The Assassin

The Assassin - Chapter 5

T/W for mentions of sexual abuse, very graphic violence, and details of slicing open wrists. Please do not read if this may harm you in anyway.

Chapter 5

Birds sung their morning song as the sun slowly begun to rise above the horizon. The wind blew a gentle breeze, taking leaves and dirt captive with it. The long grass surrounding the house danced in the wind, mesmerising any onlooker. Harry watched from the table in the kitchen, the sun beginning to swallow the tree line in the far distance. A sense of serenity settled over him while the information from early this morning sunk in. Suddenly a yellow envelope was slapped down on the table in front of him. Harry simply turned his head in reaction, seeing a smirking Drew standing next to him.

“Thought this might be right up your alley,” Drew said before turning around and busying himself in the kitchen.

Harry curiously looked at his back and then down at the folder sitting before him. His inquisitive nature getting the better of him. Picking it up and tipping it upside-down, a pile of neat paper slid on to the table. The first page held a picture of the Requester’s target plus all of their personal information. His eyes roamed the page briefly, catching different intriguing words, before he decided to start reading from the start. A picture of a middle aged man staring blankly ahead at the camera, dressed in a pristine police uniform. Medals and badges pinned on him, showing off his achievements.

“Steven Riggs,” Harry murmured out loud. “Let’s see what you’ve done to seal your fate.”

Steven Riggs is a 49 year old, Caucasian male with a heritage of primarily English. Currently lives alone close to his current place of occupation. No known family relations expect for an estranged mother he has not had contact with since he was fourteen. Her name is Mary Sherlock. He has served his whole adult life in the police force, climbing up the ranks. Steven has no known medical conditions, reasonably healthy. Connection to the Magical World: None.

“Ah okay, I see now,” Harry smirked up at Drew who was approaching the table with a cup of tea and some plain toast. The cases with no connection to the magical world were his favourite ones.

“Keep reading,” Drew responded. “It gets better.”

Requester has solid evidence of Steven Riggs successfully bribing judges to benefit or worsen the court case with the use of money and illegal substances. Many of these bribes are in relation to sexual assault cases as well as drug charges. Not only has he bribed judges, but he has bribed other police officers in to silence with the use of money and illegal substances. Many of these bribes are in relation to others looking in to his suspicious behaviour or finding him in the act of stealing detained substances.

“Corrupt piece of shit,” Harry growled.

“Obviously you haven’t gotten to the juicy part, otherwise I would’ve been hearing more of a select type of vocabulary,” he said around a mouthful of toast, a cheeky grin on his face. Harry gave him an annoyed look before continuing to read on.

Requester has solid evidence of Steven Riggs sexually assaulting woman in the form of polaroid pictures. It is known that he keeps all evidence in a grey metal box, hidden behind books on the third shelf down on the bookshelf closest to the television. The Requester wants Steven Riggs to die a slow and painful death. It is requested that the assassin lay all of the photos out next to his body for police officers to find. Inside the rest of the documents are blueprints of his house, maps of the surrounding areas, the evidence the Requester has found, as well as a photo of all the target’s tattoos. The reward for a successful mission is reasonably large.

Harry sighed tiredly as he begun to peruse the rest of the documents. Like the Requester had said, there was indeed all that information for him to read through. This was more detail than most people ever went in to. He was thoroughly impressed. Half of his mind wondered who the hell this person was while the other half wondered why they just didn’t kill this guy themselves. Obviously they weren’t confident they would get away with it. Hence why Harry, Drew and the rest of the group were there for. To kill the bad people that tormented the world, to reap the rewards, and to get that sweet revenge for the victims. This case didn’t seem that hard. For the most part, half of his work had already been done. Now all he had to do was study the man’s schedule and kill him.

“Interested?” Drew’s voice brought Harry out of his thinking.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded before placing the documents down and looking out the window.

“Think of it as your last official mission before you leave for Hogwarts,” he smiled and took a sip of his drink.

“Hopefully it won’t be my last one forever,” he sighed.

“Of course it won’t,” Drew reassured him. “You’ll be able to come back on the team once this is all over.”

