The Kindly Ones

The Kindly Ones

Chapter Sixteen

The Definition of Irony

Disclaimer: ect, ect, ect . . .

It wasn't blood in general he couldn't stand the sight of, it was just his blood in particular that was so upsetting.

-- (Terry Pratchett, Sourcery)

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Back in the 1820's an enterprising Hufflepuff had sold ‘paint by numbers’ moving pictures to his classmates. The art professor of the time, a Mr. Oudry thought that all the amateur self portraits of his students were just 'smashing' and had collected all of them together, then they cleared an entire hall for their exhibition. Unfortunately the student who created them, had not paid enough attention in his charms class and the paint by numbers portraits had not turned out as advertised.

The personality of each pictures' subject, was rude, and angry. As soon as the paint had been dry, the paintings various artists had their greatest secrets told to the rest of the school. It was only after a particularly florid portrait of the headmaster had begun to regale the school, who had all attended the opening of the picture exhibition, with a tale of what the Headmaster had been doing over the summer holidays - where he had told everyone he was visiting a sick aunt - that they realised the full problem.

The student who had created the paint sets and sold them to the school could not show his face in class again, and years later he left the magical world. The last that was heard from him was that he was trading under the name Dorian Gray.

The hallway had been closed off, and shut up as the teachers had discovered they could not remove the paintings from their specially picked walls; but it didn't take long for the annoying painting to make their way around the school and stick their noses into everything. The teachers were able to get them to stay in their hallway but the other paintings made an effort to visit them often. They always had the best gossip; and when you’re stuck on a wall for five hundred years, that can be the best thing in your existence. After a few years that hallway had become known as the Gallery of Gossip and students tended to stay the hell away from it.

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If you looked underneath Snape's greasy, snarky, sneering exterior you wouldn't find a hidden heart of gold. If he had a heart of gold it had been pawned years ago with no regrets from its owner.

Snape was not going to befriend any cute orphan chimney sweeps and through a series of humorous misadventures discover his secret love for all mankind. and cute fluffy animals. Unless, that is, the cute fluffy animals came covered in a nice plum sauce.

At an early age Snape had realised he wasn't a nice person, had embraced the arse hole inside, and hadn't looked back since.

Torturing small children was for Snape just a side benefit of being a teacher at Hogwarts. Like all bullied children he had dreamed of demeaning and making the offspring of his tormentors wet themselves in terror. A small man who found pleasure in tormenting people who could not fight back.

Tonight he was walking the corridors of Hogwarts as he did every Thursday and Tuesday night searching for any child who may have snuck out of their common house. Wearing his usual black gown, the only change was a bulge under his right arm from a camera he had brought along to catch the look on any children's face he might catch unaware. At this very moment he was thinking about if he needed to put another freezing charm on all the stools in his potions classroom to make his students even more uncomfortable.

Coming in the opposite direction was a hurrying Harry Potter.

Harry had finally been released from his hospital bed. Hermione had dumped a pile of paper work on his lap before Tea and had told him 'You have two eyes and a heart beat you can read it yourself." Hermione had been quite annoyed with Harry for, once again ending up in the hospital ward. "I don't know, Harry, sometimes I think you must have a mystical bulls eye painted on your back." Before Harry could answer back with

"I'm sorry you’re so inconvenienced by my being in the hospital next time I'll make sure I die so you don't have to visit." Hermione was out the door.

As soon as Harry woke up tomorrow, he’d have some 'me' time, a shower, maybe some more 'me' time, another shower, breakfast, then he would talk to Dumbledore, and off load this steaming pile of 'What the Fuck'; on his furry head.

After the Gryffindor girl had left in a huff, Ron, who had visited with her had explained to Harry that when she heard Harry had been attacked she had been ‘sick’ herself and had come down from the girls dormitory like a thunderstorm. Ron himself was happy to see that Harry was well and in one piece. "Was it Voldemort?" Ron asked after Hermione left.

"Probably." Harry didn't act fazed "What do you think it'll be this year?" Giants? Ents? Smurfs?" Ron saw the strain around Harry's eyes and joined in the joke.

"I heard the vampires have gone on strike, You-know-who wouldn't offer them life insurance." Harry smiled,

"The werewolves won't work during that time of the month."

"And the zombies' won't work with the ghouls."

