Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Stray
Sorry it took so long to update. I keep stopping myself, trying to decide where to go with this. I mean, I know where it will end up, vaguely, but how the story'll get there.... Well who knows, right? Anyways, if you guys have any ideas to help the story move along, I'd appreciate your sharing them with me. It'd probably lead to much much faster updates, ya know. Anyhoo, here's chapter...4.
Disclaimer: I do not nor will I ever own Harry Potter. It is the property of J.K.Rowling and Warner Bros., I am mearly using the plot for my own and others' entertainment.
X
5 years later (their nine)
Petunia scowled down at the smallest member of the house. "What the fuck is that look for, Freak?" she hissed, her dark brown eyes narrowing into slits.
Freak, or Stray as his teacher called him at school, fidgeted slightly under his aunt's gaze. "N-nothing, Aunt Petunia. I don't h-have a look." he whimpered in his soft voice, thin fingers twisting at his sleeves.
If possible, Petunia's eyes narrowed even more, all though on the inside she could feel a smug sense of satisfaction. The feisty boy that had once infuriated her was long gone, and in his place was a servant, a slave. The perfect nephew, almost. "Are you contradicting me, Freak?"
His eyes widened a fraction, though he hid his fear as best he could. "N-no Ma'am. I would never contradict you, Ma'am. You only do what's best for a freak like me."
"Exactly." she sneered, tapping her left hand atop the page of the large book she was currently reading. "And what is best for you right now, Freak, is for you and Boy to continue on with what you both were doing before I am forced to tell Vernon that you misbehaved. You wouldn't want me to do that, now would you?"
Boy, who had been none-too-subtly watching his twin from the corner of his eye, quickly turned back to dusting coffee table, while Freak returned to expertly painting Petunia's nails, resisting the urge to pass out. Freak could never stand strong smells, and nail polish was the worst. Once he actually had passed out, in essence spilling the polish on the carpeted floor, waking ours later covered in bruises in The Cupboard. He knew better to pull such a foolish stunt ever again.
Petunia watched the unusually small boy for a moment, before returning to her book. She had read it hundreds of times over, and practically had it memorized, but knew that it was better to be safe then sorry. It was a Freak book, one she'd been mailed (by owl no less) by that horrid Dumbledore man, on Freak and Boy's fifth birthday. It spoke all of Incubus, their history, their creation, and best of all, how to raise one.
A slight smirk touched her lips. Not that she was following the directions. In fact, she was doing everything exactly opposite. After all, she had no intentions of raising one to be healthy and strong. Who would do such a thing? Foolish and abnormal as they were, Petunia doubted even a.... wizard would care for a raping spirit, be they child or not.
Petunia had actually had no intention of even reading the book, but something had drawn her to it, and things were all the better for it. As it turned out, Incubi and Succubi, their female counterparts, held the exact same genes and 'magical signature' (shudder), and were in essence, the same animal. They could only be born when one mated with a human, and were generally distinguished with their genders. Males were Incubus, and females Succubi. Simple enough.
But it turned out that that was hardly the last word in the matter. You see, if a male was brought up in a more feminine way (I.e. more like a girl) then after their 'Purging' (a disgusting sounding time when the mortal blood was forced from the body) they would stand as a male Succubus.
Succubus were decidedly less wild than an incubus, though more powerful. They held more of their human mind, if not the blood, inside, so that they actually changed little in their personality. While an Incubus would go after their own Mother if they were weak enough, a Succubus would not.
Needless to say Petunia had been intrigued and immediately brought the book to Vernon. It was a lucky draw that she had even seen this page, as she had merely flipped to a random section, so the husband and wife had sent the children from the house and sat down together to read the entire book.
Petunia glanced down as Stray finished her nails. The proof of their efforts were easy to see. While Incubi and Succubi (I'm gonna call them Demons in plural from now on) were children, the Inc.'s required lots of sunlight and exercise, while Suc.'s proffered moonlight while they played. Obviously 'Play' was a luxury the Durselys wouldn't give, but now Stray would only work in the garden at night, and Harry during the day. Inc.'s needed twice the red meat as a normal child, while Suc.'s could only eat a small amount, but were strongly attracted to white meat. Petunia, when she gave them food from the leftovers of the meals they prepared, made sure that only Harry received the red, and Stray the white.
