the staircase so he could see everyone.
Meanwhile the scowl on Harry's face got fiercer and fiercer as he was annoyed relentlessly by Laura Hale and her endless apologies.
This was why he avoided people. Except his marks.
Then a blonde haired young girl made her appearance...Erica appeared before Harry Potter...she was gone.
There we go! The next chapter for you to all enjoy I hope you enjoy it! So the pairing hasn't been decided yet what would you like to see? Derek/Harry or Peter/Harry or something different for this one? As you've no doubt deduced Harry is the Master Of Death In this and I've changed up his appearance ;) I hope you enjoy it :D it was fun writing it! as for the Alpha pack will they disperse after the Duke (can never spell his name right without spell check Ducalion?) is killed by Harry or will they all meet the same fate? this was never intended to be a long story to be honest...it was more of a three shot I think I intended to do but its beginning to walk all over me already :P I want so much to do things but I can't use all my ideas here otherwise it would make the others boring :P just certain things I'd like to see happen. Would you like to see Erica survive? Will Harry be able to save her? He is the Master of Death after all! Read and Review Please!