Categories > Books > Harry Potter

.hacker: Magician Smoke

by LaKill 6 reviews

Starts 4th year. Harry Potter wasn't what you would call normal. He was a hacker. But since the magical world was so far behind the muggles. While there, he didn't hack computers. He hacked magic. ...

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: R - Genres: Fantasy,Humor,Sci-fi - Characters: Fleur,Fred,George,Harry,Luna,Snape - Warnings: [!] [!!] [V] [X] [?] - Published: 2017-04-24 - 4648 words

5Ambiance
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter, as this is fanfiction that seems unlikely from the start, but enjoy this. I've had this running through my head for so long I'm afraid I couldn't help myself. I hope to get to updating a few other stories' soon too, so thanks for reading and your support.

.hacker: Magician Smoke

Chapter I

Preface


Bellatrix Lestrange found herself in an odd predicament; for her at least. It had honestly never happened to her before – while her master was around at least. She had recently been busted out of jail – well a year or so ago or there about. Being in hiding made time slip away from her.

Everything was going – well if you discounted certain events, or people; it was going great. Though, something was up. Her master was acting strangely. The Dark Lord was being uncharacteristically cautious. And it wasn’t because of the old fool, Albus Dumbledore.

However, it had happened. Bella had gotten foolish. She had gotten complacent in her superiority. She couldn’t tell how long it had been, exactly since she escaped jail, and she hadn’t cared enough to ask any of the pathetic Death Eaters in her masters’ service how long it had been.

When you had no time schedule to keep to - you sort of lost track of time, and then you would feel silly asking someone what day it was.

Bella had been running an errand for her master, not that she got that far before 'this'.

She was skulking down Knockturn as she needed to collect something important for her master when she – well everything went blank and she just woke up, naked, completely, not even a piece of jewellery. Her wrists were bound with sealed chains tying her painfully to the wall of the room, keeping her off her feet.

Her ankles too were bound in chains, and though the underside of the chains were layered with padded leather they were not comfortable, and they were tight and likely to leave marks.

Bella didn't know how long she had been held captive, but she had to have been hanging taught to the wall for a few days.

Bella’s toes barely brushed the cool smooth white floor. Her body ached, and she didn’t know how much more of the strain her body could take.

Yet Bella had seen nobody. Her capturers wouldn't pay her a visit no matter how much she demanded and mouthed off, trying to get a response.

Bella had stopped expecting a response from her capturers now. Not until they were ready; not because of her demands. They worked by their timeframe. She was obviously dealing with people who couldn’t care less about taunts. They had endless patients. They didn't need anything from her of immediate urgently.

The room Bella was in was bland and bright. White lights were coming from everything, even from the floor and around the mirrored wall that was directly opposite her.

Bella could see herself reflected somewhat now that her eyes had had so long to slowly adjusted to the constant light of the matte white dungeon.

That was what Bella thought of her cell. It was something like she would expect a dungeon to be like. In feel, at least. And if not for the white and cleanliness; it could have made a nice addition to her home, or maybe even Hogwarts.

Bella was famished and tired, but the light gave her very little sleep; if anything, the slight nodding off and waking up was making her sleepier.

Bella had already figured out that the light itself wasn’t keeping her awake, and not just because of the brightness. She was so tired now, she could sleep while looking into the sun without any issue if you overlooked losing her sight.

But Bella realised now. There was some sort of spell in the light. It was niggling at her senses, scaring her out of any doze – like coming back from a terrifying nightmare as the memory faded but left you with that feeling of fear.

And Bella felt like she was always being watched. If she wasn't so pissed off, she could have congratulated the creators, maybe even marvelling at the ingenuity of her torture.

Bella’s Prison Wardens were doing something she was too impatient to try. Slow, sensory and sleep depraving torture. She didn't think any of her fellow Death Eaters had this kind of ingenuity or patients; it was a shame her Wardens were to be the enemy. She was secretly, very highly impressed with their gull.

Bella’s Wardens were trying to break her spirit. They wanted to break her will. It seemed that no information about the person who captured you could be worse than knowing who it was. The worry. The thought of who could have taken such an interest in you.

Then the Wardens had taken her clothes. They stripped Bella of all her dignity. Not that she had much left after the horrors left over from before and during her time in Azkaban Prison.

