That's right, ladies and gentlemen. The time is upon us once again. That time we all wait for, perhaps more so than even Christmas! The time when ginger blood flows free like rivers.

Now begins the Second Annual Ginny Kill-off.

The rules are short and sweet.

There must be a graphic death scene.
There must be humor in it.
It cannot exceed 2500 words.

But most important of all, the ginger blood must flow! Ginny Must die.

 

A different take on pushing Ron out of the picture for H/Hr

A strange ripping sound and the feeling of fresh air.

All of a sudden he was free. Freer then he had ever been, standing tall and proud.

A strange warm and pleasant sensation filled his being as he relaxed and let it wash over him.

All of a sudden something sharp nipped at him causing him to react on instinct and thrust forward.

Harry awoke to a strange sensation on his cock. Looking down, he gaped at the sight of Hermione's face impaled on his prick, her eyes rolled back into her head as saliva dripped from her full mouth. She was dead.

Harry was shocked at the strange turn of events, thoughts rushing around in his mind as he became very much awake, wondering what on earth had happened, absently wanting to return to his former slumber.

Craning his neck in the slightest he saw a faint stain of blood on the back of Hermione's head.

Slowly removing himself, he had to restrain a moan as the bushy haired’s tongue relaxed and curled around his member

Jerking violently at the sensation, Harry gave a sudden thrust, experiencing a feeling similar to that he had experienced when he took that little French Veela’s cherry.

Harry began to thrust himself deeper and deeper into the warm abyss, pushing himself to reach climax.

He watched with little interest as little spurts of blood began to sprayed from the back of Hermione’s head, staining the bushy brown hair, still taunting her in her eternal rest

Harry moaned in pleasure as he broke the back wall of the beaver-tooth corpse's skull, shooting his load with the one final thrust. With dead accuracy, it found its target, the lanky red-head teenager now standing open mouthed at the door.

Harry froze, in mid thrust, watching with wide eyes as his seed dripped from the bespeckled nose of his best-friend. Coming to his senses, Harry found the ability utter two words.

"Oh shit."

Harry slowly looked down, trying to remove himself from the bloody corpse before him until he noticed a fleck of red among the sea of brown hair.

Stumbling backwards instinctively, Harry flung his arms backwards to hold himself up and to avoid hitting the bed head. His left arm came down upon a pillow, causing him to loose his balance, whilst his right hand was slapped across a foreign object to this immediate right, pulling out numerous strangely familiar brown hairs in the process

Hermione awoke with a playful pout and began to scold Harry for his misdeeds, until that is, she noticed the pieces of flesh, splatters of blood and tufts of red hair tarnishing Harry’s chest. Looking down she spotted the mangled and deformed corpse of Ginny Weasley with a sizable hole in the back of her skull.

Suddenly sitting up, Hermione noticed the third living presence in the room, Ron, standing at the door with what appeared to be skeet dripping from his nose into his mouth, open wide in shock.

“Now that’s some fucked up shit right there.” Hermione quietly said to her self as she reached down for her bra, seemingly haphazardly dumped on the floor next to Harry’s bed.

"What the fuck do you want?" Hermione grumbled as she calmly stood, walked across the room and closed the door in the drenched boy's face.

Picking up her wand from the bed side table, Hermione pointed it at the bloody mess and clearly stated "Evanesco", resulting in the bloody foul corpse to disintegrate and disappear from existence. Swishing her wand for a second time stating "Scourgify", the bed and Harry were cleaned, all evidence of the scourge which had infected them removed in the process.

"Well that's that." she said with a shrug. "I was looking forward to a little fun in the morning, unless your still good to go?" She asked inquisitively, once again discarding her bra and advancing upon Harry, placing her wand back where it had once been on the bedside table.

'Fuck this day can't get any better can it?' Harry thought to himself as he dedicated himself to a similar task of which he had just indulged in, now free of any emotional or physical restraints which had previously impacted so very slightly his life.


