1,265Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J. K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
BOOK 3 - THE INCUBUS AND NECROMANCER
CHAPTER 125 - RETRIBUTION PART 3
What's the first thing you do when you're about to transform into a malevolent demon and tear people left, right and centre? Especially when said transformation would only be heightened by the effect of a twisted Family Magic you have been feeding your blood and magic since the last couple of months?
Yep. That's right. Carefully unbutton your shirt and pants, put them in a pouch along with other wearables, and stick it nice and safe on the largest tree you could find.
That accomplished, I wore the cilice belt, the artefact baring its fangs and sinking into my skin. But unlike before, it would not drain me dry. Well, it would, albeit in an entirely different way. Confident that I had finally gotten things at hand, I quickly chanted my mantra.
"I'm the child of the Coyote. I bind and I eat, I curse and I kill,
On this accursed night, I call upon those waiting in Ni'Hodithil."
The Blacks were descendants of the Coyote, the accursed shapeshifters that were initially the messengers of the Navajo Holy Ones before they descended to the Greater Realms, leaving them in charge. Drunk in their power, they sunk into the darker aspects of their craft, becoming capable sorcerers with extraordinary transformation abilities. The yenaldooshi. They created an entire legion to conquer this realm, before the Holy Ones punished them for their deeds, and banished them to Ni'Hodithil, also known as the First Dark World.
And it was through them that their descendants gained the Black Family Magic. Walburga had claimed that the yenaldooshi were still waiting in the darkness, their collective twisted energies arising in the form of the borderline sapient Black Family Magic, awaiting a vessel to manifest them upon the human realm once more.
The Black Family Charter had stringent rules, and it would not allow me to get past Draco Malfoy, the next heir in line after Sirius Black.
The yenaldooshi needed my help. And I wanted theirs. But to do that, I'd have to take it on a whole new level.
Sometimes your whole life boils down to one insane move.
This was it for me.
"To the First of the Dark, I offer every soul sundered through my claws,"
As soon as I finished uttering those words, an alien sensation gripped me. The whole world turned from colour to grayscale. My senses felt different. Perception felt heightened in certain places and dulled to the point of non-existence in others. And with it came a whole new approach to being…me.
A feral cunning rose to the forefront of my mind, a shrewd, bestial wit that was primaeval and at the same time, co-existing with my rationality. The juxtaposition was more than mildly disconcerting.
Thump!
My heart began beating furiously, its sounds heralding what was to come.
"On this night, I become your wrath,"
A primal hunger took over.
No questions about right or wrong. No quibbles. No compunctions. No liabilities. No alternative motivations. No doubts. The very feeling serene in its throb. The lingering pain of starvation burning away everything inconsequential. Making it all seem simple.
It was all I could think of. Meanwhile —
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Activating Malevolent Release
I didn't even have to do it myself. The Black Family Magic twisted its vessel into a terrifying figure of darkness. It was only natural that Malevolent Release would resonate powerfully with it.
"Bless me, feed me, own me, drench me.
With your howls, and your curses, enlighten me of the path."
I fell down to my knees. My back arched, and two ashen wings, made entirely out of sharp, hard bone, erupted out of my back, looming above my head. My body was lengthening, as were my arms and legs. Bulky muscles formed, hardened to form plates above raw tissue, with rapidly growing dark fur covering it from the world. My fingers extended, forming jagged, sharp, silvery claws. A thick, bony tail erupted out of my rear. The last thing to transform was my head, the nose extending to a small snout, the nostrils into slits, and my jaws protruding outward into a canine form.
Thump!
Thump!
Thump! Thump! Thump!
It was a good thing I had conjured a privacy ward around me, or else the roar that escaped my throat would've deafened anyone by sheer volume.
I looked around at the darkness of the forest around me, smelt the fear amongst the living in the air, and knew that tonight was mine to hunt.
It felt right. I was a killer, and had no other purpose. I could protect in a way, I supposed, by killing everything that stood in the way of that which I shielded. But why would I do such a thing?
