Harry By Proxy

Chapter 5: Don't Trust Strangers

Chapter 5: Don't Trust Strangers

ALERT!

This chapter contains some sensitive topics. Please read the following AN:

ALERT!

AN: This chapter is a chapter to help transition Harry into the Creepypasta lifestyle. However the sensitive topics of murder and kidnapping will be the focal points of this chapter… well, more the "murder" aspect. As a trigger warning, there will be kidnapping and implications of child slavery/abduction. However, I thought that the way I mapped out was a good way to go about introducing this transition.

I suppose you expect murders and such (after all, it is Creepypasta), but I want you to know that I think viewer discretion is advised at a certain point.

Remember; don't trust strangers, don't eat candy/food lying around, stay in well-lit, public areas, don't throw rocks at people's heads, and don't eat the yellow snow.

And finally, "Creativity, not reality". This is a work of fiction and should not be replicated under any circumstances.

This message brought to you by:

-Crow

P.S. I don't own anything. Least of all the Pastas and Harry Potter.

P.P.S. This is especially a toeing-the-line Teen rated chapter because of some references to recreational drugs (no usage or explanations about usage, though), alcohol consumption by adults, somewhat graphic violence/gore, and copious amounts of swearing.

Children's laughter rang out in the park. Kids as young as 3 were playing in the sandbox or on the swings and kids as old as 14 were playing fort with the play set. Parents watched dutifully on the park benches; bandages, sanitizer, juice packs, and anti-pedophile-pepper-spray in hand.

No one noticed as the shy 7-year-old with glasses and shaggy, black hair cautiously approached from the treeline. His piercing, green eyes kept darting around fearfully and unsure of what to do.

He eventually made it to the more secluded swing set and began moving back and forth, not going more than a few inches in either direction. Unfortunately, his timid behavior and seclusion made him prime targets for a gang of 11-year-olds.

"Hey, weirdo!"

The black-haired boy looked up and found himself face-to-face with about 5 older boys leering down at him. A shiver ran through him as the image of the freckle-faced leader was replaced with a blonde-headed pig-boy hybrid.

"Wat'cha doing, freak? Too much of a pussy to actually have friends?" His gang chortled with somewhat forced laughter with their leader's jibe. "So, where're your parents, dork?"

The boy mumbled something fearfully, but the leader picked up a sixth sense from the kid that the parents were either not here or wouldn't give a rat's ass either way. He gave a head nod to his gang who circled the kid still on the swing.

"Well, I guess nobody'll notice a few scrapes, now would they, freak?" He grinned, stalking closer.

His ominous approach was cut short by a small rock thrown straight at his head. He glared in the direction it came from and saw three kids standing on a rock. The leader was a girl around 8 or 9 with overall jeans and a slingshot in her hand. The other boys to her side had a baseball bat and the other had a couple of rocks he was tossing experimentally in the air to catch.

"Hey, Toejam! Pick on someone your own size!" She shouted, prepping another rock. She took aim and managed to nail one of the leader's goons in the forehead. He ran away, clutching his slightly bleeding forehead and wailing for his mother.