Harry barely registered the words, nodding his head and staring out in to the stirring world outside. For the first time in a long time, he was beginning to feel anxious over the future. Here, in this farm-styled house far away from society, he had lived the best life imaginable. He always had a roof over his head, a family to rely on, food in his stomach, and money he could call his own in his pocket. While he would have food and a roof over his head at Hogwarts, the other two were up in the air. Nothing was promised as he got ready to embark on the most riskiest mission of his life.

“There’s less than a week to my birthday which will give me ample amount of time to commit his schedule to memory,” Harry sighed as he turned his attention back to the present. “The eve of my birthday is when I’ll strike.”

“Are you sure?” Drew asked, already knowing Harry was set in his way.

“Yes. I’ve got a lot of prep for the next day with you know, getting revenge on the Dursley’s and getting ready to leave for Hogwarts and all that,” he mused with a dark, playful smile on his face.

Drew merely nodded in acknowledgement. He knew and trusted Harry enough to look after himself. Everything he had taught him over the years was finally beginning to show. All of the life lessons, work ethics, becoming a self-sustained man was all shining through the once scared young boy he took in. As he sipped his drink and watched Harry stare blankly out the window, an intense wave of proudness bubbled up in the middle of his chest.

The door to Dumbledore’s office suddenly swung open and startled the old man whom sat behind his desk reading over documentation. Order member after Order member waltzed in to the office, the space soon becoming cramped. Dumbledore looked confused at the unexpected assemble of the group. The whole atmosphere that radiated from them was anger and upset, he knew this was not going to be a very pleasant meeting. Especially considering the unannounced visit.

“Well this is unexpected. What can I do for you all?” Dumbledore tried to cover his true emotions by smiling and forcing a kind twinkle in his eyes.

“Some of us have problems with the way things are being handled,” Minerva spoke up as she stepped forward in front of the group. “We would like to talk about a few things.”

“Of course,” he politely said as he sat tall in his chair. Rage bubbling under the surface.

“Last night,” she said after a few seconds, “an alarm went off indicating we needed to be called to the Dursley’s residence under the impression they were in harm’s way by intruders. But after arriving, we found they were not.”

Dumbledore thought about what he was hearing and opened his mouth to respond. He knew this was coming. He saw the annoyance they tried to conceal the other night. He saw the looks of anger they tried to hide from him. It was only a matter of time and last night was the final straw.

“Yes, well you see,” Dumbledore stumbled over his words a little before clearing his throat. “I have put in place wards to alert us if they are in danger. Wards that generally are meant for alerting if it is a foreign person they do not know of that is causing them harm. However, sometimes the fear is so great that the wards are triggered by a case of domestic dispute within the household.”

“Are you meaning to tell us this has happened before?” Arthur said with a frown on his face.

“Only on rare occasions has this occurred,” he nodded his head slowly.

The room erupted in a fit of rage. To think they had wasted the Order’s time with this episode of domestic violence instead of resting or searching for the missing boy infuriated many of them. This was the exact scenario that they had feared would happen, especially when it was during the middle of the night. The anger at the way things were being handled, the way they were being instructed, didn’t sit well with the group anymore. They wanted change and they wanted it now.

“But I must assure you that the ward that was activated last night felt like a third party,” Dumbledore spoke loudly above the noise, trying to reign in the group. “That is why I was very surprised when we saw what had happened upon arrival.”

“While I must concur this level of domestic dispute has never occurred, the false alarm has been rung on one too many times in my honest opinion,” Severus spoke up from the side of the room, turning heads. “Many of those incidents happened while Harry Potter was in their care however, and perished since he went missing. Leaving me to believe he was left in an unfit living arrangement.”

With mouth wide open in disbelief, Dumbledore stared at his least most trusted member of staff. The bustling room quickly diminished into a shocked silenced. With cheeks turning rosy red and the twinkle leaving icy blue eyes, the Headmaster stood up slowly from his chair. The room looked on in fear as the old man walked towards them, eyes locked on Severus Snape.

“Are you doubting my judgement, Severus?” Dumbledore asked, staring daggers at the other.

“Yes,” Severus said without any hesitation.

“Have I ever once doubted you,” he went on to say, anger quickly filling up inside him. “In all of these years, have I ever once not trusted you?”

“I do not know,” Severus said truthfully after contemplating for a second.

“What do you mean?” all kindness void in his voice and eyes. “Have I took you back after your acts of betrayal? Have I not offered you a job in a world that would have shunned you? Have I not been anything but kind too you?”