Though, even this dungeon could not hope to compare to that humiliating, dark, cold place where they tortured inmates into insanity. Just being around those dementors was enough to want to scream and cry. It wouldn’t be a loss to the world to have the spectres destroyed; if that were ever possible.

However, this dungeon was vastly different. It was large and airy, bright, and not a small cage like she had back then in Azkaban, but then she wasn’t chained to her cell wall in Azkaban.

Bella’s new cell was empty of anything save her and the glowing white chains. But somehow that felt more oppressive.

Bella didn't like this. She couldn’t exist like this. It was unfamiliar. It was lonely and desolate, as if she was stranded with no hope in the middle of a desert: alone.

There were no dementors to make her remember her worst moments in life, but she didn't need them here. With her mind, so clear she thought about so much that her chest sometimes hurt, and in that respect maybe this prison was worse. Bella’s own mind would punish her for the terrible things she had done; some she realised she even regretted.

Bella thought back to her mother and father. She remembered disappointing them on so many occasions. But it wouldn’t matter what she did. They would have never been satisfied. They were always angry at something that didn’t go their way. They always had so much and yet they always wanted more.

Before with the dementors influence, Bella had screamed in anguish for being such a disappointing child. Her head was never clear enough to think for herself. But here; in this cell, she wished she had just killed them herself. Why should she have cared about their approval? What had they ever done that was so great by their daughters? She remembered she hadn't been sad at their funerals. She had smiled; she had hated them!

Why did she never remember that under the dementors? She remembered looking at her mother's grave and feeling content! She had been free from the woman! She had wished things had been different! She didn't know what would have been better, if anything, but the way the woman had expected so much, too much from her and her sisters was pathetic! She swore she would never be pathetic like her mother and father and joined the Death Eaters shortly after her death to her aunts' pleasure, but she hated her too!

Bellatrix didn't feel that she needed any member of her family to approve after that. All she needed was the Dark Lord, and she climbed up his approval rating faster than any man.

It was a glorious time. The Dark Lord didn't look down on Bella’s talents because she was a young woman, but he welcomed her.

The Dark Lord had faith in her power, and she took sick pleasure in-lording her superior position over other Death Eaters eventually earning their fear because they would not respect a woman. Her Lord always said for those who not respect: make fear.

But still; it was always the same temperature in Bella’s cell, which had some benefits over Azkaban. It wasn't too warm, and it wasn't too cool; there wasn't even a slight breeze, and she didn't sweat. But she was hungry now, famished, and her lips were cracked from dehydration.

Bella hadn't eaten much since Azkaban (at least they fed her, though she never wants to know what it was) because it made her feel sick, but now she could eat a hippogriff or two.

In Azkaban Bella had to do worse than eat the gruel to survive. She had to drink her own urine in prison. But here she couldn’t. it wasn’t like there where she was certainly not the only prisoner left no choice through dehydration.

"Who are you!?" Bella suddenly roared out into the empty nothing. Her voice echoed off the walls for the first time in a while. She struggled tiredly against her chains, but they wouldn't budge. She was too weak to struggle for long. She felt exhausted just trying. She felt her stomach turn. She felt as if she had been sick over and over but nothing spewed from her stomach to pass her cracked lips.

No answer. That was the usual response to Bella’s cries. She felt herself shaking before she shook off the feeling of hopelessness and desperation.

Bella wasn't a helpless little girl any more. She refused to cry over anything, much less what she had no control over. She hated the feeling more than anything and desperately squished it down to the back of her mind.

She blinked tears back. If Bella’s mother ever saw her reacting like that she would have been disowned along with her moron cousin Sirius, and her sister Andromeda.

But maybe if Bella had been disowned she wouldn't have been in the cell; who knew what might have been? She had to shake away those thoughts, but they kept coming, worse than anything dementors could do; she realised she was punishing herself with these thoughts; that was all she had time for: thinking of the past and present.

Bella kind of missed her sister a bit sometimes. Andromeda was always the brains of the three sisters. There was her, Bellatrix, and Narcissa. But then Andromeda married that mud-blood, Tonks. Though, Bellatrix could personally not care one way or the other who her sisters married as long as their husbands weren’t arseholes, which meant she hated Narcissa’s husband more.

