Catalyst

Chapter 2: To See Through New Eyes

"You know what I'm going to say."

"And you know why I have to do this."

Two men sat sat around a small table. One was older, with gray hair, and a tired expression. The other man, younger, held a swaddled infant in his arms.

"I do Faris. I really do. But a Muggle orphanage? Are you certain that's the best option?", Ollivander said.

"People are dying here. Either from You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters, from getting caught in the crossfire, or just from stupid mistakes," said Faris. "Right now, the magical world is too dangerous. If Thenabar stays here, he will die."

"Faris, think what you're doing. You're abandoning your only child, to live in a world without magic!" Ollivander exclaimed.

"This way, he'll live long enough for me to explain it to him! I know what I'm doing Garrick! I've thought this through! And I'd rather my son be alive without a wand, then be buried in a grave with one he'll never get to use!" Faris shouted back.

Ollivander stood there, stunned. Then, finally, he shook his head and looked down. "I see you've made up your mind. If this is honestly what you think is best, then far be it from this old man to stand in your way. But we both know this won't last. In a few years, Thanador will be getting a letter. When that day arrives, I hope you can explain your choice. And I hope you can explain it to Vivira as well," With that, Ollivander turned and walked out of the room.

Faris sighed. This was not the first argument he'd had with others about his decision, and he doubted it would be the last. Still, he had to do it. Not just because of the stated reasons, although those still applied. Because he couldn't bare for much longer to look into those yellow, slightly incandescent, eyes in his son's skull for much longer. Not those eyes that judged him every second of every day, and found him pathetic.

(Transition)

Gretchen enjoyed her job at the orphanage. Caring for all the sweet little children, seeing them grow up, or go away with a loving family. Even if she couldn't have children of her own, it was delightful to care for all the little ones in the stead of those she couldn't bear. Every child brought something to the table, and this newest bundle of joy, Thenabar was his name, was no different. He was such a peaceful child, never crying out unless he really needed something, and never making a mess. Now if only he could stop trying to bite everything that came near him, he would be an absolute darling.

(Transition)

DEATH EATER ATTACK!

By Faylour T. Lanch

You read this right folks. You-Know-Who's Death Eaters have struck again, this time in the town of Puddlemere. This great tragedy occurred at approximately 1am last night. Death Eaters arrived at the edge of town, and quickly moved in, killing many of the townsfolk, both magic and muggle. Some wizards attempted to hold off the Death Eaters, but casualties were high. By the time Aurors arrived on the scene, many braze witches and wizards had lost their lives. The names of the fallen are as follows: Libatius Sikes, Reffen Pettit, Mercia Cooper, Faris Jaren, Connie Prismall, Maggie Rowle... May Merlin help them and their families. The Daily Prophet highly recommends strengthening your wards in the future, so as to avoid this happening to you or your loved ones.

(Transition)

2 years. It took two full years, during which Abathur was unable to walk, talk, or even have a coherent thought. It took two years for him to understand exactly what his current situation was. He was trapped in the body of a Terran infant, with bare scraps of his former essence remaining. The infant part may pass with time, but the Terran part wouldn't change, not without significant work that Abathur was unable to perform.

It was a disaster that defied description. A near complete loss of essence, removal from the swarm, and it was a miracle he had anything at all. Whatever that anomaly was, it was hardly a better alternative than death. The only silver lining was that the Terrans had apparently not recognized the threat in their midst, and were providing sustenance and care to him, although for some reason, they only referred to him as "Thenabar". How they got that name in relation to Abathur, he had no idea. Regardless, the caretakers of this place, this "orphanage", provided biomass. Almost an excessive amount, until Abathur realized how much of what he took in, was actually used. Little. Very little. Terran inefficiency at it's finest.

And it was an odd place. Abathur had not made a study of Terrans much beyond their biology, their society was completely alien to him. As far as he could tell, this structure, painted in the classic sterile grey Terrans seemed so fond of, served as a repository for Terran spawn that lacked dedicated guardians, or whose guardians were deceased and no replacement was found. Why that would be an issue for a race that had populations in the billions, Abathur had no idea.

Still, it technically could have been worse. He could be dead. While Abathur was still alive, there was the potential for reconstruction. There was life, there was essence, so there was hope. Now if only he could figure out how to walk for more than a few feet at a time, he could start work.

(Transition)

Elsewhere in Britain, a mere babe defeated one of the most dangerous Dark Lords to haunt Wizarding Britain. That babe survived seemingly unharmed, except for a small, jagged scar on his forehead.\

(Transition)

Miscellaneous scraps of ash worm, a couple fragments of the Roach's acid, most of the strands regarding creep (thank the Overmind), some components from the Overlord, and other random sequences that were beyond description. And, of course the overwhelming infestation of Terran matter, and the random Terran flora and fauna that were nearby Abathur, and had already been consumed. Not to mention the chemical tools that allowed him to read and edit the sequences.

This was, in essence, the entirety of Abathur's brood, if it could be called that. Some of the strands could be built upon, some could be reconstructed from how they interacted with what he already had, some of the simpler parts of essence could be entirely fabricated, but the simple fact was, Abathur didn't have enough essence to build a single creature, let alone a hive cluster.

Not to mention that the Terrans may not have been as unaware of his activities as he had originally thought. Several of the caretakers of the orphanage had nearly successfully attempted to stop him from taking bacterial and viral samples from the soil by eating it, claiming it was "not food". It was a disturbing trend, that would severely limit him until his body matured more fully, to be capable of greater speeds. In other news, it appeared Terran digestive systems do not handle dirt well. An area to improve upon.

Overall, it was a dire situation. With such a lack of swarm-based essence, Abathur would be forced to use and assimilate the essence of the creatures on this planet. Given that Terrans seemed to be able to survive quite comfortably, he did not have high hopes for any interesting strains. Still, that was what experimentation was for. Stressors reveal flaws, flaws reveal potential, and potential would be what was needed to build his brood. The Swarm would prevail. Abathur would prevail.

Infested Terrans: Terrans infested by the zerg hyper evolutionary virus, or otherwise changed into a zerg. Most are shambling husks, little more than short lived, occasionally exploding, cannon fodder, but some, when given special attention by a being that knows how to properly change a genome, can become truly terrifying. Examples include the Queen of Blades, and Alexei Stukov. Identifying features include carapace, oddly placed tendrils, claws, and, occasionally, glowing yellow eyes.

If you like this story I suggest going to the original source here
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12515480/1/Catalyst

And if you want more like this I suggest going to the original author of this story Strandshaper's home page here
https://www.fanfiction.net/u/9294091/