The room was in completely and utter shock. While they were all acutely aware of Severus’s past and how he has tried everything to right his wrongs, they didn’t once imagine the Headmaster would try and turn that against the man. Severus averted his eyes to look out the window. Shame was looming over him like a heavy cloud. If he didn’t have such complete control over his emotions, he would have stormed off angrily. Instead he was going to passively stay for the rest of the meeting, not contributing anything more, but not let the old coot win.

“That’s what I thought,” Dumbledore said quietly with a smirk, before looking around at the others. “Now, is there any other issues so I may get back to work. There are many Hogwarts letters still to be sent.”

“I believe we will make no more headway with the way things are,” Minerva said as she looked around the tense room. “I think it’s best we all go home and rest. I can tell how tired some of you are. We can discuss this at another time.”

“Yes, perhaps a scheduled meeting next time would be better,” Dumbledore laughed, the twinkle returning once more.

One by one, the room slowly emptied. The mood amongst the Order members was one of grim defeat. They had not achieved much of what they had hoped for. Though to some, it was not surprising with the way the Headmaster had managed to deflect the topic off of himself by the end. However, what did take them by surprise was the way he was treating Severus. It was a vindictive side to him they didn’t see at all. His old age must be showing off the cracks in his many layers.

The quite streets were filled with thin, two storey houses, lined up side by side. With tiny backyards and only fences separating the land at the front and back, this was a true English styled street. It may propose a challenge for the young man sitting on the bench opposite his next victims house. The walls between each house would be rather thin, so ensuring the victim couldn’t scream was rather important. Entering and leaving the house would be rather easy with the cover of darkness on his side. The street lamps were placed vastly apart, and the moon light was rather dim in the overcast night sky. His all black clothing would also contribute to successfully hiding his appearance.

With his hood hanging low over his face, Harry continued to stay alert on the bench as he waited for Steven Riggs to come home from his shift at work. The minutes ticked by slowly, yet the young man never twitched a muscle. He trained himself to stay perfectly still to avoid drawing attention his way from any possible onlookers. His eyes moved to the left side as a car turned in to the end of the street. He watched as it slowly manoeuvred through the heavily parked traffic, before pulling up in to a spare spot not far from the target’s house.

The noisy engine was shut off and silence engulfed the street once more. A second later, the door swung open and out came a tall male, dressed in a pristine uniform. He knew instantly this was his target; Steven Riggs. The male stretched his tired body before grabbing his briefcase and coat from the back seat. Harry watched intently as the target begun to finally walk towards his home, taking his sweet arse time. Steven tiredly locked his car over his shoulder as he fumbled with his keys at his front door.

The door was opened finally and the man stumbled blindly inside the completely dark house until he reached the light switch. Harry immediately stood up from his spot, walking across the street with his head down. He briefly paused as he saw Steven walk towards the open front door to close it. Shaking his head slightly, he watched the man yawn before lazily shutting it. Continuing to walk, he quickly makes his way to the closest window. Hugging his body to the wall, he peered in to the still dining room. Seeing no sign of Steven, Harry quickly scoped out the rest of the place from where he could see. A brightly lit kitchen was in the far back and the entrance hall to the left of the room showed the bottom of the stair case.

Harry took three long strides to reach the other window. Again, he hugged his body to the wall in case his target was suddenly to appear. He turned his head slightly and gazed upon a quiet living room. Mismatched furniture was spread out along the walls, dimly lit lighting created soft shadows, an ominous bookcase looming tall, hiding a very dark secret inside. The hairs on Harry’s arms stand straight just looking at where the hidden photos were. This was one of the sickest cases he had dealt with in quite a while. No doubt this will give him much pleasure to end this sicko’s life.

With that in mind, Harry moved towards the door, ready to execute his plan. He held his hand up and nonverbally unlocked the door. He pushed it open slowly, revealing the neatly kept entrance hall. He spotted the briefcase next to the hallstand while the coat hung on a rack not far away. Nudging the door closed with his foot, Harry intently stared upstairs where he could see a bedroom light on. He could hear Steven softly humming to himself as he changed out of his uniform. A dark smirk overcoming his facial features just anticipating the startled look he would have once noticing an intruder.