It was supposed to be about pure-blood morals and honour. Andromeda had tainted the family with impure blood, and that was the way they were raised to be respectable pure-bloods, so going against the order of things was wrong, wasn't it?

How long had it been since her capture? She was sure that whatever was keeping her awake wasn't doing perfectly, making her lose track of everything, even her thoughts, and nightmares were blending into daydreams. Bella was just too tired that she kept having moments of unconsciousness; not sleep, but passing out meant some less pain on her body, for a few moments before it came back tenfold.

It was nearing Christmas when Bella was captured. Just a few weeks to go. It would be the first proper Christmas she had since going to jail. She had been ecstatic to be free from that hell. She was certain she wasn't going back ever again. But what was going to happen to her? She didn't have the slightest clue. And if she were to guess outright she would say that she was going to die soon.

She hadn't been caught by aurors. They were useless. And because of that mindless minister and his greed and fear. Well the Dark Lord had been back for a couple of years, and there was proof, but he kept on denying the return of the Dark Lord. That meant even though the aurors were going behind the ministers back they were so far behind.

It was in the Dark Lord's favour, but honesty, nobody, or near nobody would believe Albus Dumbledore over the bumbling minister? Though, it was odd that Harry Potter had never gone on record to side with Dumbledore on the matter.

Potter just sat back and became very non-committal over the subject, neither denying the Dark Lords return, nor agreeing with it. Rumour said Potter was a very cunning little bastard: a fox lying in wait.

She had thought she had seen and heard everything after that. But the worse was the idiot minister was trying to blame Sirius for breaking her out of jail? The ministry deserved to be conquered by someone with half a brain cell just for that incompetence. She and Sirius had never gotten along when they were kids, and their animosity had only gotten worse over the years.

The signs were clear as day. But Sirius faced corruption of the highest level when he received no trail. And he was as good as they got back then, especially coming from a dark family. But that was all they needed. Sirius coming from a dark family condemned him to the ignorant.

But then that could have boiled down to Dumbledore’s scheming. But then she got a trail, and she was a crazy bitch. Though, it could have been because it was a group trial and it was all about Barty Crouch Junior. Still; it was a sham of a trail.

Bella was not only unrepentant, but she and her fellow Death Eaters readily admitted their crimes with glee dripping from their voice’s when she at least, should have probably stitched up some loser Death Eaters she didn't like so she could continue the search for the Dark Lord.

Blinking back those thoughts, the aurors were certainly out. But Bella couldn't have been captured by the Order of the Phoenix either. And though they were always looking for her master. And they knew and believed the Dark Lord had returned; they weren't any better than the aurors.

The Order followed the lead of an old crackpot that pretty much ruled over idiots without them realising. It was pitiful how easily the old man controlled so many fools, and let them die so that he could give murdering psychos a second chance just because they were pure-bloods: ridiculous! They didn't even seem to realise that the old man let their people run to death so readily while not condoning the deaths of Death Eaters.

The Order of the Phoenix likely wouldn't have kept her as their prisoner. And they would have handed her over to the ministry for her to escape again a few days later. Though, they would never have attacked her in the back like a smart person; they would have been foolish enough to confront her head on, and she would have defeated them, and they would have died slow and painful deaths for their stupidity because the Order were made up of whiny idiots.

Even if the Order did capture her for themselves; they wouldn't have kept her in such a clean holding cell anyway. And they certainly wouldn’t have the funding to build anything like Bella’s cell. Especially now that they don’t have the Potter’s funding, and Harry Potter was uninterested in them.

But most importantly, she knew Dumbledore would not approve of such a cell. It was much to advanced and imaginative. It was much too muggle in her opinion. But she pushed aside that before she started to really panic. She could only take solace that she could sense the magic; the wards: wards much to ahead of anything idiot Order mage could come up with.

The Order wouldn't have chained Bella to a wall like she was because 'Dumbledore' was 'better' than torture; until he was throwing people in Azkaban. He didn’t have to deal with that on any kind of personal level.

Then, the Order wouldn't have taken her clothes from her and left her looking so undignified. They would have felt more humiliated then her, and Bella doubted they would have the guts.

Bella could secretly admit she was discomforted, and she was afraid, but she would persevere for her master.