"Old Voldy is probably worrying about getting good minions right now."

"I can see his ads in the Prophet now.” Dark Lord likes long torturing sessions in dungeons, and Tom Clancy novels, looking for a soulless thug who will lick the souls of my boots on a cold winters night."

"Do they have personals in the Prophet?"

"I don't know but you could see it, couldn't you?" Ron looked at Harry for a moment. "Dark Lord seeks companionship. I suppose, but what manky idiot would deserve that?"

"I don't know… I can think of a few." When you say you wouldn't wish something on your worst enemy, it's hard to decide, when you have so many enemies. Both boys kept joking for a while until Ron had to leave for class. Laughter is always the best medicine. If you ignore drugs.

It was later that night and Harry had just been released from his Hospital bed, with madam Pomfrey giving him a very quick once over to make sure he wasn't still missing any limbs and with instructions to kindly rest in his own bed and not suffer any further assassination attempts, if he could possibly avoid it.

Making his way back to Gryffindor tower he wished someone had brought him a change of clothes; the scruffy dressing gown he had left at the hospital at some point, was not what he wanted everyone to see him in; Hermione’s novel length notes under his arm. Maybe he could suggest that next time she did some research that he could get the cliff notes. But even he didn't want to see her face if he suggested that.

Now all he wanted to do was get back into his room pull back the curtains and have some 'me' time. So he wasn't paying much attention to where he was going. In fact he was paying absolutely no attention to the world around him, or the world inside his head for that matter.

And it was only when the harsh clickng noises he had been hearing nearly constantly for the past week became loud enough to distract him from thoughts of 'me' time did he look at where he was walking, and curse himself for being an idiot. The Gossip Gallery was in front of him.

He had once stumbled into the hallway back in his second year; it had taken him two hours to escape their constant insults and embarrassing information. He didn't want to know anything about Professor McGonagall and Fluffy. Turning quickly on his heel he spun around to see a smirking Snape.

Now, Snape did find pleasure in many things in his life, he wasn't a complete misery guts. Seeing the look on a child face as they realise that not all the excuses in the world are going to save their sorry arses from a week’s misery and detention was one of them. Being a teacher at Hogwarts for over a decade had left him with many small pleasures.

As Harry Potter turned to face him, outside curfew, far from his common room, and dressed in a ratty dressing gown, he almost burst out with joy, but sniggered instead.

"Potter, twice in one week. You’re making this much too easy." Harry said nothing. "What no spluttering claims of your innocence."

Frowning Harry looked hard at the stones under his feet. "No one is here to help you. It's just you and I. Which you'll be seeing a lot of; after you meet me for a week’s detention cleaning Longbottom’s caustic bottomed cauldrons."

All Harry did was jerk his head up from his intense study of the ground and up to stare at Snape’s stomach. "I'm sure I have some particularly gruesome examples of Longbottom’s incompleteness stacked at the back of my classroom’s cupboard."

Still no real response from Harry; usually by this time in his rant, the-boy-that-annoys would be spluttering incomprehensibly to explain his actions. Or coming up with some particularly stupid reasons for his whereabouts. "What Potter, no claims of innocence. I would be disappointed; if I cared."

Snape was almost skipping in anticipation of Harry's future discomfort; only to stop his next insult when Harry looked up and Snape saw the expression on his face.

Click . . .Click . . .Click . . .Snick. The cold snide tone of Snapes voice cut through the metaphysical noise like a hot wand through butter. The harsh metal sound stopped abruptly and, for the first time in what he realised had been hours, his head was his own. Swinging around he got ready to let rip with his usual reply to Snape's taunts. But with his first view of Snape the world changed.

Everything was crisp and clear, like at six in the morning after a winter’s frost. The world around him was held in tight focus, he could pick out the tiny specks of gray lint caught in Snapes black robes; he could see the tiny crystals of quartz caught in the stone under their feet, glittering minutely in the light of the torches. The torches must have been reflecting off a stained window because the quartz was shining blue.

Staring fixedly at the ground, Harry couldn't look away from the world that was springing to life in front of his eyes. Dragging his face upwards he was amazed at the threads of Snapes robe, twisting all the thousands of strands. All that existed in his world were these details. Ever so slowly he brought his face up to Snape's smug grin, and his world exploded.

