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Scourge	By : Tainted_Blood_Lust Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > General - Misc Views: 2169 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. I also do not own the Naruto franchise. I make no money in writing this.

Chapter List
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Scourge – Prologue: Birth of a Nightmare

TBL: Hullo, my readers. I know I really shouldn’t be starting another fic, but this one was too tempting of an idea. I had wanted to write something for this challenge for a long time before this plotbunny finally bit me. Anyway, I'm using a new writing style (complete with first POV), and I really hope you guys (and gals) like it. However, if you're confused about it, just think of the words in italics between the dashes as substitutes for the next word(s) coming after them.

And for Christ's sake, read the damn warnings.

Full Summary: I, Harry Potter, am a plague upon this world and into the next. Gods tremble before my might.

Harry's reign comes to a swift end when his animagus form, the feared Tantalus, is summoned into another realm. At first, he is confused and lost in this new world, but that is quickly overcome. He starts causing trouble, spreading his reach from the shadows. However, he goes too far and is then locked away, sealed for all eternity – or so they think. He is awakened many years into the future when an unsuspecting shinobi comes across a strange object. From there, it's only a matter of time before he starts anew in the game of power. Conquering this new world is his goal, and Harry won't let anything stand in his way.

I am the Scourge.

And I will bring the world to its knees.

Challenge Taken: No summary

-Harry/Male

-Harry’s animagus form must be summoned into an alternate dimension in place of a demon

-It must be a dangerous animagus form that is uncommon i.e. try to be creative with it

-Can be a crossover, but put the story in the other show/book/etc. unless Harry Potter world eventually has a major role

-Harry must be dom

- Harry must be considered an “ancient” being when the bulk of the story happens unless it’s a prequel to real story

-Harry must be powerful, but not God Like

Challenge Issued By: KingofLoosePages (on fanfiction,net)

Warnings: violence/blood/gore (it's going to rain blood), cannibalism (and a lot of it, not just some silly little implied thing), language, mentioned homosexual pairing(s), mentioned heterosexual pairing(s) (it's inevitable), threesome (M/M/M), changed timeline/AU/AR, very dark plot, crossover (no shit), character death (major and minor), hinted necrophilia (with the possibility of more), torture, genderbender (male!Hermione), anything I can think of

Pairing(s) (dominant to least dominant): Harry x Hermes (male!Hermione) x Ron

Disclaimer: I, Tainted_Blood_Lust, do not own the Harry Potter franchise. I also do not own the Naruto franchise. I make no money in writing this.

Also, the definition for 'scourge' is directly from Wikipedia's sister dictionary/thesaurus website. Therefore, it is not mine.

Enjoy.

X

SCOURGE

(n.) a persistent pest, illness, or source of trouble; cause of suffering to people

X

January 21, 1348

I had had my first taste of flesh, first meal of Nirvana, at the tender age of nine.

I had been left out of –

my own personal preview of Hell

– my relatives' shambled abode, forgotten like the corpse of some poor stranger in the street.

Life was cruel in that sad sort of way.

It had been over two weeks, the last few days spent in a pseudo-pleasant haze, at the time. The whole time, a part of me pondered on –

why, why, why?

– the harsh reality, that it really wasn't a fairy tale ending. Of course, I had always known this, seen through unhindered eyes, but being sent out of 'my' (a term, a seemingly-granted possessive, that was used loosely) place to sleep –

because 'living' couldn't be applied to staying there

– was new to me, a punishment that lingered in the back of their minds yet had never come to fruition before. The Dursleys, my relatives and minders, had a policy regarding me that 'no care' could be considered 'basic care' and often denied me food, which, mixed with forced labor, was regarded as a punishment, my rightful due, for having an allegedly-demonic status. Thus, I was, in a sense, used to –

painabusehurt and wantneedfood

– the pathetic hand dealt to me by Fate, and when I was kicked out into the bitter cold of that January's weather, I was only a smidgeon surprised.

There's always that one little piece of hope that refuses to go away, the undying remains of Pandora's box. Forever crushing it was a futile task.

