Harry Potter and the Berserker

Chapter 4

A/N Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.

From strength in numbers and a masterful counterattack formation, the Hawks were able to pick off any last stragglers of the bandits. From the back of the wagon, Harry saw Guts cut down at least three more men as he met up with Griffith who gave the former a reassuring nod. Griffith might be fine, but Harry was experiencing quite a different feeling. His hands shook, still holding the crossbow and remained pointed at where the one bandit had once been. Barely even a minute ago, he had taken his first life.

The eyes of the man he had just killed were wide open, but stared lifelessly up towards the vast blue sky. A pool of thick red blood was seeping out of his neck and starting to stain the green grass below. It was a sickening sight and it took Harry every ounce of his willpower not to throw up at the sight, which despite its gruesome nature, seemed impossible to turn away from. But it was the knowledge that he was the one to cause such a sight that truly caused a whirlwind of emotion to flood his head.

Killing was wrong. He and every other child had had that lesson embedded into their head at an early age. The cartoons that Dudley would watch would feature villains who tried to blow up the world, and the James Bond films that Uncle Vernon enjoyed always featured the bad guy as a murderer. And here he was, a boy of ten who just shot a man with a bolt. Did that make him as evil as a villain?

But he had done it to save somebody.

He had saved Griffith, hadn't he? Someone was alive because he acted.

But Griffith was also a stranger. And Harry saw Griffith cut down some of the men attacking as well. He was a killer too.

But, they were the ones under attack. Didn't that mean they had a right to defend themselves? And Griffith might be a stranger, but he was also nice to Harry, giving a choice of what he wanted to do when he easily couldn't have. He had killed to save.

How though?

How was it that he, a boy who never even held a crossbow before today, was able to hit a man on his first shot? The only thing Rickert had shown him had been to load the weapon and pass it to the soldiers. Could he have picked it up from watching them? He must've, it wasn't anything too complicated; just point and shoot. So why didn't he believe that? Maybe it had to do with Griffith. Harry had shot just before Griffith's would be killer would have; in some strange way, it was like an unseen force had guided Harry's aim just right so Griffith wouldn't die.

"...some transcendental entity that governs all..." Harry vaguely recalled the vast void like voice from when the Skull Knight had taken him. Could it be that-?

A hand was placed on his shoulder, an act which partially snapped Harry out of his thoughtful trance. Looking back, Harry saw it belonged to a young blonde haired youth with some freckles decorating his nose and cheeks. A bandolier of throwing knives was strapped across his chest. Rickert seemed to recognize him right away.

"Judeau!" The fellow blonde greeted. The youth now known as Judeau nodded to the boy.

"Glad to see you okay, Rickert." His voice was smooth and kind. "And you too. You're Harry, right?'

Harry in turn just nodded back. Now that he was broken from his trance Harry realized how dry his throat really was. Judeau seemed to pick up on it and handed him a pouch of water. Harry eagerly accepted and took a long uninterrupted sip.

"Th-thank you," Harry said, his voice sounding more than a little hoarse.

"Don't mention it," Judeau told him. "I saw what happened. It's not easy, especially for someone as young as you." Judeau then patted him on the shoulder in a reassuring manner. "But you have our thanks because of it."