Methene

Cautious and wary, Methene walked down through the Hogwarts corridors. He had heard such horrors. Who would have thought his Purebloods could have sunk so low? He knew there was something else causing this devilry, and by Jupiter himself he was going to find it. Those responsible would pay with their life. After adequate suffering of course.

Hearing moans coming from the Slytherin showers, he directed his steps towards that place. It brought faint memories of better times and better wizards. Times when the locker room was used by proper wizards, not the sad squibs and magical impotents that populated Hogwarts these days.

Caution was always a Wizard's best ally in a fight, Abraxas used to say. Methene himself worshipped Fortuna, but his old friend's words were suited to the situation. The scene of horror in front of him would have suited the Day of Judgement, Dies Irae by Mozart, that is if Methene were a filthy Muggle.

Draco lifted Harry’s legs up and put them over his shoulders. He thought since, the warm water was still running it would be the perfect lubrication.


“Are you fine?” Draco whispered.

“Don’t be this protective. Fuck me.”

He never did get the chance as the majestic figure of Methene revealed itself. To their credit, the two wizards jumped apart instantly, Draco quivering in fear.

'Is that how you would repay your ancient line, you sad, pathetic excuse of a wizard?' asked Methene, hands going in his robes to draw a pure black wand, with ancient latin script on it.
'Don't insult my Drakey-poo,' screamed Harry, rushing for his discarded wand.

He never did get the chance to reach it, sadly. With a flick of his wand, Methene whispered an ancient spell at the pipes hidden behind the emerald tiles. The entire castle seemed to shake and twist, its innate desire to protect its inhabitants conflicting with Methene's dark spell. Alas, his will was too strong to be broken. Soon the pipes stopped giving off the warm water the filth had bathed in. Harry and Draco had discovered they could not move, an invisible barrier keeping them in place.

Initially the water got hotter. Draco begun to scream as the boiling water burned his skin, boiled his blood. Harry was even less fortunate. Due to his compromising situation, the boiling water was falling into his eyes, jammed open by the binding spell. The white orbs begun to smoke as the matter boiled, and the screams awoke an ancient demon, just-Felton, who rushed to those whose minds he had addled.

'I tire of your wailing,' said Methene, twisting his wand.

If the boiling water had caused pain before, it now seemed as a cool mountain stream as hot oil came out of the taps. The instant it touched the two's bodies it began to melt away their flesh, revealing the bone underneath. Their hair had long ago gone into flames, filling the chambers with a putrid smell.

In mere seconds the two were nothing but a pile of liquefied bones.

As Methene looked in satisfaction at the results of his labour, he turned around and strode towards the exit. A sickly looking girl, twice the normal weight for one her height, with slimy black hair, filled with scars that seemed to be unsuccessful suicide attempts burst into the room.

'No, my first story,' wailed just-Felton, 'why did you do it? Why? I said if you don't like it don't read? Couldn't you just look away?'
'You are the scourge who twisted their minds?' asked Methene. If he had seemed frightening before to the two children, now he looked as Lucifer reincarnated. Slashing his wand in a circular motion, lacerations begun to appear on just-Felton's misshapen lump of a soon to be cadaver. She begun to scream as the ripped skin twisted around itself and begun to whip her across the eyes.

'Vitalis' shouted Methene corkscrewing his wand towards the demon. A golden light shot out, forcing the body to function in its mangled state. The unholy energy maintained her life as the suffering continued.

Imitating fishing, Methene launched his wand and then drew it back. just-Felton's intestines flew over Methene landing in the pile of cooling bones. Still they were hot enough, and just-Felton's last moments amongst the living were spent smelling her own organs grilling.

'I tire of you filth,' proclaimed Methene. With a nasty looking twist he repeated the previous motion. This time, the numerous piercings that adorned the scourge's body came out flying, leaving a lake of blood in their wake.

'Avada Kedavra!' said Methene. The green light struck the lump of flesh that remained, negating the Vitalis spell. The cadaver, now free of magical energies collapsed upon itself, a pile of flesh, blood and mangled bones and tendons.

'Thus always to your kind!' proclaimed Methene, gathering his energies and Disapparating to the Olympian realm.