Written by OneEyedMan, aka MurToN with the initial assistance of DarkSyaoran

I hoped you enjoyed that as much as Merril, Syao and I did.

 

...H-Her-Hermione!?

 

My unbelievably lame contribution:

It was approaching midnight when the party in the Gryffindor common finally began to die down. They'd been celebrating Harry catching a small golden ball for at least 6 hours, and frankly, there isn't much you can do to celebrate that, especially within a school. It was a pretty lame party, but as with all lame parties, people hang around simply because they don't want to go to be the first to go to bed.

It was Hermione that came to the rescue.

"Hey guys, I might be off to bed. I've got an early morning Transfiguration class tomorrow."

The moment she stood up, the rest of the common room jumped up to join her, clamouring with agreement and commending her good sense. After a short stampede for the stairs, the common room was left empty.

Empty but for two people, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley.

On Harry's part, he simply couldn't be arsed to get up, and was considering rolling onto the floor as a reasonable way to get off the comfortable armchair he was sitting in.

For Ginny though, this was the moment she had been waiting for.

"Hey Harry," she said as she slid along the couch next to Harry's chair, towards Harry. No doubt she thought she was amazingly sexy and seductive.

At length, Harry opened his eyes to look at Ginny.

"Fuck you, bitch"

Ginny looked very hurt, but Harry didn't stop there. With a speed that belied his drowsy state, Harry jumped up from his chair and grabbed hold of Ginny's arm, dragging her off the couch and onto the cold stone floor.

"Ow! Harry, what the fu-"

Ginny never got to finish her statement though. Still holding her arm, Harry pulled her kicking and screaming all the way to the fire, where he picked her up and threw here into the blazing furnace.

"Incarcerus!" Harry cried, and ropes strung themselves out of nowhere around Ginny, preventing her escape. Still, her screams were quite loud...

"Silencio!" shouted Harry again, and then for good measure, "Incendio!"

Pleased with his work, Harry turned around to go to bed.

As he passed the portrait of Godric Gryffindor, Harry paused to look at the gob smacked and shocked look on his face. Feeling the need to explain himself, Harry said,

"I did it for the lulz."

And then he walked off to bed, as if that explained everything.

Which it did.

The End.

 

For the lulz, my friend, for the lulz.

 

LOL! I couldn't stop laughing with that one. Nice, Taure.

 

For shins and grits:



“Ah yes! Yes Bill!” Fleur shouted, managing to maintain a throaty purr even in the midst of passion. Bill did not respond, save for a load unintelligible grunt. He was blissfully happy – for three months he had attempted to seduce Fleur into his bed, only to be rebuffed, the French part-veela caliming that she would wait until her marriage bed to give away the most sacred part of her being.


Now, not two week before the marriage, Fleur had come to him, desperate to rid herself of her virginity. Bill had not hesitated to take the girl, reveling in her tightness. She was, he idly thought, remarkably talented for a woman of purity – perhaps it was another veela advantage?

Together, they came with a roar, lying on the bed in post sex euphoria. Minutes later, Bill opened his eyes, turning towards his wife-to-be. Immediately his face blanched, and seconds later the girl was covered in chunder as Bill purged the contents of his stomach.

For where had once been a beautiful blonde French sex kitten now lay a skinny red faced mutt of a girl – Ginerva Weasley.

It didn’t help she was his sister.

Bill’s mouth simply hung open, before minutes later he finally managed to speak.
“Ginny…just…what fuck is this.”

“I’m sorry Bill but…I’ve already slept with half my school, but I’ve never slept with a brother…I wanted you to be my first.” She stated as if reading a textbook.


It was obvious that Bill had not entirely moved his insides, as another spew of vomit landed on the bespattered girl, though she made no move to avoid it.

“You’re disgusting Ginny, I can’t…I can’t even look at you” Bill whispered. As he reached for his trousers, he heard the door creak, and to his horror turned around to see Fleur – the real one.