As if right on cue, Steven emerged out of his bedroom dressed in a baggy, white t-shirt and plain, grey sweatpants. He rubbed his face tiredly as he begun to descend the stairs, only to freeze as his eyes laid upon a figure standing in his house. Blinking to see if the darkly dressed figure would disappear, he shook his head in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” Steven asked after the silence continued on. “Get out of my house.”

Harry was smirking up at his target, soaking in the face of a scared man. Without saying anything, he released his wand from its holster and caught it smoothly with his hand. Feeling the adrenaline start to kick in, he focused his mind on the mission. His dark, green electric eyes stared unwavering into Steven’s worried brown eyes. The two men stood still, waiting for the best moment to make the first move. Steven briefly glanced down at the protruding wand, a look of confusion flashing across his face for only the briefest of moments. And in the next second he begun to rush down the stairs, straight towards Harry.

“Stupefy,” Harry whispered as he raised his wand, pointing it directly at Steven’s chest.

The man instantly froze, becoming unconscious in mid-step. His limp body falling forwards and tumbled down the remaining steps. Harry would have winced if he cared for the man when he heard a loud cracking sound as Steven’s face went directly into one of the steps with full force. Steven came to land awkwardly with the half of his body folded over, legs spread out in mid-air, his own crotch smashed against his unconscious, bloodied face.

Harry walked up to the man as he put away his wand once more, enjoying the sight that lay before his eyes. It was painfully obvious the victim had broken his nose on the way down, a small stream of dark, crimson blood coming out from the now crocked nose. Not wanting to touch the man more than he had to, Harry unravelled the limp body by pushing his lower half with his foot. He unconsciously scowled at having the misfortune of touching him. With Steven now laying completely flat at the foot of the stairs, Harry looked around in thought, wondering what he should do next.

Walking in to the living room, he decided to grab the photos now rather than later. At least he could avoid leaving the man unattended as to not give him a chance of escaping. Without hesitation, Harry made his way over to the bookcase closest to the television and scanned his eyes down to the third shelf. Compared to the other bookcase in this room, all of the books were close to the edge, whereas the books on the other were all pushed as far back as they could go. If Harry hadn’t know what was hiding behind all of these books, he would have probably inspected it out of curiosity.

His stomach begun to churn as he reached forward, blindly feeling behind the books for the metal box. His fingers graced over a cold surface, signifying he had in fact found what he was looking for. Carefully pulling out the item, his eyes laid upon a dull grey box with a small, metal lock on it. He inspected the outside of the box to find nothing giving away the horror that laid within. Not wasting anymore time, Harry walked back over to the semi-unconscious male sprawled out on the ground.

As Harry once again stood over Steven, the other slowly begun to regain some consciousness. His eyes opened and closed, adjusting to the harsh lighting after the fall. He begun to moan and mumble, trying to find his voice once more. Wiggling his fingers and toes, Steven tried to fight through the heavily fog clouding his mind to figure out where he currently was. Harry continued to smirk down at the other, a large amount of satisfaction bubbling in his chest. Lifting his hand, he faced his palm directly at Steven.

He casted a nonverbal ′Incarcerous′ just as Steven begun to look around at his surroundings. Thin ropes shot from his palm and coiled tightly around the lean body, rendering him completely immobile. Fear and panic set in on Steven’s face, trying his best to escape from the confinements he found himself in. He looked up at the stranger that stood in his house, his face clouded in darkness from the hood he wore. He tried to soak up as much of this person as he could, committing details to memory in the case that he survived this home invasion. That’s when he noticed the grey, metal box the person held in his hand.

“How did you get that?” Steven managed to rasp out, letting his head rest on the ground and staring at the celling in defeat.

“This old thing?” Harry darkly laughed as he gracefully squatted down next to the other’s head. “Why I was told to come and get it.”

“By who?” he frowned as he rolled his head to the side slightly, able to see the lower half of the face now.

“That is for me to know,” he smirked darkly, sending shivers down Steven’s body, “and for you to never find out.”

Steven stared up at the stranger in bewilderment. The voice sounded so young, yet very menacing. The darkness that seeped off of him was clearly a well-built aura, formed over many years. It made him shiver just thinking of all the other heinous crimes he might have committed while still being so young. He seemed so comfortable and confident in what he was doing, eerily so. Every move he made was precise, almost as if he had planned out every moment in a detailed plan.