"Ssssssss . . ." Snape watched as Harry breathed out hissing, shaking his head. A look of intense loathing gracing his features. "So many, so many..." The look in Harry's eyes almost made Snape take a step back.

"Speak up, if you’re going to make an excuse it better be a bloody entertaining one." From Snape's perspective it looked like some one had jerked Harry up by the scruff of his dressing gown and he stood taller and straighter. "Well, say something, boy?"

"You stink." This was quietly hissed by Harry and Snape could hardly hear it.

"Right, how does two weeks scrubbing cauldrons with a toothbrush sound." Harry continued to shake his head but his gaze never left Snapes face.

"Once lines are drawn, they must never be crossed."

The last three words, still hissed, were almost shouted. Snorting Snape just gestured grandly with one hand. "Speaking gibberish will get you no where."

"A pound of flesh and a gallon of blood. Your fees are high, Man. . . . So many." With that Harry stopped shaking his head and Snape finally got a good look at Harry's face. His pupils had shrunk to pin holes and his irises were so large Snape would swear they were glowing.

The teen's face was tight and fierce, his nostrils flared in rage. From nowhere a wind had begun to sweep down the hallway and Snape watched Harry's unruly hair curl in the wind. But Snape had made many people angry over his long career and Harry did not scare him, yet.

To Harry it was like, but not like he had been drawn into a pensive, the world dropped away around him. He was still aware of his body, in a detached manner but what was most important was the scene that was now playing out in front of him.

The world swam in a familiar manner until it stabalised and he could see two people facing each other. Again the world shuddered and he recognised them as Snape and Dumbledore. "I pledge that with my dying breath I shall always protect the Order and all that it holds dear. No one shall suffer under my wand. On this I give my oath." Dumbledore looked down at his bowed head and nodded.

"I accept your oath." He gave the customary answer "May your bones be crushed and you blood run dry if ever you break it."

With the last word, Harry's world was swept away from him and he faced another scene this time the world was cut away except for a lone Snape caught alone in an office; the glittering hoard of gadgets making this place easy to identify. Harry watched as Snape reached behind a frozen portrait of a long dead Headmistress. What ever he took from the hole shone with a golden light but was quickly hidden under Snapes robes.

At this Harry was once again swept away to a new scene, he felt like the ghost of Christmas Past A bright fire shone in the background, Snape stood back from it, clutching his wand to his chest. A loud crash and the fire surged up. Harry could now tell that it was a house that Snape was watching burn. The unmistakable smell of pain scented the air for Harry.

Another place Snape was bowing in front of a man, both were heavily wrapped in thick robes. "I pledge that with my dying breath I will always protect my Lord and all he holds. I will let no force stop me from carrying out your wishes. On this I give my oath." The other figure spoke Harry had realised his identity as soon as Snape had begun to speak.

"I accept your oath. May your bones be ground to a paste and your blood turned to acid in your veins if your break it." The memory, vision, whatever he was watching, of Snape kept changing.

"Voldemort will attack the village of Hedgemorton, on the 5th." Snape was telling this to a nodding Dumbledore who thanked the spy.

Harry was swept from scene to scene, watching Snape breaking his oaths, killing, spying and stealing. Finally, after what felt like hours, he dragged himself up out of the picture show. To see Snape, ‘oath-breaker’, standing before him.

The corridor was silent as Harry stared at Snape's face. "You have broken oath. Salt was shared and bread eaten. Your word was given, not once but twice. I name you oath breaker and as my duty is clear, your bones will be flayed from your flesh and fluid boiled from your veins." Harry knew that Snape was an oath-breaker and the words flew from his mouth without conscious thought, but he agreed with them.

It was just and right. Snape had sworn an oath in front of his elders, before the gods and had broken them. It was Harry's duty to be the god’s vengeance here at this very moment. Light in the hallway began to dim, and the torches flames sunk low as Harry seemed to grow and his presence filled the corridor. Snape found he couldn't move his body

"You have been judged and found wanting; I submit my verdict to the gods." Harry seemed to be listening to a voice only he could hear.

Snape superstitiously flung a quiet sleeping spell at the possessed Potter. It was ignored.

"I serve their will, let it be done." From nowhere a whip appeared in Harry's left hand. The wind died down as soon as the whip appeared but Harry's hair continued to thrash in an unfelt wind.