“William! J’ai une supr…” Fleur gasped, taking in the scene in front of her and dropping the tray of massage oils she had been carrying. Blanching further, she managed to squeak, “Bill, c’est…with your sister…” Fleur paused, focusing on the words. “Tu es…you are …disgusting! I am not going to marry a… un con comme vous. Et avec elle! Votre soeur!”

Bill, rather unfortunately only had half a gene pool to work with given the…close nature of his parents, and thus was capable of only one response. “No Fleur please…I thought she was you!”

Fleur’s eyes flashed dangerously, her body sprouting feathers and her face turning into a gruesome blend of human and avian features. Horror filled the eyes of the two Weasly’s as Fleur conjured a fireball and hurled it towards him. The two jumped, though the bed scorched and ruined.

Fireball after fireball came towards the two, crouched in their near nakedness in a back corner of the bedroom. Fleur showed no signs of her rage abetting, and the cornered pair were now entrapped in a circle of fire.

Fleur grinned, a wicked mockery of a smile disrupted by her semi-formed beak. Without hesitation, she hurled a fireball towards Ginny. Bill, despite everything, proved to forever be chivalrous, jumping in front of the weeping girl and dying in an agony of fire, his charred remains thrashing in Ginny’s lap.

“Did you think it was funny?” Fleur hissed. “Did you think you were clever, stealing Phlegm’s fiancée. Well, he is yours now, non?” A moment later, Fleur had grabbed Ginny by the neck, allowing the fire to grow from her fingers, scorching the girl’s neck.

Ginny screamed, begging the fates that someone, anyone within Grimmauld would hear her desperate pleas. No such luck, as her neck screamed with the pain Fleur was inflicting. Her back was simultaneously being flayed, Fleur’s nails digging deeply across the tight skin, creating trails of blood.

Her screams quickly died out as her neck became far to charred to continue such activity – her breathing reduced to shallow, painful gasps. Just before she lost the ability completely, Fleur grabbed her scalp, burning off her hair and destroying her scalp, before clutching the sides of her face and quickly, mercifully even, snapping her neck.

Fleur looked around at the carnage around her. She could not remain in England was her first thought. Only moments later did she realize what she had truly happened, and a sob escaped her throat. It was not right that one as beautiful as she should be thrown away as such…and for Bill to claim she that the little strumpet was her… how awful!

And so she fled the room, not pausing to pick up anything she may have left behind. In France, she had hundreds of pretty trinkets and fine clothes, no need for the shabby lot she had been forced to wear by the Weasley matriarch. No need at all. Without a look behind, Fleur left Grimmauld Place for the last time.

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, before succumbing to a raucous round of laughter. He had not anticipated Fleur’s arrival, but the situation could not have ended more perfectly…almost. Bad enough that whore amorentia’d me out of my virginity…her death was shorter than I would have liked…pity.

Taking off his invisibility cloak, Harry walked over to the charred remains of Ginny Weasley, removing any traces of the Imperious Curse…little late for that though. Taking a moment to spit on the body, Harry left the room, a mad grin upon his face. Arthur Weasley owed him a life debt from fifth year – he could be made to confess for the crime.

That thought led to an even more pleasing scenario, that such an act may very well indebt Fleur to him as well. One can only hope.

 

I saw the Kill-off challenge, and tried for a response. Pity I just don't have the gift to insert humour into insanity. My Insane!Harry always comes out Hannibal Lecter.

Still, I tried. It's short, and does kill her off.

******************

The ritual had been easier than I thought.

I rose from the floor, naked, the crusted blood on my skin stretching and cracking. The runes flared in the darkness, luminous, violent swirls of colour to my eye. The bloodcircle was gone from the floor, wiped away by the flaring power that filled me. I closed my eyes and breathed.

Everything seemed sharper, like the reality was balanced on the edge of a blade. I could see, could feel, could taste every stone, every pebble, every little nook and crag in the cavern. I could smell blood that I’d spilled, the still warm body of the unicorn.
I could smell her hair.