“What do you want from me,” Steven asked in a tired voice, resigned to the situation already.

“I do not want anything from you,” Harry smirked. “However, there is someone out there that wants one thing from you.”

Without hesitation, Harry held up both his hands in front of him. Nonverbally opening the metal lock with an ′Alohomora’, much to the dismay and shock of Steven. Harry pulled off the lock and discarded it to the side, smirking the whole time at the stunned expression stuck firmly on his victim’s face.

“H-How did you do that?” Steven’s wide eyes watched in confusion.

Completing ignoring the man, Harry carefully opened the grey lid, his eyes laying upon dozens of polaroid pictures that made him sick to the bottom of his gut. He flicked his eyes over to Steven as the man groaned in embarrassment, gulping hard in an effort to fight back the fowl words wanting to spill out.

“Now, what do we have here?” Harry hummed, sorting through some of the pictures. “Well, I can’t say I am surprised. I knew what I would find in here.”

“Just take them and leave me alone,” he tried to beg. “Please, I just want to go to bed. I don’t care what you do with them.”

Tsking his tongue, Harry stood up and begun to slowly pace around his tied up victim. Watching the older squirm as his very presence made him feel uncomfortable. He took out a few photos and let them fall down to rest beside his head, Steven watching them in half curiosity and half fear. Harry walked to the other side and took out a few more photos, letting them fall once more.

“No, no, no,” Harry hummed in disappointment. “No that won’t do at all.”

Harry squatted down where he stood, placing the grey, metal box to the side before placing his hands either side of Steven’s head and leaning forwards. He leant right in, too close for the other’s comfort as he turned his head away from the invasive action. He let his warm breath graze over his victim’s skin, watching in satisfaction as the other squirmed away from him.

“No,” Harry seductively whispered. “No I won’t take them and leave. The world must know what you did. You must pay the price for your actions.”

“What’s my price?” Steven asked with a heavy gulp, dreading the answer.

“Your life,” he whispered lowly before immediately pushing away from his victim.

“No,” he begged in a cry, a blush appearing on his cheeks at the ungodly sound that just escaped him. “No, please. I’ll do anything. Just let me live.”

Harry’s deep laughed reverberated around the rather empty entrance hallway. He shook his head in amusement as his ears were filled with the sweet sounds of continuous begs of salvation. Wanting to toy with the man some more, he grabbed his Blackhawk Tatang knife out of its sheath, resting the tip of the knife on his pointer finger and swirling it around. Steven groaned once more, wiggling desperately around to attempt to free himself from the ropes.

“Now, I’ll tell you what will happen next,” Harry spoke up as he was pacing backwards and forwards at Steven’s feet. “I don’t normally tell my victims this, but considering it’ll be my last mission for a while, why not tell you your fate.”

Laughing darkly as Steven’s face sunk, a mixture of horror and desperation overtaking his facial features. Harry pointed his knife downwards, lining up with his victim’s chest. He stopped pacing as he stood slightly to the left of him.

“Firstly I will ensure no one can hear you scream as what I’ll be doing will be very, very painful,” he continued on as if it was a normal everyday conversation. “Next, I’ll start slicing and dicing. I’ll make sure I get creative, don’t you worry my kind sir. Lastly, once you have gone to sleep like you wanted, I’ll lay out all of these photos around you so whoever finds you first understands why this happened. Your disgusting secret will be shared with the world. Your name will forever be tarnished. All you worked for in your career will be stripped.”

As Harry finished talking, he walked back over to Steven’s head and squatted down beside him. He crushed one of the photos with his boot on purpose, symbolising how the predator was about to become the victim. He watched as a stray tear ran down the blemished cheek and down to the floor. Part of him wanted to mess with the other by wiping it away for him. He reached forward, seeing the other wince at his approach, and with the tip of his knife, he wiped the stray tear away. Making sure to get up close and personal with his eye.

“Please,” Steven tried to beg one last time, his voice weak and body tired.

Instead of responding, Harry merely stood up and allowed his wand to slip down into his hand once more. He pointed his wand down at Steven, watching the intense fear ignite in his eyes. Harry took a deep breath before moving his wand smoothly in the correct motion. He focused on casting the very difficult spell ′Silencio′ nonverbally. Mustering all his magic since he would have time to recover before leaving.