Killing indiscriminately was easier. Killing was better. Killing was joyful.
I hungered to kill.
The scent of prey flared against my nostrils, and I roared. Slamming down one foot down on the ground, raising a mini gale just through that, I launched toward the closest beast, a werewolf that was about to attack the pretty girl that felt familiar but whose name I couldn't quite remember. I somersaulted over a thick branch and came down upon the beast, hacking his head off with a single strike.
The head lolled off and dropped down to the floor with a thud. Useless trash! What good were these animals if they were so easily killed?
And then the decapitated body began to thrash around, as blood erupted out of its dead form in great spouts and soared at me. It stabbed me right where the cilice was, vanishing into my fur. Blood was potent. Blood was powerful. It made for some of the best catalysts in alchemy and rituals. And right now, blood from these beasts was flowing into the cilice, and through it, into me, twisting me, making me more.
Every single being in the vicinity stared at me in shock. Thrusting my chest forward, I let out a loud howl.
I turned around and looked at the girl — prey — behind me. There was recognition in those eyes, but it was really the beauty that struck me like a knife. I would have her, take her from behind as I locked my fist in her hair and forced myself on her.
The other human right next to him — injured, defiant, his body language screamed that he would protect her. Even at the cost of his own life. Good, that made him a comrade. Perhaps? One I could rely on in the hunt? So long as he stayed out of my way, he could have a share in the prey. And if he fought me, I'd kill him.
The others, they were competition. Hyenas wanting part of the lion's share. They sought the same prey I did — the girl.
They would be slain first.
"You had the right general idea," I growled. "But you didn't think all the way through."
I unsheathed my claws. They glowed a sinister silver in the dark.
"None of you gets out alive tonight."
One man answered.
"CRUCIO!"
Too slow. In less than a second, I had already crossed the distance between us, and in another fraction of the same interval, my gnarled limbs came down and squashed another werewolf's head to the ground.
Poor thing wanted to ream into me from the side. Now its face was smashed into thick paste.
The rest of its body dropped to the floor, like a stringless marionette.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" yelled a man with long, golden hair that shone in the darkness. I jumped, narrowly avoiding the sickly green light as it hit the ground. Fast, I thought. I'd have to be careful of that one. I didn't remember what it did, but my instincts screamed that getting hit by it would be a bad, bad idea.
That moment of distraction cost me, as a volley of streaking lights struck me from all directions as agony consumed me.
My chest exploded. Ribs shattered. Lungs punctured. Blood erupted out of my mouth and eyes. Muscles tore. Left arm shattered, leaving a stump attached to the shoulder. One of them tore a significant piece away from my left calf too. Between screaming my lungs out in absolute agony, I grabbed the dead body next to me, and thrust my clawed right arm into its chest, tearing its heart out.
Snap. Gulp.
Every single creature in the vicinity paused at that.
Residual magical reserves added to Host
Regenerating…
Ribs reformed. Muscles sewed back. Organs reknit. Bones pushed back into place. The left calf, though, remained unattended.
That was surprising. I didn't know I could do that. I ignored the magical screen flashing before my eyes, and concentrated on the power whirling through me like a hurricane.
"MORE!" I bellowed. "GIVE ME MOREEE!"
I put a single foot forward. The new prey instantly backstepped, raising silvery shields and casting more lights. I let out a single whoop of joy, batting away all lingering rationality like a tidal wave and rushed towards them. The others made funny little gasps and yells as they tried to stop me. Some slipped and bruised. They were terrified.
Terrified opponents made mistakes. Errors in judgement. Anxiety prevailing over instinct.
And rightly so.
Of all the monsters in this forest, the most dangerous one was after them.
Fifty feet away, I landed in a loud crash, claws striking claws as I grabbed a third werewolf by its shoulders, pulled over like a sack of potatoes and smashed head-first into the ground, before a kick shattered its spine. One torsioned yank later, it fell on the ground, unmoving. I yanked out one of its legs and —
"CONFRINGO MAXIMA!"
— hurled it in the face of the onspeeding streak of violet light.
The leg exploded into smithereens.
