Short Stories and Oneshots

Scram

Author: Zathara001

Platform: Fanfiction.net

Type: Harry Potter x NCIS

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AU – On the night of the Third Task, Harry can only be grateful that his godfather had a paranoid streak.

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June 24, 2003

Inveterate prankster.

A bit barmy.

Delightfully mad.

Harry Potter knew that all of these epithets – and some even worse – had been applied to his godfather, Sirius Black, at some point or another during the man's life.

Lurking beneath them, never spoken and sometimes only barely acknowledged, was that Sirius Black was also a cunning, intelligent wizard.

It was that last quality that made Harry Potter completely, totally, and in all other ways grateful that Sirius Black was his godfather, and he'd never felt that gratitude more than he did at this moment, when he was tied to a tombstone, blood running down his arm from where Peter Pettigrew had taken blood for a ritual Harry didn't recognize, but that resulted in the resurrection of the self-styled Lord Voldemort – who was currently waxing nostalgic about the cemetery and the village nearby, after having poked his wand into Pettigrew's dark mark.

Harry only partly paid attention to the evil git's ramblings, as thinking about his godfather was far more pleasant, and he could always review the memories later in a pensieve. If he could convince the headmaster to let him use it, of course.

The biggest reason Harry was grateful for Sirius was the Christmas present he'd sent. Not the penknife, though that was quite handy, but rather the tiny parcel that came with it, wrapped in Slytherin green with a simple tag reading, Mister Padfoot solemnly presents Mister Prongslet a gift.

The package wouldn't open, no matter what Harry tried. It had taken longer than he would ever admit for him to catch the not-so-subtle clue and tap the package while whispering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The package then opened to reveal a simple gold-toned wristband, a note, and a pair of books on blood magic – which, according to the note, not many people would be able to read as they were written in Parseltongue – that Harry had read in dribs and drabs in between preparing for the Yule Ball and the remaining tasks of the Triwizard Tournament. He hadn't finished them yet, but they had at least given him a little understanding of what was going on the moment Pettigrew had sliced his arm.

"...But look, Harry!" The use of his name pulled Harry back into the present moment as Voldemort continued, "My true family returns!"

Harry watched with interest as cloaked and masked Death Eaters popped into the clearing, more and more of them until Harry lost count – and then Voldemort started talking again.

Dark Git loves the sound of his own voice. Clearly never read the Evil Overlord List. Have to thank Hermione for showing that to me.

Harry looked up when Voldemort quite literally unmasked some of his followers, even calling some of them by name. Those names Harry recognized as being Hogwarts year mates with him were no surprise at all. Those names Harry didn't recognize – well, someone would know who they were.

Voldemort turned to him and raised his wand. Dammit – waited too long.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Voldemort was already casting.

"Crucio!"

It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting along his scar; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end...to black out...to die...