I opened my eyes and searched.

She came out from the flickering shadows, her face a mixture of fear and uncertainty. “What were you doing, Harry?” She asked, her voice laced with indignation and terror. The little bitch, judging me after all that I’ve done. Not leaving her to rot in that Chamber must’ve been the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.

Well. Better late than never, I suppose.

“I could ask the same of you. Following me, like the little weasel you are.” I shook my head and smiled, cold, so cold. “But I suppose you should have an answer. Voldemort has powers, Ginny. Powers he’s amassed for decades. I need to catch up. So.” She eyed the cavern, the blood, the runes etched on my skin.
“A ritual of sacrifice. A short-cut, of sorts.”

“And what did you give up?” Her voice trembled, her ragged breathing honey in my ears. I bent down and whispered my secret.

“My humanity.”

The shadow in me stretched its wings.

It’s easy to drain all the blood from a body. You sever the jugular, gently so gently, then hoist the body upside down. The heart does all the work… it’s the most effective method, really. The shadow knew amazing things about the human physique, and the spells I’d found in that potions book were more than upto the task. It was providence, really. Pity she didn’t scream for long.

The blood I drank, kissing her neck. The bloodless flesh I cut up, so the Vanishing would be easier. It’s better than what young Crouch did, and I suck at transfiguration anyway.

The human body is so fragile, I thought as I looked upon the pieces of her body still left on the floor. I could almost understand Voldemort’s hate of death. To think that a wizard or witch should be so easily broken, destroyed- the ignominy of it- it is shameful. This fate will not be mine, I promised myself. The shadow concurred.

I left the cavern, not looking back. The night was cold, and the thought of the fireplace in the common room spurred my pace.

****************************************

So Canon!Harry saw a description for a ritual with some pretty nasty ingredients that could give him an edge of combat instinct and ruthlessness, and with his typical rashness attempted it. Now the ritual is done, and he's thinking, wtf... can't imagine why I saved that ginger-haired cunt from a bloody enormous Basilisk...
This sounds lame. Maybe I'll try again. *grimly* This time with some humour.
Love the fics, Taure, and vlad (especially for the Harry/Fleur anticipation... )

 

The Bitch is Going to Pay

I believe this is the day that I will remember as the one where I finally succumbed to you twisted bastards here at DLP and left myself permanantly tainted...

Here's my contribution. Enjoy, one hopes.

EDIT: I realized after posting this last night that one of the rules was humor had to be in the piece...I obviously forgot about that when writing it (one might make the argument that the writing and plot itself are laughable). My bad. Vash, or one of the other mods should remove it if its messing up the intended vibe of this thread. Sorry.

********​

Standing over the body of the last Death Eater you killed you stare at your still pointing wand. Your hands are shaking and your wand is covered in blood. It seems like you should be afraid. You can feel the contents in your stomach churning, you’re covered in a cold sweat, but somehow none of these physical reactions are registering with your brain.

“That bitch is going to pay.” You say out loud.

You look around for her, but she’s not there – only people fighting and dying. Students cower in corners and teachers frantically battle around them trying to prevent the invading Death Eaters from causing anymore harm.

There’s Seamus… He’s yelling at you, but you can’t hear him. Suddenly another Death Eater turns the corner and he’s locked onto the two of you. You don’t think, your arm reacts and your lips form the words of another killing curse. Seamus ducks before the spell can hit him and the Death Eater’s eyes go wide with disbelief just before he’s struck dead by the spell. The look remains frozen on his lifeless face as his body falls to the ground.

The look in Seamus’ eyes when they meet yours are the same as the dead ones behind the white mask – utter disbelief.

You smile.

“That bitch is going to pay.” You say to him.

You don’t know why you can’t stop thinking about her. The entire castle is being attacked. Voldemort is literally standing just outside those great wooden doors, and in all likelihood these are going to be the last moments of your life. But here you are and the only thing you want is to end that bitch-ass, whore’s life.