That light had hurt a lot earlier. Best if I avoided getting hit by that one again.
With one thrust, I pulled out its dead heart and —
Residual magical reserves added to Host
Regenerating…
The injuries on my left calf healed completely.
The next second, I was right behind the caster, grabbing his legs and bodily raising him, I spun twice, and smashed him — face and all — into a tree trunk.
Part of his broken skull hit me in the nose. The tissue lining within dug into my eyes. I tore its heart out and —
"DEPRIMO!"
An invisible missile smashed into the heart, taking a few of my fingers with it. Another spell hammered me from the back, and sent me tumbling. Damn it. They had destroyed my food.
"It's eating their hearts," said the golden-haired man. "That's what helps it heal."
Growling, I pulled myself up and jumped up the closest tree.
"FULMINATA!" "INCENDIO!" cried several of them all at once. With all the blood spurting out of the dead bodies in spiralling harpoons set on entering me like homing missiles, it was way easy for my opponents to locate me. The tree erupted into flames and I jumped down to the ground, and dashed right, then left, then right and on and on in random directions, as buckshots of offensive spellfire rained down from behind.
Then something odd happened.
Absorption Complete
Evocation Complete
Assimilation denied because of transformation
WHAT —
"FERVOR SANGUINEM!"
I slid to the right, and grabbed a masked man into the path of the streaking ray of purple light, and his body began to flail. Grabbing him by the legs, Hearing another familiar yell, I spun around and held him before me, letting it take the hit for that nasty green spell, and the body went rigid for a moment, before dropping lifeless.
Instantly, a shower of spellfire rained down on me.
"BOMBARDA!"
"OSSIO FRAGMEN!"
"CONFRINGO!"
And on and on. Within the span of the next five seconds, I escaped thirteen constant buckshots of curses, rushing towards the golden-haired man casting the green curses. Four werewolves attacked me from all sides, two of which I on the ground head-first, with enough concussive force as to smash their heads inside out, leaving brain-matter and blood in its wake. One of the werewolves bit me in the hand, and I clawed the beast's head off with my sharp, silvery claws. The last one was simply pushed to one side by my sheer momentum, as I dashed at the man —
—And bounced back as I collided with a silvery barrier.
I charged at the shield again, hammering it with my fists, not even considering the idea of going around it. I would smash it like everything else. The impact of the unstoppable force and the unmovable object was deafening, as the resulting shockwaves raised gales on either side.
The golden-haired man was down on his knees.
Just a little more and —
A torrent of flame came at me from one of the remaining opponents, and I sidestepped. I spun and leapt through the trees, and yanked the man by his head.
Snap. Gulp.
I tried to grab the body to eat its heart out but the tree turned alive, and came for me. Chopping through a branch in one go, I rushed back to the golden-haired man, aiming a strike from above and —
"OSSIO DISSFRINGO!"
—I lost my balance and fell to the ground, groaning as I regarded my shattered left appendage. Regeneration activated again. Bones expanded. Blood oozed out. Muscles reknit. Again, as good as new. But then something worse happened.
Assimilation denied by transformation
Altering assimilation conditions…
Malevolent Release Deactivating…
WHAT? NO—
The sudden notification cut through the bestial mind and reaching the very pit of my consciousness, warning me of what was about to happen. I lurched backward in growing horror, feeling my mind and body diminishing with every passing moment. Blindly, I attacked the men in black cloaks with claws and fangs, tearing through them, jumping, leaping, biting, clawing in a frenzy as I rained a constant shower of attacks upon them — killing at least three werewolves and two men, before throwing my arm ahead to claw the golden-haired man's face off —
—Only for the claws on my left hand to regress into normal fingers.
The golden-haired man looked perplexed if only for a moment, before snapping his wand, and casting lights — blasting hexes, I remembered — at me. I leapt and evaded through the constant stream of curses, my speed decreasing with every passing second. Already my right leg was shrinking, and I used my tail to grab a branch and somersault through the trees to reach for a second strike, but two massive branches rose against me, and grabbed me by the waist. I smashed my thick right fist against it, shattering through half of the wood, before two more branches grabbed me by the neck and chest, trapping my hands. Several more came from the ground itself, chaining my legs, spinning me upside down and holding me spreadagled.