There were dozens of other little things that she did also, and others that she felt would help with the Femininity that the book spoke of. She gave Harry Dudley's used clothes, and Stray received clothing from when she herself was a child. Though it sickened her to allow her own clothes to be soiled by his freakishness, she bared with the pain and did her best to mold the creature to her whim.
And it had worked. She had actually manipulated a Dark Creature into becoming something completely different. Vernon had tried to take the credit, but she didn't care. She had done it. It was oh so obvious to even the untrained eye that Stray Evans would grow up to be a girlish as a boy could be.
His eyes, which were narrow when he was younger, were now slanted instead, giving them an almost Asian look. His cheekbones were high and his hair, which they hadn't cut once in his life, was thick and wavy. His pale skin only added to the look, making him look like a tiny china doll. He was very thin do to malnutrition, but when he tossed his head to free his face from his hair, one could tell that were he to eat regularly he would never grow muscular or tall.
"Aunt Petunia?" said a soft voice.
Petunia snapped from her musings, looking down at pair of green-eyed children in font of her. "Yes?' she snapped, making her disdain for speaking to them obvious.
Harry pushed his glasses up on his nose, a nervous gesture he had developed years ago, taking hold of Stray's elbow, as if to anchor him. "Well... um.... .I-I mean..."
"Spit it out!" she snapped, digging her dry nails briefly into his shoulder, watching him flinch with satisfaction.
Stray took a miniscule step foreword, an achievement in and of itself. Stray was, after all, much more afraid of Petunia than Harry was. "What Har-I mean Boy- is trying to say is.. Well, Ma'am, we got pulled out of class today, by the school nurse."
Petunia's eyes widened, then narrowed. "What happened?" she hissed through gritted teeth. "Why the FUCK did she want to talk to you?"
Stray fidgeted on the spot, looking anywhere but at Petunia. "Well... um.... You know how the school makes us eat, even though we don't bring money or even go through the line? Even though we told them that it makes us sick?"
Petunia glared, making it obvious she wanted him to continue.
"Well, uh, um, I-I have to throw up every day, and Harry sometimes too. We-we-we can't help that we have to, like you said the food is too much for us Ma'am, we can't hold it in Ma'am. Well, um, these boys in the fifth grade and heard sometimes, 'cuz they're in there you know.... And, well, told the nurse..."
"And then?" hissed Petunia, despising his soft, babbling voice more and more by the second.
"Well" butted in Harry, noticing Petunia's annoyance. "Missus Hart talked to other kids who all see us run into the bathroom or whatever a lot, and she took it into her head that, we're.. um.. What was the word?.... Bulimic I think. She thinks we throw up on purpose to lose weight. She said she was gonna call you tonight to talk to you about it, but since she hadn't called yet we thought you should know...."
Harry trailed off and the two of them moved closer together, scared to death of the consequences of something that wasn't their fault. Their stomachs weren't used to rich foods, sweet foods, or much food at all. The lunch they were served at school was simply impossible for them to eat, and they both knew it.
Petunia hissed angrily, standing abruptly and giving them each a sharp slap across the face. "YOU BLITHERING INGRATES!" she shrieked. "HOW DARE YOU BRINGTROUBLE DOWN UPON YOUR FAMILY'S HEADS!?!? What the HELL is wrong with you?! I'll teach you, you little monsters!
VERNON!!"
X
Two hours later found Harry and Stray scrunched up inside their cupboard, trying weakly to nurse each other's wounds. It was dark, dirty, and smelled of blood, but they managed as well as two nine year olds could.
"Harry?" whispered Stray softly, breaking the silence around them.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For making things worse for you."
Harry looked at his twin with soft eyes, the normal acid colored orbs dark with concern. "You don't make things harder on me, Stray." he said. And it was true. When they were younger, Stray had protected him, but as they got older, it was Stray that needed protection. The Durselys had focused all of their hate on Stray, and all but forgotten about Harry. He wasn't sure what they hated him for, or what they were doing treating him the way they did, but it wasn't good.
A shudder passed through him as he remembered the day, a few months after their fifth birthday. It was the scariest day of his short life, and would forever be burned into his mind. He didn't know the whole story, and Stray didn't seem to remember it at all, but he knew enough to know something was wrong.