She said that she thought she loved you. She said that no matter what “he” did it didn’t matter anymore. She was over him, she wasn’t using you to make him jealous, she just wanted to move on, and you were the reason that she could.

Well she’s a lying bitch and she is going to pay.

Seamus is talking to you again. What does he want? More importantly, why can’t you hear him? “I don’t know what your saying mate,” you say. “I can’t hear you and now’s really not the time. Point your wand at anything in a white mask and kill it!”

You shove past him and take off in a run down the hall. Suddenly you remember Daphne Greeengrass. She wasn’t wearing a mask, but that bitch did try to kill you. You turn back to your friend and yell, “Oh yeah, and kill anything that looks like a Slytherin too!”

He just stares back at you dumbly. You don’t think he’s going to live through this.

The scene in Hogwarts’ Great Hall is just as gory as the rest of the castle. A group of younger students see you enter and run to you with pleading, fearful looks in their eyes. You can’t hear them either. After all that running all you can hear is the sound of your heart banging against your chest.

The kids are pointing behind you and one of them is pulling as hard as he can on the hem of your robes. You knock him off and then turn around just in time to see a Death Eater charging in on you. You tell your feet to move and your arm to react; they don’t. The next thing you see is this bastard’s big paw hitting you like an anvil across the face.

The world flashes white for a second, then clears up enough for you to see the world flying past you in reverse. Something else bigger and harder hits you from behind and another flash of white leaves you blind.

Bump, bump. Bump, bump. Bump, bump. The cadence of not quite dead yet.

The sounds of the world coming rushing back at you and immediately you want them to go away. There’s screaming, and explosions, and moans of pain and anguish. But now you can’t see anything. It’s some kind of fucked up that at the end of your life you have to keep trading off absentee senses.

“Get up! Please get up! You have to help us!”

Those fucking brats again.

“Open your eyes! Please, you can’t be dead.”

You open your eyes and the horrible world greets you once more. You feel like a dumbass and suddenly agree that you always liked those kids.

“You’re alive!” the kid says. “He’s alive! I told you he was alive!”

“That Deaf Eater is coming back.” The kid behind him screams.

You tell your arm to raise and this time it complies. Another killing curse, and just like that there are four more sets of disbelieving eyes to stare at you. One set comes to you from behind a white mask, and are recently deceased.

“That’s the bad curse.” The kid says, crying.

“That bitch is going to pay!” You reply.

The kids promptly go away after that.

You go to get up, but apparently the collision with the wall has given your brain the opportunity to reboot. Now the shaking hands, and churning stomach, and fractured skull, and magical exhaustion all come flooding in at you. “Maybe that bitch isn’t going to pay after all.”

Doesn’t it just make sense that as soon as you resign yourself to giving up you see the red headed harlot? You push your head off of the wall as she disappears out of sight behind a group of wizards and it feels like someone is shoving broken glass through the back of your neck. You’d scream but that would make it hurt worse.

That’s when the amazing thing known as man’s ability to rationalize insanity kicks in. You didn’t come this far for nothing. Today you became a murderer. Today you realized that life is much shorter than you ever imagined. And today you decided was the day that that bitch was going to pay.

It’s irrationality that provides you strength to push through the pain and get your broken body off its ass.

You see her and she sees you. Her eyes are mortified and instantly you know she knows. But then why is she running towards you?

She arrives faster than you thought she could. “Dean! Oh god, Dean look at you!”

Her voice triggers some sort of primeval response and just like that you can’t hear or feel anything once more. You stare at her staring at you and everything goes red. You wipe at your eyes because your brain tells you there must be blood in them. But there’s nothing there, you just see red.

Just like her hair…just like the blood on your hands…

You smile and you see her frantic lips stop moving. You know exactly how it’s going to happen.