The golden-haired man — Lucius Malfoy — approached me, wand twirling in his hand, surprise in his eyes, as I began morphing back to human form. The furs receded, the thick plates of muscle thinned before merging into my skin, my snout regressing back to human-like proportions. Three seconds later, I lay there, hanging upside down and spreadeagled.
Naked and unable to move.
Unable to break out.
And at the complete mercy of Lucius Malfoy.
"Harry Potter," breathed Lucius Malfoy, his eyes narrowed to slits. "What an astounding surprise! None of the reports said anything about you contracting lycanthropy. Guess the mudblood wasn't the only one to get bitten that night. The old fool must have been hiding the news all this time. The Boy-Who-Lived, a twisted half-breed that just massacred so many of my people!"
"You know me," I told him. "It's hard not to be an overachiever."
Snikt!
A thin gash ran across my right cheek, before a thin line of crimson formed on it. Blood began to ooze out of it.
He spotted the cilice and slowly touched it, and hissed, taking a backstep. It had drawn blood at the point of contact.
Malfoy blood.
I stared at Lucius's injured finger. The more I looked at it, the more I became certain that it held value, though I really didn't know why. It was just blood, like any of the others I had absorbed and…
And…
"Ah. That's right. How stupid," I asked, chuckling dryly in amusement despite the pain.
Yes. I could use this. Options that I hadn't seen before were now available. I could work with this. Narcissa wouldn't really like what I had planned, but it wasn't like she could do anything.
Besides, it wasn't like I had a better idea.
"A cilice belt," noted Lucius. "Blood magic. What sort of insidious ritual were you planning, Potter? What would dear Dumbledore say, seeing the Gryffindor Golden Boy turn to the Dark like this? Still… This does present a rather welcome opportunity. I remember promising you the same sticky end as your parents, didn't I? Thank you for giving me the chance to keep my word."
"Gosh! You're going to make me blush at this rate."
"CRUCIO!"
Despite myself, I threw my head back and screamed. There wasn't a part of my body that didn't hurt, as the feeling of knives, nice and larger and heated to burning temperatures tore into my body. My face burned, my eyes burned, my hands and legs feeling like they had just been through a tenderiser. My ribs and lungs screamed with each breath, and my arms felt like absolute lead as the tendrils gripped me tighter.
"The Dark Lord has plans for you, so you must be kept alive. However, alive is rather a loosely defined term, isn't it?"
"Oh? what plans?"
Lucius smirked. "I take it that this is the portion of the conversation where I reveal all my plans to you?"
"What have you got to lose?"
"And apparently you expect me to tell you any vulnerabilities I might have as well. I am wounded by the lack of respect this implies."
"Chicken," I ground out. "And no, tradition implies you've got to tell me about your plans, Lucius."
"... Tradition?"
"Oh yes," I managed with a tight grin. "Whenever the hero… gets captured by the bad guy… the bad guy always tells him about how nobody would be able to stop him…. So that the good guy can find a way out and kill him."
Lucius stared at me, and I waited for whatever pain he would choose to afflict. Knowing him, it would be a cruciatus. Instead, Lucius let out a bark of amusement, and traced my scar with his wand. Now that I realised it, it was oozing blood. An effect of the horcrux talking to me? Or perhaps the perk had unknowingly interacted with the horcrux? There were too many variables to be sure of anything.
"It's enough for you to know that two things will happen. Wizarding Britain is already crippled, and your friends, the mudbloods and the blood traitors will soon join the fate of those that perished in the stadium. And you will stay alive, until the Dark Lord rises again and kills you himself."
"Yeah, not a fan of that one."
Lucius chuckled, and the wooden chains entwined around my body tighter.
It was getting increasingly difficult to breathe with every passing second. Any more and I'd choke to death.
"Oh? And why is that?"