Snape's jaw was gaping open but snapped shut as the whip cracked out at him and caught him across the face. "Potter!" Swearing Snape stared as all the things he kept telling people about Harry Potter being mad and listening to voices turned out to be true.

"Put that bloody thing down right now." Ignoring Snape's demand Harry swept his arms up into the air and looked towards the sky.

"I dedicate this sacrifice of one, who has broken the second law." The lights in the hallway died completely and a bright blue glow surrounded Harry's upraised face and whip, Snape would have fallen backwards if his legs hadn't have been stuck in place. A coursing blue fire ran along the black edge of the whip as Harry brought it down with a sickening crack across Snape's face.

"Fucking Balls." the exclamation was ripped from Snape's mouth when he felt the bright burning pain of the whip cut his face like acid. Blood quickly pooled in the cut and he smelt the fresh blood flow down his face. Harry stepped back away from his Potions teacher and gestured with the whip pointing at the wall on his right.

Snape suddenly found himself flung by invisible hands face first against the wood paneled wall.

"youh goeng to egget ist otter." Snape's meant to say "Your going to regret this Potter."

The invisible hands pushed him hard against the wall and his cries were silenced as Harry began to lay a pattern of cuts up and down his back. As the whip cut through his gown and lay deep welts on his back Snape struggled. Then with building strength the blows grew deeper. When all his efforts to rip himself from the magical grip failed Snape began to weep, the salty tears washing away the blood on his cheek.

'Punishment for all crimes must be carried out, to the utmost of all my abilities.' Harry could not fight the overwhelming force that was controlling him mind and body. It was not him, Harry Potter that was laying into Snape's back with a whip and the urge to strip the flesh from his bones. But it was him. The only sound in the corridor were the weak whimpers that rose from Snape's throat, with each blow.

With each blow Harry seemed to glow brighter, his hair moving quickly his arm feel in a heavy beat and his skin shone with a faint blue radiance. He watched and no expression graced his features except grim determination.

As he drew his arm back for another punishing blow Snape's head feel backwards and he slumped in the magical chains. This snapped something his Harry's possessed mind. The whip disappeared in mid-strike, the blue light vanished and Snape fell to the ground as the torches sprang to light.

Still Unconscious Snape fell with a thud to the ground, his head bouncing as it landed on the stones. His eye's glazed in bewilderment Harry stared at what he had done. "Oh Bugger."

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Having been sent back to his dormitory before Harry Potter, Draco was scribbling another letter to his mum. If he didn't have an automatic correcting quill his bed would have been littered with scraps of paper. What was a simple letter was taking him several hours.

'Dear Mum, Have gone Mad. Please send chocolate. Love Draco.'

'Dear Mum, Harry Potter is Looking at me Funny, make him stop.'

'Dear Mum, What the hell is going on? Your Loving son Draco'

'Dear Mum, Why can't I stop thinking about the boy scout? Bad, Bad brain. . .'

'Dear Mum, I'm never eating chicken again'

'Dear Mum, I take that back, death to all avians'

'Dear Mum, Arrgggh . . .'

The last was not so much written as screamed as he threw his quill at his curtains. Madam Pomfrey sent him back to his dormitory for the rest for the night and to start fresh for the next day, on his word that he would stay away from all man eating birds of any sort, and Harry Potter. Exhausted by his poetic efforts, his room mates found him asleep early when they came up from their common room to go to bed. So there was no one around to see the blue feather appear on his cheek and glow through his bed's curtains then disappear.

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Authors Note

I'm still with us, and so is this story. Please don't hurt me.

With lots of words from my beta licelli, with out whom the ending of this chapter would be very different. The omake at the end of this note is in fact the original ending but I thought I worked hard on it and it deserves it's own place.

Please contact me with any questions.

OMAKE

"I dedicate this sacrifice of one, who has broken the second law." The lights in the hallway died completely and a bright blue glow surrounded Harry's upraised face and whip, Only to die as a fiery bolt of red slammed into Harry's stomach.

"Opphh" All of Harry's breath was forced out and he folded forwards to meet an upswinging bony fist. The world faded around his ears. The blue glow and his blood thirst fading along with his consciousness. If he could he would have heard Snape say

"Two Months detention with Filch, you little bastard." Someone stood above his head. "I always knew you were mad"