At first, I looked for somewhere to –

forget the world and its nasty claws

– rest, being as exhausted as I was from –

living

– the day's chores, but it proved to be an impossible task, meant for those not lacking –

someone who cared

– a place to be. At the height of the Great Pestilence, God's punishment supposedly for mankind's evil –

something that had always existed and always would, alpha and omega

– there were dead, diseased bodies everywhere, an uncaring rat's feast.

Strange how the rats died from not enough of a mind, while the humans died quicker of too much of a mind.

Mass burnings of the corpses, fires that sometimes resembled elemental Towers of Babel, could only do so much, as the toll grew too rapidly and spared no one. Thus, sleeping on the street, only two meters from a relatively new corpse, was my only option.

And who paid attention to a starving child roaming the town?

Hunger, that desperate longing so familiar to me, swiftly became an issue, gnawing at me more forcefully with each passing day. It had started –

with my cursed birth

– several days before I had been –

shown a door leading from one Hell to another

– kicked out. Finding food, anything proven to be edible, was like finding –

kindness in the world

– a needle in a haystack, near impossible to find to the point where wild, irrational dreams started to look more likely. After a while, a pseudo-pleasant haze, the sort of glaze that clogs the senses and ravages the mind, fell upon me.

The effects of demonic powers, the Dursleys would whisper.

Everything was dulled, and I had the sensation of –

biting into flesh for the first, glorious time, perfection repeated over and over

– floating on a cloud, disconnected from the world. The few healthy humans scurrying –

like prey from the mere sense of a predator, its invisible presence looming ever near

– down the streets began to morph, transforming into something different, a new role. The dark corner of my mind, one –

that became a dear friend in harsh times

– every human heard passionate, sinful whispers from, spoke to me then. Its soft suggestions –

They're just meat in the end.

– turned gradually to screams of devout faith to evils that always lingered –

You have the power! Take what you need!

– that encouraged the shallowly-buried monster within me to rise up. It clawed its way to my conscious mind with little resistance, soon reminding me day and night of my difference from the norm. These yet-unnameable powers I held, an aptitude for fire and budding skills in control, even with their uncontrollable spurts, suddenly became viable options. With this revelation came –

a long-lost sense of freedom

– a rough plan to obtain nourishment.

Thus, I waited in the shadows of twilight, the bewitching hour when the world suddenly became that much more dangerous and the shadows seemed to come alive. I waited for the monstrous fire I had created to chase the town's widow out of her home. The small cottage burnt well –

under the almost sentient flame, twisting and morphing from one creature to the next

– with its highly flammable building materials. The fire also spread to a church next door under my direction.

It was almost too easy to force something to one's heart's desire with only will and power.

The clergy ran out screaming, quicker to escape than the woman, my chosen meal. Their heavy robes restricted movement, and yet their frantic minds moved them on, on, on without taking the garment off. One was too slow, a frail old man with skin stretched tightly over easily-shattered bones, and was lit aflame. The fire spread at an unnatural pace all over his body, seeking his destruction. Amused, I let it do so and reveled in the shrieks of 'deviltry.'

The woman, meanwhile, shivered in terror, staring at her home that was rapidly ceasing to exist in shock. It was –

a delicious scene

– the perfect time to strike. While the priests were –

praying to their feeble, nonexistent God, hoping for a savior that would never come

– distracted, I concentrated on forcing my will upon the widow, getting her to –

meet her demise

– go to a nearby alleyway, one nobody used anymore. She was laughingly easy to control, a wooden puppet for all her resistance. I made sure no one noticed her wooden, forced motions and the unnatural glow in her brown eyes (an unfortunate side-effect of controlling someone). It was easy, as everyone, the townspeople and clergy alike, was concentrating on the monstrous flames. As she came ever closer, I began to grin wildly and shake with –

the need to kill, bite, tear her apart

– an uncontrollable excitement. I wanted so bad to feel the blood slipping down my throat, down my front in rushing rivers. I wanted to sink my teeth in a part of her – any part would do – and feel the flesh breaking. I wanted the taste of raw meat to fill my mouth, to crunch bone, and lick it all up at the end. I wanted my hunger to be satisfied.

And satisfied, it would be.

The seconds ticked by like hours as she completed her journey to me, and I swallowed excess saliva all the while, impatient to get started. Then, the widow stood in front of me at long last, eyes staring blankly ahead and mouth slightly ajar.