Looking straight forward she could see her reflection in the mirror; Azkaban hadn't done anything for her complexion. She was paler than she ever was, but her breasts were still full, and her body slim. She had cold blue eyes that seemed unable to stay open for long, and long dark brown crinkled hair over her shoulders.

Bella had lost some weight from where she hung. But mainly from her stay in Azkaban. It had taken Bella too long to realise that it must have been a powerful rune that was making sure a bathroom wasn't needed, or she would likely be covered in it as much as she was in Azkaban when she was rescued from that hell.

At least that was something good about Bella’s Wardens. That was probably the worst part of Azkaban, other than dementors, doing her 'business' in a hole in the ground that always over flowed during bad weather, which was most of the time, as the dementors always brought with them storms while in large swarms.

"Please!" she whispered weakly as she came to terms that finally she was going to die more alone than she ever felt before.

Bella’s Wardens had sentenced her to die of hunger, uncomfortable, and deprived of any sleep with spots in her eyes from the bright lights.

"Why don't you just kill me already!" Bella demanded with a wicked grin on her face. "What are you? Cowards? Come on! Place your hands around my fucking throat and squeeze! Enjoy my death! Enjoy my struggles! As you squish the life out of my panicked body!" she demanded.

Bella had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, behind her navel. She squirmed against her chains. She had never felt anything like it before. As she said those words, thinking about the actions behind them; her heartbeat quickened.

Bellatrix shook away the odd feelings as she hadn't expected an answer to her desperate pleas. Therefore, she was startled out of her stupor, as she heard a nose to her left.

There was no exit or entrance that she could see, but with magic there didn’t need to be. However, there he stood. A tall, strong man. He was wearing a strange outfit with a hood over his head, covering his face in deep shadows.

He stood out vastly in the white room. His long coat flayed out at the bottom, uncontrolled with a life of its own trailing darkness that could likely swallow death itself.

His coat was like black smoke. The darkness seemed to suck in the light, making it waver and fluctuate with is mere presence. Dimming the cell in shadow. The man’s whole outfit was black smoke, slipping away and absorbing the light, hiding him.

The man in shadows walked around to stand in front of her. It seemed like she watched him forever, but it couldn’t have taken more than a second before he was standing before her.

Then his clothes shimmered and he flickered away, not even leaving a shadow as he burst away before he reappeared. She could see him behind her in the mirror as he ran his gloved fingers over the side of her thighs before leaving her alone and moving back to stand before her.

She shivered as his cold gaze met her frightened eyes. She jumped as his clothes shimmered from top to bottom with black light and the smoke of the clothes reformed, solid.

The Wardens coat was black leather and hung to his ankles. It was open with two buckles over his chest and one over his waist. He wore a black top underneath, moulded to his muscular frame, and black combat trousers, and black boots.

She could see his face and some black hair under his hood. He wore stylish ski-shades curving at angles, black framed, hiding his eyes behind a dark mirrored tint that showed her reflection while he was smirking.

He reached out his leather gloved right hand and slid it up her small empty stomach while she held still. She wasn’t even sure whether she was glaring at him properly.

His hand slid up, curving over her left breast and pinching her nipple, tweaking it slightly, which surprised her as she gasped as it felt odd. She hadn’t felt anything like it before. Nobody had ever touched her like that before.

It wasn’t painful, but it might as well have been. She didn't understand what that unfamiliar feeling was when he suddenly let her go. He turned from her, stepping away and watching her and himself in the mirror as she knew his glasses would let him see clearly in the light.

"Odd, isn't it?" he asked. She noticed the modulation to his voice, so she couldn't tell who he was, or recognise him if she ever escaped, even though that was highly improbable. That made her realise she may have met him before. "The trouble men would go through to control the fairer sex!"

"Who are you? What are you talking about?" she demanded croakily, incensed by his babble. But she knew who this was. She should have known from the start who would have the guts to capture her – who would take her from behind.

However, he didn't turn to face her; she could see he was looking at her reflection. "My dear, Bella!" he began by mocking her when he said her name. "Father passes it down to son, but first the Hogwarts wards around the girls’ dorms begin the cycle," he said chuckling while he shook his head, amused as he turned to face her, moving closer he stroked up her right arm with his left gloved hand before stopping at her pulse point.