Vernon had come to their cupboard in the middle of the night, yanking Stray out by the hair. Harry had been locked in, but watched from the cracks as his tin was brought to the living room and thrown inside a circle of odd-looking candles. Petunia started chanting from a book , the same book that she always kept on her now, and Vernon had taken out a knife and made a nick on Stray's cheek, going downward like a tear-track. When it started to bleed it mingled with Stray's tears of fright and pain, making him cry red.
Suddenly Stray screamed and a horrible ripping sound filled the room. He bent over foreword and his back seemed to stretch upwards, until the flimsy material of his shirt ripped and bloody wings tore through and into the air. Beneath the blood were pure-white feathers with black tips, though it was difficult to tell. Stray's screams lowered into muffled sobs as the wings flapped experimentally, sending blood all over the carpet.
At that moment Harry could only think of one thing. His brother was an angel. A good and pure angel. It only made sense after all. His brother protected him all the time, took all the hard hits for him, gave him food he snuck from the kitchens, though rarely sneaking any for himself. But if he was an angel, why did the Durselys hate him? They always spoke of God and how they were being punished for their parents sins. That they deserved it. But why would God punish one of his angels?
Vernon didn't seem at all awed, though. In fact, he got angry. He grabbed a hold of Stray's new wings, and began to roughly saw them off. Stray screamed again and again, louder than before as they were torn from him. Harry watched through tear filled eyes as they ripped away an angel's wings, throwing them into the fire like trash, smiling as if they had single-handedly purged the world of evil.
Harry's eyes clouded over as he looked at Stray's back. There, directly on his shoulder blades, were long thick scars, proof of the Durselys sins. Stray had never been the same. When he was deep in thought he would stare into the fireplace longingly, and feared the his so-called family to the point that he shook when they looked at him. His growth slowed, his limbs weakened. Harry could tell he was suffering, whether he knew why or not.
Harry wasn't overly religious, and doubted if he ever would be, but they had stripped an angel of his wings. He knew that, despite what they said, the Durselys were destined for Hell.
X
Don't ask me. Seriously. I wrote this as more of a 'why stray will be the way he...will be' chapter. I looked it over when I finished, and couldn't believe how weird I sounded. Just ignore this chapter, I guess. Not the words, everything is the way It's supposed to be, but It was all written funny. I refuse to right this chapter again, though. Oh well.
Memo to self: STOP GETTING HIT OVER THE HEAD!! NOT good for creativity! Bad!
Please read and review, okay?
Disclaimer: I do not nor will I ever own Harry Potter. It is the property of J.K.Rowling and Warner Bros., I am mearly using the plot for my own and others' entertainment.
X
5 years later (their nine)
Petunia scowled down at the smallest member of the house. "What the fuck is that look for, Freak?" she hissed, her dark brown eyes narrowing into slits.
Freak, or Stray as his teacher called him at school, fidgeted slightly under his aunt's gaze. "N-nothing, Aunt Petunia. I don't h-have a look." he whimpered in his soft voice, thin fingers twisting at his sleeves.
If possible, Petunia's eyes narrowed even more, all though on the inside she could feel a smug sense of satisfaction. The feisty boy that had once infuriated her was long gone, and in his place was a servant, a slave. The perfect nephew, almost. "Are you contradicting me, Freak?"
His eyes widened a fraction, though he hid his fear as best he could. "N-no Ma'am. I would never contradict you, Ma'am. You only do what's best for a freak like me."
"Exactly." she sneered, tapping her left hand atop the page of the large book she was currently reading. "And what is best for you right now, Freak, is for you and Boy to continue on with what you both were doing before I am forced to tell Vernon that you misbehaved. You wouldn't want me to do that, now would you?"
Boy, who had been none-too-subtly watching his twin from the corner of his eye, quickly turned back to dusting coffee table, while Freak returned to expertly painting Petunia's nails, resisting the urge to pass out. Freak could never stand strong smells, and nail polish was the worst. Once he actually had passed out, in essence spilling the polish on the carpeted floor, waking ours later covered in bruises in The Cupboard. He knew better to pull such a foolish stunt ever again.
Petunia watched the unusually small boy for a moment, before returning to her book. She had read it hundreds of times over, and practically had it memorized, but knew that it was better to be safe then sorry. It was a Freak book, one she'd been mailed (by owl no less) by that horrid Dumbledore man, on Freak and Boy's fifth birthday. It spoke all of Incubus, their history, their creation, and best of all, how to raise one.