“Die,” I whispered harshly, and it was a command that –

damned her completely

– could not be denied. Her –

soul

– heart abruptly ceased to work. There was a single moment of shock, surprise, fear in her eyes before the woman crumpled to the ground. I didn't bother to catch her; no one heard the thump of her landing.

I eyed –

my prize

– her for a brief moment, reveling in my feeling of victory, the afterglow of a job well done. I went forward, stumbling a bit in my inattention, with my entire focus on the woman. I got o my knees before her, almost in a certain sort of reverence. I got to my hands and knees, leaning forward to smell –

the imaginary scent of an equally mind-only paradise

– her lingering aroma and touching my tongue to her arm, tasting thoroughly.

The general populous cringed away from what they considered filth. They were wrong. It was an ambrosia.

One more taste of sweet, sweet skin, feeling the –

new drug that hooked without mercy and pulled with the strength of a thousand gods, all to the melody of a Siren's song

– motionless muscle underneath, was enough of teasing myself before I finally sunk in my teeth, a young –

beast, with razor-claws and a dangerous mind, bathed in wickedness

– predator biting into that first self-caught kill.

The taste was indescribable in its perfection.

I hurriedly swallowed the chunk with little grace or chewing. Blood dripped down my chin, and not wanting to waste anything, I licked up what I could reach, hastily scooping up the rest with my hands to drink that too. A small moan, uncontrollable in its journey to the otherwise quiet air, escaped me, and a strange, new pleasure –

heady and similar to the presence of the great monster lurking within

– came over me. I would later learn it to be a powerful lust that erased all other feelings.

Every mouthful I took seemed greater than the last, fueling a reaction that kept building upon itself. In a wholly overpowering daze, I barely noticed the woman's arm disappearing. The only things left were bones, glistening with saliva and picked clean of muscle and sinew. Halfway through her abdominal area, the fog lifted a bit as my stomach announced its lack of vacancy. I had a sudden craving for –

more, more, more

– bones and thus stuffed what remained of a finger into my mouth. I easily crunched them with a strength that had hidden from even its owner. My eyes barely opened throughout the whole process.

The world didn't revolve around a sun of fire. It was made of blood and demanding urges.

Also, a second, more subtle –

butterfly-like transformation, an ascending of stages

– change went on, unnoticed at the time. I would discover this several long years later, a most unexpected and wonderful difference.

This was –

the road to perdition

– a birth, the beginning of Scourge – the world's worst nightmares collected and made reality. This was the true day of creation for me.

Harry James Potter.

X

END of Prologue: Birth of a Nightmares

NOTES:

“Towers of Babel”: The Tower of Babel is a story in the Bible. Basically, these people (from Babel) tried to build a tower to heaven, and God didn't really appreciate that. Thus, he destroyed the tower and split the people up, making them all speak different languages so they couldn't understand each other and build a new one.

“Siren's song”: A Siren is a creature in mythology that is sort of a mermaid-ish woman. They sing beautiful songs to get sailors to come near them in a trance and eat them when they're close enough.

TBL: Hope you liked it! If you did (or didn't), please give me some feedback (review or not). I love to know how I'm doing (good or bad). That said, I'm not going to hold chapters hostage for reviews or whatever.

On a different note, this is just the prologue, so the actual chapters will be much longer. Normally I wouldn't put out only the prologue without having finished the first chapter, but I like this one so much I thought I'd go for it.

The next chapters will be in the HPverse, detailing slightly tweaked versions of books one through four (I'll make them interesting though). It'll be one year per chapter. After that, I do a bit more of that universe for the background then Harry'll go to the Narutoverse. I didn't exactly want to plan it that way in the beginning, but it's now an inevitable thing.

The few. The proud. The strong. The reviewers. Be a reviewer today. Help your writer.

9/23/2011

EDIT (9/28/2011): Gave credit to issuer of challenge. XD Sorry about that!

EDIT (10/10/2011): Changed the pairing (screw you, Kabuto...) and added the male!Hermione warning.

EDIT (6/5/2012): Changed a few things for the AFF version. Left the author's notes and most of everything the way it was.
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Scourge