Stahl Nacht
by CrimsonNoble

A/N: Dead, buried, necromancied. Or something.
Disclaimer: I make no claims toward ownership of Harry Potter. I do,
however, claim ownership of Ange. 'Cause they're mine.

WARNING: This is rated R for a reason. Should you choose to ignore
said reason, read at your own risk. Masochism, sadism, sensuality,
graphic violence, and harsh language. Possible male/male
relationships, and definite female/female. Quite probable threesome
relationship between any of the above.
Ye hast been warned. Should
any of the above be objectionable to you, there is a back button on
your browser, a convienient hyperlink back to the main Harry Potter
section of the site, and a simple right-click will reveal an option
for "back", if your computer works like mine. Can't help mac users

Spoilers: OotP, GoF, PoA, CoS, SS.

Chapter Twenty-One:

"I collect women's ears in a bucket."

That was one of those statements that made Severus stop, stare, and
wonder what the hell was going on.

"That's nice," Lie said. He was obviously not paying attention,
focusing on the weapon in his hands. He might have thought it antique,
had he not just constructed it himself. Severus might have thought it
his-modern, had he not just suffered through the creation of it.

A magnetic ten-inch barrel was attached to a what might be termed a
pistol grip, excepting the cord that ran from the item to his arm.
Severus saw no obvious loading mechanism, but if his time trapped in
this hell had taught him anything, it was that these freaks did not
need anything to be obvious. Things had an absurd tendency to just...
happen while his mind was iced over in pain.

"The hell do you need that for?"

Lie looked up at the man, if he could be termed such. For some unknown
reason, the name flashed across the vision he shared with Severus,
along with a red line that tagged it to the man. Acti. Such an absurd

It fit.

The world tilted, and Lie sounded puzzled when he spoke. "I want it...
Why else?"

"You're just going to... carry it?" Acti was tall. This was undeniable,
he was taller sitting down than Lie was standing up. His skin was a
peculiar purple, and his eyes a glowing yellow. And he had six irises
for his seven pupils in each eye. The sight was... disconcerting.

"No," Lie said. "Are you being dense on purpose?"

Lie pressed the magnetic barrel to the flesh of his right forearm, if
it could still be called flesh. Severus wasn't sure. Then there was
pain. Some sort of crackling sound ensued, and Lie's ecstatic laughter
wrapped around Severus-a comforting, agonzing, warm blanket.

Then it was gone. The pain and the weapon. So-they were gone.

With a sizzle-snap, Lie's wrist locked back. His hand went up, Severus
winced as something pulled within the arm, and a polycarbon bottle

Sizzle-snap, Severus laughed. It all goes back.

Acti's oversized left arm reached out to where the remains of the
bottle rested and picked one up. He turned his head and the six outer
pupils rotated, the perimeter they formed contracting as he focused.
"It's a solid projectile?"

"Yep," Lie responded proudly.

"All due respect, it's been tried before."

"Yeah..." Lie drawled, "But to call me normal would be a misnomer. Of

Inkfish! Severus cheered.


"Ja?" Lie responded.

"You're an idiot."

"To call me an Ange would not be a misnomer. To call you suicidal
would not be either."


Monkey nuts, Severus swore.

Raye's Loft, London. 0422, February 2.
Raye considered the wand on the table. She did not like that wand. For
one, it was made of holly, and anything with a name with 'hol' in it
she innately distrusted. Holidays included. For another, it had the
tail feather of a pheonix in it. Pheonix were weaklings, they bothered
dying before rebirth.

She went on cracking her knuckles.

It would do to break the wand, but then she couldn't use it later.
One thing she had been taught-keep the doors open or burn them down.
Plus there was the off-chance that the wand would be repaired. It was
possible, for a good smith, but unlikely as Potter was... 'dead'.

And on the subject of dead people... the guest in her room was
screaming again. Again! How dare she? It was only a finger!

Another lesson-do not leave choices unmade. Delaying on making
choices was not making a choice, it was stupidity. If there was one
thing Raye was not, it would be compassionate. However, somewhere in
the top twenty five things she was not list there was stupid.

"No regrets," she said. Then she lifted the wand to her lips and
slowly slid it down her throat.

Her eyes remained shut for several seconds. It was a long time by her
standards. They opened, and nothing had changed.
Raye's Loft, London. 0423, February 2.

"Stop that," Lie ordered. His (technically, at the moment, her) hand
touched her temple in frustration. Or possibly an imitation of it.
Sometimes it was hard to tell, Severus being inside the body but not
privy to it's thoughts.

"Why?" The younger of the two whined.

"There is a certain style in being an Ange. You are one of the sixteen
greatest badasses in the universe. Most of that title comes from the
brutal efficiency of our work. Or our art with it. Or our reasons."
Severus remembered this speech. It was not, as might be expected, from
Cais. No, it was from Euri, shortly before his timely demise at Lie's
hands. Less than what Severus called a year ago.

Not that days were twenty-four hours for Lie and his kin.

"So... what?"