Steven felt a tingling sensation engulf his entire body. Wondering what had just happened to him, he opened his mouth to ask. Yet he found his vocal cords wouldn’t work. He attempted to speak after another second, hoping it was just fatigue. Nothing. Nothing came out of his throat. He tried to hum, to clear his throat, to shout, to yell. He started hyperventilating. What had happened? What had this young man done to him? His world spun as he watched the other lean over and trail the tip of his knife along the exposed skin on his foot.

“Where should we start, hmmm?” Harry asked, knowing full well that he’ll get no response. “Maybe here?”

Moving the tip of the knife, he dragged it up along Steven’s left leg, running over the thin ropes holding him in place. He came to a stop right next to his pelvis, sweat pouring down his victim’s face as he saw where the knife was. Harry smirked before retracting the knife and watching the wide brown eyes.

“How about we save that for last,” he smirked as he stood up and walked closer to his top half.

Harry watched Steven squirm as he moved to stand over him, one leg either side of his torso. He knelt down and sat firmly on the man’s stomach. He could feel the panicked breathing underneath him, see the uncomfortableness on his face. Harry smirked as he slowly leant forwards, sliding his hands up his chest and over the tight ropes. Pausing briefly, he adjusted his grip on his knife before he moved the rope to bunch up on his shoulders as well as down towards his stomach, leaving space for his chest to be exposed. With the tip of his Tatang knife, he gripped the white t-shirt and tore it open vertically. He revealed the pale white chest after ripping the shirt some more.

Dragging the cold, metal knife along the hairless chest, he watched as goosebumps rose. He ran it along the skin, inching closer and closer to the exposed right nipple. Smirking, he tapped the semi-hard nipple with his knife, watching it get even harder. Steven wiggled beneath him, trying his best to get away from the knife. He was shouting words at Harry, banging his head backwards in frustration.

“Excited are we?” Harry teased, tapping the other nipple brutally as to not leave it out of the fun.

Steven violent shook his head in denial making Harry let out a roaring laugh. He continued torturing him for a few more seconds before he frowned and tilted his head, deep in thought about what he wanted to be carved into Steven’s chest. It couldn’t be too long, or too short. It needed to fit him, needed to describe the type of person he was. Perhaps predator will do? Or leech. Maybe even deadbeat. Parasite might suit him. Harry thought some more, none of them sitting right with him. Then the perfect word came to mind. Scum. Yes, that wasn’t too short or long, and described Steven absolutely perfectly.

Dragging the knife to the left of the chest, Harry poised the tip with ample amount of pressure while pushing down Steven’s shoulder with his left hand. Keeping him still seemed to be an issue, the bastard was constantly wriggling around. He didn’t want his work to come out messy, yet he really needed to get a move on. Without further delay, he pushed the knife down enough to slightly pierce the firm skin. Blood pooled around the black, metal blade, moving in different directions with the thrashing from Steven. Harry tried to keep the man as still as he could as he begun moving the knife to form the first letter. The look of pure agony on his face only cheered him on, making the slightly messy letter worth it. This mother fucker deserved all the pain in the world.

One letter at a time, Harry slow etched the word scum into Steven’s chest. Blood seeping out, rolling down his sides in rivers. Oh how Harry wished he could hear the screams, how he wished he could show all of Steven’s victims the memory to know he suffered just as much as they did. Before he could even finished carving out the ‘m’, his victim passed out presumably from the pain. Rolling his eyes in slight annoyance, Harry peacefully completed his masterpiece. He didn’t know how long Steven would be out for, so he decided to do the tricky spot on him that he wanted to tarnish.

Shuffling up ever so slightly and being mindful of not getting blood on himself, Harry firmly held Steven’s face in his left hand. Not even hesitating, he sank the bloodied knife into the left cheek and sliced it apart. Creating line after line, blemish after blemish, justice after justice for each victim. The face he held between his hand slowly become unrecognisable. Covered in blood, bruised, and torn open for all to see, this was the fate he had sealed long ago.

