Xerosis

The Bad Man, the Sad Man

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The Bad Man, The Sad Man
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Harry whistled to himself as he made his way back to the Dursley's house the last day of June. His summer had been great so far: He'd been getting all his mail, Sirius was due to be released the last week of July, and Harry had just sucked down the souls of four mundanes that would have seen him dead if they'd had the chance. He'd taken the souls of something like twenty mundanes already this summer and intended to make a trip to Knockturn tomorrow to hunt some vampires.

The Dursleys themselves had been pretty well behaved. Vernon hadn't yet had his expected blow-up, but Harry hadn't been around much while he was home, so there hadn't been many chances. (Harry half expected it to happen over dinner again, really, since that was the only time he and Vernon were in the same room.)

Harry was just outside the blood wards when he heard a whispered "Stupefy" and ducked into the shadow under a nearby tree while the spell splashed harmlessly into a bin. His eyes darted around the area, trying to spot his attacker, but whoever they were, they were staying out of sight. "Bugger," Harry muttered, turning his eyes to the space inside the blood wards. If this person had waited outside the wards to catch him, they probably couldn't get inside.

An overhanging roof threw enough of a shadow for Harry to use it so he shadowed over to it, grimacing as he fell a foot to the ground. He fell into a crouch as soon as he was fully on the ground and again scanned the area past the wards. No one.

This is seriously going to put a damper on my plans tomorrow. If this is Voldemort using one of his people to get around his oath, I'm going to rip him a new one. Harry huffed a bit, then readied himself to jump back into the shadow thrown against the siding above him. He always kept a shadow under his bed in case of emergencies, and if this wasn't an emergency, he didn't know what was.

A quick jump later and Harry was lying uncomfortably under his bed, one hand crushed against the wall. "Sometimes," he grumbled as he pulled himself out, "that's more trouble than it's worth." Once back on his feet, he shuffled through his trunk and pulled out one of the few books he'd yet to read, then fell across his bed, book held to his chest. Perhaps I'll shadow walk to Knockturn tomorrow. The place is always full of dark corners, and there's that one spot in the vampire pub that's always in shadow. It'll be troublesome, but I can go in my Cloak and that should throw them off. He'd taken great care over the years to keep the pub staff from finding out anything about him, lest they find some way to block him from their establishment. The vampires never survived long enough to cause him any trouble, since once their souls were eaten their physical body crumbled to dust, but the pub owners were werewolves, so he left them alone.

For all that Harry sucked souls of vampires and mundanes pretty much indiscriminately, he tended to avoid any other magical being – wizards, witches, werewolves, etc – unless they'd ticked him off in some way. The few times he'd been in the pub, the werewolves had treated him fairly, despite his apparent age, so he had no grievance with them. (Anyway, the longer they stayed alive, the longer the pub would be open.)

If nothing else, Harry could keep his eyes open for wizards hanging out around the neighbourhood. And, if he was lucky, he might catch a Death Eater in Knockturn to question. An evil little smile curled Harry's lips at the thought. I'd quite enjoy a Death Eater snack. Yum.

-0-Harry didn't manage to catch the stalker for almost another week and, honestly, by that point he was wholly sick of the whole thing. The bastard was very well hidden, and without magic Harry was having quite the time of spotting him from only the readily accessible shadows.

When Harry finally spotted the hunched form, he shadowed to behind him, grabbed the back of his cloak and shoved him bodily against the tree he'd been hiding under. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't rip out your fucking heart," he hissed, the air chilling with his power in his anger.