A slight smirk touched her lips. Not that she was following the directions. In fact, she was doing everything exactly opposite. After all, she had no intentions of raising one to be healthy and strong. Who would do such a thing? Foolish and abnormal as they were, Petunia doubted even a.... wizard would care for a raping spirit, be they child or not.
Petunia had actually had no intention of even reading the book, but something had drawn her to it, and things were all the better for it. As it turned out, Incubi and Succubi, their female counterparts, held the exact same genes and 'magical signature' (shudder), and were in essence, the same animal. They could only be born when one mated with a human, and were generally distinguished with their genders. Males were Incubus, and females Succubi. Simple enough.
But it turned out that that was hardly the last word in the matter. You see, if a male was brought up in a more feminine way (I.e. more like a girl) then after their 'Purging' (a disgusting sounding time when the mortal blood was forced from the body) they would stand as a male Succubus.
Succubus were decidedly less wild than an incubus, though more powerful. They held more of their human mind, if not the blood, inside, so that they actually changed little in their personality. While an Incubus would go after their own Mother if they were weak enough, a Succubus would not.
Needless to say Petunia had been intrigued and immediately brought the book to Vernon. It was a lucky draw that she had even seen this page, as she had merely flipped to a random section, so the husband and wife had sent the children from the house and sat down together to read the entire book.
Petunia glanced down as Stray finished her nails. The proof of their efforts were easy to see. While Incubi and Succubi (I'm gonna call them Demons in plural from now on) were children, the Inc.'s required lots of sunlight and exercise, while Suc.'s proffered moonlight while they played. Obviously 'Play' was a luxury the Durselys wouldn't give, but now Stray would only work in the garden at night, and Harry during the day. Inc.'s needed twice the red meat as a normal child, while Suc.'s could only eat a small amount, but were strongly attracted to white meat. Petunia, when she gave them food from the leftovers of the meals they prepared, made sure that only Harry received the red, and Stray the white.
There were dozens of other little things that she did also, and others that she felt would help with the Femininity that the book spoke of. She gave Harry Dudley's used clothes, and Stray received clothing from when she herself was a child. Though it sickened her to allow her own clothes to be soiled by his freakishness, she bared with the pain and did her best to mold the creature to her whim.
And it had worked. She had actually manipulated a Dark Creature into becoming something completely different. Vernon had tried to take the credit, but she didn't care. She had done it. It was oh so obvious to even the untrained eye that Stray Evans would grow up to be a girlish as a boy could be.
His eyes, which were narrow when he was younger, were now slanted instead, giving them an almost Asian look. His cheekbones were high and his hair, which they hadn't cut once in his life, was thick and wavy. His pale skin only added to the look, making him look like a tiny china doll. He was very thin do to malnutrition, but when he tossed his head to free his face from his hair, one could tell that were he to eat regularly he would never grow muscular or tall.
"Aunt Petunia?" said a soft voice.
Petunia snapped from her musings, looking down at pair of green-eyed children in font of her. "Yes?' she snapped, making her disdain for speaking to them obvious.
Harry pushed his glasses up on his nose, a nervous gesture he had developed years ago, taking hold of Stray's elbow, as if to anchor him. "Well... um.... .I-I mean..."
"Spit it out!" she snapped, digging her dry nails briefly into his shoulder, watching him flinch with satisfaction.
Stray took a miniscule step foreword, an achievement in and of itself. Stray was, after all, much more afraid of Petunia than Harry was. "What Har-I mean Boy- is trying to say is.. Well, Ma'am, we got pulled out of class today, by the school nurse."
Petunia's eyes widened, then narrowed. "What happened?" she hissed through gritted teeth. "Why the FUCK did she want to talk to you?"
Stray fidgeted on the spot, looking anywhere but at Petunia. "Well... um.... You know how the school makes us eat, even though we don't bring money or even go through the line? Even though we told them that it makes us sick?"
Petunia glared, making it obvious she wanted him to continue.
"Well, uh, um, I-I have to throw up every day, and Harry sometimes too. We-we-we can't help that we have to, like you said the food is too much for us Ma'am, we can't hold it in Ma'am. Well, um, these boys in the fifth grade and heard sometimes, 'cuz they're in there you know.... And, well, told the nurse..."
"And then?" hissed Petunia, despising his soft, babbling voice more and more by the second.