Harry stood up from where he knelt, slightly stretching his aching muscles. He looked down from where he stood and admired the work he had done thus far. There was not much more work he needed to do before he could clean up and leave. Majority of his plan had gone accordingly, very satisfied with the results, but he was still looking forward to the next part the most. What’s one thing a male predator wants/needs to abuse others? A full functioning penis. Frankly Harry thought this man didn’t deserve to have one. He was going to correct that, and painfully so, unfortunately for Steven and fortunately for the rest of mankind.

Finally, his victim started to come around back to reality. It was almost as if he had forgotten where he was as he looked around for a few moments in utter confusion. Well, as much as his facial features could convey that now. Steven started frantically wiggling around, trying his best to loosen the ropes around him. Yet his efforts turned out futile. He simply stared up at the man looming above him, hoping whatever was next would end him there and then.

“Welcome back,” Harry chuckled as he took a few steps backwards, with legs still either side of Steven. “I’m glad you are joining me for this next part. We are going to have so much fun.”

Harry knelt down yet again. This time he straddled his upper thighs with the most devilish smile on his face. He reached up and moved the ropes away from the vicinity he needed to get to; the pelvic area. Harry traced his knife down the left hip bone, then the right, relishing in the desperate writhing beneath him. He brushed over the slightly bump in the grey pants, watching his chest rise and fall hurried motions. The torture continuing on for as long as he pleased, knowing it’ll all be over soon enough. Pulling down the grey sweatpants, Harry was disgusted at the sight that lay before his eyes. The most despicable, ugly looking, below average sized penis stared back at him.

“Disgusting,” Harry pretend to gag, instantly smirking as Steven looked devastated and embarrassed.

Not wanting to touch the horrendous piece of flesh more than he had to, he lifted up the limp penis with the blade of his knife. He tucked the grey sweatpants underneath the penis to keep them out of the way, giving him full access to the member without disruption. Staring at it for one more moment, Harry chuckled out loud as he thought of how this was the ugliest penis he had ever seen in his life. He studied it, tilting his head, deciding which direction he would start cutting from. He needed to ensure that Steven had an amazing view of the show. Mind made up, Harry harshly gripped on to the penis, tugging it upwards. Harry made sure his victim was looking before he started.

Fearful eyes looked upon his pride and joy, knowing what was about to take place. The bloodied blade of the knife inched closer and closer to the base of his penis, anticipation thick in the air as it seemingly moved in slow motion. The warm surface finally made contact with his delicate skin. He gulped down the heavy amount of saliva in his mouth. A searing pain like he had never felt before started burning as the knife was pushed forwards and backwards in a slicing motion. Steven wanted his screams to so desperately be heard. He wanted someone to come to his rescue and end it all. Wanted this moment to finish as quickly as it started.

Harry smirked as he continued to saw off the offending member, grunting slightly with all the thick parts. Blood spurted everywhere, his hands, the floor, as well as soaked into both of their clothes. As each second ensured, Steven became more and more restless. He was arching his back, bucking his hips, kicking his hips, thrashing side to side, all in an attempt to make it stop. It was making Harry’s job harder, however, knowing the pain his victim would have been experiencing made it bearable. He assumed it wouldn’t be much longer until he passed out from the pain once more.

Grunting and applying extra pressure, Harry managed to successfully sever and decapitate the entire penis from its owner. He held the member up in the air, blood still dripping from it, and held it for the both of them to see. He inspected the cut and was quite impressed with his skills; it was a rather clean slice considering other factors such as uncontrollable movements. He lowered the penis only to notice Steven was one again unconscious. The shock of seeing his penis removed must have pushed him over the edge this time rather than the pain. He simply discarded the penis to lay vertical on the pelvic area before standing up.

There wasn’t much more to do. He had caused as much damage as he could to his victim, he had tortured him both physically and psychologically to a suitable amount. All he needed to do to complete his mission was ensure a slow death. He tapped the tip of his Blackhawk Tatang knife on his left hand palm as he thought. Knowing the anatomy of a male, cutting of the penis would not cause enough blood lost to kill Steven. Neither would all the cuts and wounds he had inflicted elsewhere. No, he needed to make another cut somewhere else near a major artery. Perhaps the wrists would do. If he made a deep cut on each inner forearm, he could ensure enough blood loss to kill the man.