"There are many pure-blood women on the 'light' side who know and because of benevolent men like Dumbledore think it is only right, but most like you, never realise. Though, this," he said, stroking his fingers and thumb over her wrist just below her shackle.

Bella strained to see it. But it was there. Black ink marking the five points of the pentagram design. With coppery lining the inner walls of the think black linings like red shadows. And within the copper she could see the spider web of writing too small to decipher with the naked eye, written with magic; the whole thing was as small as a bronze knutt.

"Quite clever of me," he interrupted her, matter-of-factually, maybe even gloatingly. "I created this seal within your blood to nullify and destroy the jinx, and its effects, if it ever comes near you again; it makes sure it doesn't work on you any longer."

"W-what jinx!?" she demanded quietly and confused with a catch to her throat as she was scared that she was in ‘his’ custody. "What have you done to me!?"

He chuckled, "such a bright woman, but so obedient to the status quo; stuck in pure-blood ignorance,” he replied laughingly. “There is a charm – a jinx I should say - that can even be implanted in wards that – how should I put this...?" he asked himself whimsically while she watched him, half curious, but more terrified the more he watched her; the more he talked.

"I guess straight to the point is best,” he continued whimsically. “It stops you from having any sexual aspirations, makes you think that you're just for breeding stock, and that sex only gratifies men. It makes sure you don't leave to find gratification elsewhere, especially not the muggle world, or a better wizard, maybe one not pure of blood.

"It keeps their women obedient like pitiful animals!” He growled out here, making her flinch as it made him angry, and that wowed her. “It effects all the girls at Hogwarts and the few lesser schools in the UK. How very sad," he said looking downcast as he got his anger under control.

His hand trailed down her arm and chest to rest on her breast, squeezing it softly he looked up at her, calm again.

Bella started feeling that odd thing in the pit of her stomach again, and the more he massaged her tender flesh, letting his fingers brush her hard and surprisingly sensitive nipple the more she felt – nice. Nice in a bad and sick; forbidden way she didn’t and couldn’t understand or explain.

"I bet many women would fall free from the spell though," he continued conversationally, "marrying muggle-born men who never knew about it, and would never agree with it. Or maybe some would break free because the man got lazy and forget to reapply it. Or they couldn't afford to add it to the home wards because the charm is unstable and wears off. The women likely think it was natural, having no proper sex education to prove to the contra.

"I have discovered that occasionally Hogwarts isn't the safe place you would think, being a school," he continued whimsically. "Voldemort figured it out. Voldemort might not have become the 'man' he is today if he didn't! But then I wonder how my scans - no matter how many we take say you have never 'bred', curious, no, considering you have a husband who would want an heir?"

"He never worked!" she surprisingly answered snidely. "Both he and his brother tried to have me, but they're both broken rejects!" she laughed croakily, despite her fear.

"The cost of so much inbreeding!" her Warden commented with a slight chuckle. "You need to be a little more diversity. All this inner-family breeding. Cousin fucking… it weakens the magical blood! I bet even your master understands this. Maybe your master just doesn't care, and uses fools like them as a means - to an end?"

She glared at him with a sneer, "so, you expect me to tell you my masters' secrets!?" she demanded hatefully, but she didn't wait for a reply as she gave him her answer, "do what you want with me because I'm not talking!" she spat out.

"Oh no, dear! Don't really need you to tell us anything," he replied, shrugging, "know most of Voldemort's secrets already," he answered shaking his head. "In fact, I would bet I know more than you-!" he removed his hand from her chest a moment later and frowned. "Sorry, but I guess we'll have to continue this later, Bella, love. I believe I have a visitor. How nice for your master to visit me personally. I so do look forward to our meetings; your master does have quite the amusing side sometimes."

"He's come to get me back, Smoke!" she roared out as a door to the side slid open into darkness even though she could never tell that it was there before. He walked towards the door ignoring her. "That is who you are, isn't it!? Smoke: the hunter within the shadows; no known motive; no known allegiance or allies, just a man who kills those in his way, so why keep me like this?"

Smoke didn't answer as his coat burst to life with his clothes, streaming into a white coat with the same black underneath. The door slid shut after him, leaving her alone once more; this time with a strange and foreign wetness trailing down her upper thighs.

to be continued…
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