It was at that phrase, after some measure of time, Severus realized:
It was not English being spoken. He was a spy. He was not supposed
to miss things. This was... awkward.

"So why the hell are you doing what I tell you to?"

"Because..." the girl paused for thought, "You're my teacher?"

Wasn't this one of those things they screend for? Severus wondered,
echoing Lie's thoughts. The world moved, and the girl was abruptly
much closer to Lie's face.

A moment later, she had no lungs. "Wrong answer."

Then, with no intervening time, a hand was in Lie's mouth, and there
was something very, very hot in it. Lie being Lie, she bit down.

Hard. Her student being her student, it didn't really work well.

Then the ball of plasma Stil was shoving down Lie's throat exploded.

Nothing happened.

"Nice one," Lie acknowledged, after removing the hand from her throat.
Her neon orange hair sifted in front of her face.

"Not so bad yeself," Stil replied. Her silver-blue hair floated in a
non-existent breeze.

Then a living wall of silver engulfed her, and Severus' screams drove
his world white.

Raye's Loft, London. 0902, February 2.


Raye looked up from her work, eyes focusing slowly on the intruder.
Her hands kept working. She manipulated the metal with brute force,
as she always did. Not because it was easier (it wasn't), or because
she liked it better (she did), but rather because she didn't feel like
tempering. At the moment.

"What's she doing?"


"Her," and the girl pointed.

Raye opened another eye. "Oh. Griping about her finger."

"Griping?" Luna asked. She stared at the woman chained to the corner.
She was indeed missing a finger. The ring finger of her left hand.
Actually, she looked pained. There were many subtle hints about this,
but first and foremost was the fact that her eyes did not focus, and
she was drooling.


"Oh. Who is she?"

Raye paused. Her hands even stopped twisting the metal. She thought.
Then she reached out, poked her finger at the stub of a knuckle, and
lapped at her finger.

Huh, she thought. Like Stil.

"Narcissa Malfoy," she said.


Raye cocked her head to a scream. It said many things, but very few
were important.

Wonder if she knows?

"What did you need?" Raye resumed twisting the metal to suit her

After a moment's thought, Luna said, "Prof Dumbledore wishes to see


Luna waited. "Coming?"

Raye considered what she had so far molded. A thoughtful noise, and,
"Ja." She tossed the metal lump at the woman in the corner and heard a
dull crunch. Toe, probably.
Raye's Loft, London. 0922, February 2.

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. 1303, February 2.
"I hate floo powder."

Luna stared over Raye's shoulder. "We didn't come by floo powder."

"No," Raye agreed, "we didn't."

She tastes like Stil too, she thought.

She liked blood. Not because she was a psychopath, not because she
liked the color more than any other, and not because it was something
she'd seen for years and years and...

Was there a time she hadn't seen it?

She liked it because it told so much about a person. Their ancestry,
if one knew how to read it. Their disease, if they had one. Where they
lived, thicker the higher in altitude, and flavored from food. Many

"Who are you?"

Moody. Looking at Luna.

Raye wondered just how deep he could see. If he could see through

She shivered somewhere inside.

That'd just be -fun-.

"Stifle, Moody."

Magical eye fixed suspiciously-pervertedly-on Luna, Alastor turned
to face Raye. "Where's Tonks?"

Raye paused in thought. She blinked sharply, then swept the room with
her gaze. "Ministry," she said. "In a holding cell."

"She's in a holding cell?"

"Ja." Raye continued staring at the wall. "She's escorting a pris'ner."

Moody thought it peculiar that she was, in fact, looking toward the
Ministry. Luna didn't know, and didn't care.

"Oh. What are you doing?"

Raye made an obscene gesture that he didn't understand. Her fingers
twirled through the Auror finger-speech. Moody did not twitch an
eyebrow at her insults directed toward his parentage, fashion choice,
career choice, and sexual habits. "Albus-Dumbledore called," she said.

"Get on with it then."

Sizzle-snap-bam, and Moody lost the lobe of his remaining ear.

"Aye-aye, capitain."

The man poked a gnarled finger at his ear. It came away red.

"Damn," he swore.

Things... degenerated.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. 1308, February 2.

ReginaLucifer-I don't like romance. I don't like love. I like people
fucking other people over in a thousand different ways. Kill d'love!

Relle-I have a fangirl! Yay! . Collar? Kinky. Glad ye didst like
Frenzied Feeding. I can, however, see Malfoy shouting, "Gomen my asking!"
Which is really an on-crack image. OO. Luna's mind grinds slowly,
but it grinds fine.

Deathyscythe Custom-Harry's all over. Harry is Raye. There's really no
difference. He just hates being beatified (made out to be a saint).


Crrot-Raye dedicates lots of death, and strong opponents to Loki. And she
does it after the fact (as why she is not seen doing such in the castle-
razing scene). Snape will relive everything, but there's a basic problem
because of which he can't become an Ange. Namely, he hasn't been destroyed.

Crrot 6-New screen name? Ah, yes, it was a brainstorm of a vacation.
However, some of this was for my original stories which are not published
online. And I drew a lot.