Nodding in satisfaction with his new plan, Harry leant down to roughly grabbed Steven’s right arm. He barely managed to rotate it enough in the tight grasp of the ropes. He placed the tip of the blade halfway up the forearm before digging it in and easily slicing a deep cut into the skin. Massive amounts of blood immediately poured out from the cut, seeping on to the floor and staining it a deep crimson colour. Knowing he was almost done, Harry swiftly repeated the same action on the left forearm. He stood up and wiped the slight sweat away from his forehead.

Stepping back and placing his knife back into its sheath, Harry took in all of his work as a whole. Satisfaction bubbled below the surface, hoping this was more than enough for the Requester. Keen to go home and shower, Harry hurriedly grabbed the grey metal box that had long been discarded. He spread out the pictures around Steven’s head and limp body. Even laying a few beneath the word carved into his chest and one upon the exposed base of his penis, blood quickly soaking the edges. Discarding the box to the side, Harry sighed as he got ready to leave.

“Wait,” a small croak alerted him to the semi-conscious Steven laying tiredly still. “Please, don’t go.”

“Silencio,” Harry said with a frown on his face, not expecting the spell to have worn off so soon.

The spell didn’t take as much energy as beforehand since he said it verbally, taking some strain off of his magical core. Harry watched as Steven tried to talk once more before stray tears slipped down his blemished face. An understanding dawned upon the victim that he was going to soon slip away to never breathe again. Resignation filled his eyes as he turned his head away from his torturer, not wanting him to be the last thing he saw. Instead choosing to look at one of the many polaroid picture sprawled out beside him.

Harry quickly patted down his body, ensuring he had every piece of equipment with him before he left. He turned and opened the door with a nonverbal ′Alohomora’, using his shoe to close the door behind him. Not looking back, he continued walking away from the house, heading directly to the bench he had previously been sitting on. He sat down and in the quiet of the night, begun removing all traces that he had even been in or near that house. He removed his DNA that had been spread everywhere, off of items as well as Steven’s body. He concentrated on erasing any footprints that may have been ingrained into the carpet or anywhere near the crime scene. Lastly, he recalled his magical residue. The process taking a little longer since he had performed more magic here.

Satisfied he was completely annihilated from the crime scene and surrounding area, Harry stood up and begun to walk down the cold, empty, dark street. With each step he took, he felt even more so grateful that this was his last mission. He couldn’t think of a better way to pause his career on. And with that came the reminder that in two nights time, he would be heading off to the Dursley’s and then to Hogwarts. Embarking on a new mission, one to save the world, one to save many lives. Rounding the corner, Harry closed his eyes tiredly as he concentrated on apparating.

The environment around him changed. He was no longer outside in the cold, but rather inside a warm house filled with soft sounds of laughter and chatter. He opened his eyes and looked to his right to find most of the household occupants gathered in the lounge room and kitchen. Pulling his hood down for the first time in hours, Harry stared tiredly at the onlookers. Grayson stood up from his spot on the couch, his mouth hanging open in shock at the state that Harry was in.

“Bloody hell mate,” Grayson said in amazement. “Quite literally bloody.”

“Not really in the mood, Gray,” Harry let out a massive yawn as he stretched his arms above his head.

Harry turned his head as Drew descended the stairs, watching as the older looked him up and down in amusement. Drew came down to stand directly in front of the shorter, inspecting him for any signs of injury. Thus finding nothing and deducting it was all simply the target’s blood.

“Had fun, did we?” Drew asked in his low, thick, Scottish accent.

“It was quite splendid,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Let me shower first. Then I’ll come up and give you a report.”

Drew shook his head as he walked in to the kitchen, nodding to the people that acknowledged his presence. He lent down in to the fridge, seeking his meal he had put aside.

“Don’t bother giving me a report until you’ve had dinner,” Drew said loudly, causing everyone in the room to chuckle.

With a blush on his face, Harry simply turned and headed up to his bedroom. Drew always found a way to embarrass him whether intentional or not. He closed the door to his bathroom and immediately started to strip down his equipment and blood soaked clothes. Turning on the taps, he waited for the water system to warm up by thoroughly checking over his body with the aid of the mirror above the sink. He sighed in contention once he found no grazes on himself, or bruises that would develop. He couldn’t wait, however, to rid himself of the slightly dried blood forming on his face, neck, arms and hands. Dreading having to clean down his equipment and fearing he might have to chuck his clothes away as he stood under the refreshingly warm stream of water.

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