"Because for one, I'm Harry Potter, and luck is always on my side," I told him with a defiant grin. "And for another, you forgot about the veela."
Lucius barely had a moment to register my words, before a torrent of hot crimson came raining down from the heavens., making him roll over and raise a shield. There, flying above, was a feathered feminine with large wings and twin spheres of superheated flame on either hand. She let out an undulating screech and threw a spiralling harpoon of flame at Lucius with one hand, forcing him to drop his shield and hide behind the trees. With another hand, she threw well-aimed fireballs at the tendrils, incinerating them completely as I dropped unceremoniously to the ground.
Lucius levelled his wand and a dozen thick roots came at me like spears. My shield could hold against them, but even I had limits. I couldn't just defend myself from all directions, especially with my waning magical output.
But I wasn't hanging spreadeagled any more. I was on the ground, and thus, had options.
"NEBULUS!" I hissed.
Between the sudden use of Parseltongue, and the near-impenetrable mist manifesting out of nowhere, I got enough of a distraction to seek shelter behind a thick tree trunk. My magic reserves were quite low, but at least I hadn't damaged my core like that time at Bones Manor. No Meta-Luck to unfuck things this time around.
I still had my rings, which were excellent conduits. But a battle of attrition would only work against me. I had to admit, Fleur's veela transformation couldn't have come at a better time.
Summoning my pouch, I began to get started.
Fleur, I noted, was not terribly skilled at combat, and was prone to breaking down or misbehaving when things didn't turn out her way. That meant she tended not to be a significant threat, when one thing got wrong, other things would go wrong, leaving her trapped beneath a mountain of mistakes. The issue was getting her to make a mistake in the first place, something Lucius Malfoy was finding rather difficult to do, especially with her being twenty feet in the air and raining fire on him.
Like now.
"BURN!" She half-screamed, half-screeched in French, and sent a dozen orbs of bright blue flames dashing down at the ground, the orbs shifting their paths midway as if homing on Lucius. The sheer amount of control over the fire element, not to mention the ability to connect with every single one of those orbs and operate them independent of the other suggested a mastery over flame, or incredible degree of parallel processing.
And right when things were looking bright, a fiery whip lashed out of nowhere and grabbed Fleur by her leg and slammed her down on the ground. All I could do was arrest her downward fall or else the blow would have fractured her skull.
"Shouldn't be seen! Shouldn't be seen! I should not be seen," came the maniacal mutter of Barty Crouch Junior. "I must not be seen! Father made it very clear! I. Must. Not. Be. Seen! AVADA KEDAVRA!"
I flicked my wand. A large twig rose from the ground, and intercepted the killing curse.
Lucius looked at the sudden intruder in surprise, but only for a moment. Then again, he wouldn't be Lucius Malfoy by noticing other people. Instead, he focussed on me, levelling his wand, and cast a stunner.
"Seriously?" I snapped, batting the curse away with a flick of my wand. A stunner? Despite my transformation earlier, he really didn't think me worth the time of day, did he? Well, let's see what he thinks about what follows. Gathering magic in my legs, I dodged the next three spells as I leapt sidewards at inhuman speeds. A facet of being an Incubus was that magic could be used to amplify physical activities, and right now, post the cruciatus, I needed every advantage I could get.
In less than two seconds, I was standing right next to Fleur.
"Take your father and walk away. I'll hold them back."
"If it's going to be you saving me, I'd rather 'ave my chances with zem."
Ouch! What's with the sudden burn? Really, it's impossible to please this girl. Then I glanced at Barty Crouch Jr. and remembered that the bastard was only here because I let that happen.
"Fine," I told her. "Then how about you wait exacting retribution against whatever slight I've committed, and work together to get out of this alive?"
"Fine," Fleur snarled, getting up, and raising her wand. "You'll get a sneak preview of what I'm going to do when zat finally happens. But Malfoi tried to kill my Papa. 'E's mine. You can 'ave ze madman."
There was no hint of negotiation in her tone.
I grinned. "Deal."
And just like that, the final war of the night began.
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