"Well" butted in Harry, noticing Petunia's annoyance. "Missus Hart talked to other kids who all see us run into the bathroom or whatever a lot, and she took it into her head that, we're.. um.. What was the word?.... Bulimic I think. She thinks we throw up on purpose to lose weight. She said she was gonna call you tonight to talk to you about it, but since she hadn't called yet we thought you should know...."
Harry trailed off and the two of them moved closer together, scared to death of the consequences of something that wasn't their fault. Their stomachs weren't used to rich foods, sweet foods, or much food at all. The lunch they were served at school was simply impossible for them to eat, and they both knew it.
Petunia hissed angrily, standing abruptly and giving them each a sharp slap across the face. "YOU BLITHERING INGRATES!" she shrieked. "HOW DARE YOU BRINGTROUBLE DOWN UPON YOUR FAMILY'S HEADS!?!? What the HELL is wrong with you?! I'll teach you, you little monsters!
VERNON!!"
X
Two hours later found Harry and Stray scrunched up inside their cupboard, trying weakly to nurse each other's wounds. It was dark, dirty, and smelled of blood, but they managed as well as two nine year olds could.
"Harry?" whispered Stray softly, breaking the silence around them.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For making things worse for you."
Harry looked at his twin with soft eyes, the normal acid colored orbs dark with concern. "You don't make things harder on me, Stray." he said. And it was true. When they were younger, Stray had protected him, but as they got older, it was Stray that needed protection. The Durselys had focused all of their hate on Stray, and all but forgotten about Harry. He wasn't sure what they hated him for, or what they were doing treating him the way they did, but it wasn't good.
A shudder passed through him as he remembered the day, a few months after their fifth birthday. It was the scariest day of his short life, and would forever be burned into his mind. He didn't know the whole story, and Stray didn't seem to remember it at all, but he knew enough to know something was wrong.
Vernon had come to their cupboard in the middle of the night, yanking Stray out by the hair. Harry had been locked in, but watched from the cracks as his tin was brought to the living room and thrown inside a circle of odd-looking candles. Petunia started chanting from a book , the same book that she always kept on her now, and Vernon had taken out a knife and made a nick on Stray's cheek, going downward like a tear-track. When it started to bleed it mingled with Stray's tears of fright and pain, making him cry red.
Suddenly Stray screamed and a horrible ripping sound filled the room. He bent over foreword and his back seemed to stretch upwards, until the flimsy material of his shirt ripped and bloody wings tore through and into the air. Beneath the blood were pure-white feathers with black tips, though it was difficult to tell. Stray's screams lowered into muffled sobs as the wings flapped experimentally, sending blood all over the carpet.
At that moment Harry could only think of one thing. His brother was an angel. A good and pure angel. It only made sense after all. His brother protected him all the time, took all the hard hits for him, gave him food he snuck from the kitchens, though rarely sneaking any for himself. But if he was an angel, why did the Durselys hate him? They always spoke of God and how they were being punished for their parents sins. That they deserved it. But why would God punish one of his angels?
Vernon didn't seem at all awed, though. In fact, he got angry. He grabbed a hold of Stray's new wings, and began to roughly saw them off. Stray screamed again and again, louder than before as they were torn from him. Harry watched through tear filled eyes as they ripped away an angel's wings, throwing them into the fire like trash, smiling as if they had single-handedly purged the world of evil.
Harry's eyes clouded over as he looked at Stray's back. There, directly on his shoulder blades, were long thick scars, proof of the Durselys sins. Stray had never been the same. When he was deep in thought he would stare into the fireplace longingly, and feared the his so-called family to the point that he shook when they looked at him. His growth slowed, his limbs weakened. Harry could tell he was suffering, whether he knew why or not.
Harry wasn't overly religious, and doubted if he ever would be, but they had stripped an angel of his wings. He knew that, despite what they said, the Durselys were destined for Hell.
X
Don't ask me. Seriously. I wrote this as more of a 'why stray will be the way he...will be' chapter. I looked it over when I finished, and couldn't believe how weird I sounded. Just ignore this chapter, I guess. Not the words, everything is the way It's supposed to be, but It was all written funny. I refuse to right this chapter again, though. Oh well.
Memo to self: STOP GETTING HIT OVER THE HEAD!! NOT good for creativity! Bad!
Please read and review, okay?
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