Dean. You read her lips as she mouths your name. DEAN! Her mouth repeats with emphasis. You reach out to her and grasp her gently by the back of the head. She relents at first, but eventually surrenders into the embrace.

Your senses rush back; the screaming, the excruciating pain, the chaos of massacre occurring around you and her. You only see flashes of red now, and its caused by the locks of her hair in front of your face.

“Bitch, you’re going to pay.” You say into her ear. You’re stricken by how clearly you can hear your voice over the all the commotion around you.

She tightens fiercely within your grip but you stop her from pulling away.

Slowly you raise your wand from behind her back. Your shoulder is screaming in pain from the movement. When did you hurt your shoulder you wonder. It doesn’t matter.

Your wand is pointing at the back of her head, her red head, held within your bloody red hand.

“Reducto.” You whisper.

Her body goes slack. Her hair becomes a slippery pile of mush beneath your fingers. You let her collapse unceremoniously to the floor.

The entire world turns to red once again but your brain knows better than to wipe away her blood from your eyes.

“The bitch paid.”

 

Eh... humor doesnt matter, Omagic. That was pretty cool. ++ to you.

 

I wrote this fairly quickly, but I enjoyed the entire process. To those above me, hell of a job. I assume that it's never too late to contribute to the Ginny Kill-Off; in fact, we as a community should strive to murder Ginny as often as possible, in the most original and crucial of ways.

However, that's enough rambling. Enjoy, DLP.

-Averis

His worn out trainers scratched the stone as he took a running jump up the steps from the garden and to the front of the Burrow, his wildly swung left arm casting the weather-beaten door aside. He burst into the kitchen, cloak billowing behind him as he stood at the threshold, the streaks of lightning in the distance illuminating his scarred forehead, his green eyes narrowed and face stretched taught. He gritted his teeth and, in one well-practiced motion, produced his wand from his waist, lighting its tip and starting in and across the kitchen. An owl cage swung slightly with the wind and he struck out with his left fist, the clang of the steel on the tile floor echoing loudly in the kitchen of the Burrow. A lop-sided sneer crossed the man’s features as he moved, disregarding the still rattling cage and kicking out at the scrubbed wooden table, watching as it clattered, overturned to the floor, without breaking his stride.

He knew that she was the only one home and was sure that she would come running down the staircase, her flaming red locks flying around her face, her mouth already curved up in a scowl. He had his wand cocked, prepared to send her sprawling down the misshapen steps, slicing those lying, conniving lips from her face and ripping every single solitary freckle from her body…

But when he reached the sitting room he saw naught but an oil lamp burning in the corner, playing out shadows across the walls. On a second glance he noticed the blood splattered across the floor in front of him, caked on the sagging armchair to the left, and with a morbid curiosity that crept slowly up his spine he wondered who had found her first. Anger followed that last thought and he turned his eyes to the staircase, planting his left foot on the first step and grasping the rail, slowly making his way forward. He was careful to miss the steps that creaked and, when he reached the top, he extinguished the light still glowing from his wand tip.

When he reached the first floor he stopped, listening for the slightest movement from her room, and after a moment he was rewarded with the squeak of bedsprings. He turned the corner and noticed the cracked door, light shining out onto the wooden banisters, and he reached out with a calm hand to push it further open.

From his first glimpse into the room he knew immediately that something was wrong; someone had already taken his one chance at true vengeance on the woman. Blood pounded in his forehead and he swept the door into the wall with a mighty crash before stopping in awe at the scene stretched out before him.

“What the..?”

It was gruesome in its originality: a pair of blood crusted feet were dancing a spooky sort of tap-dance at the foot of the bed; two hands with long thin fingers lay to the left of the bed clapping, while their respective thumbs wrestled on the floor between them; the legs and arms had been chopped, charred, and then frozen from the ceiling fan and spun slowly, leaking bits of skin and blood down onto the white sheets of the bed. A pair of brown eyes stared blankly at him from the headrest while a black piece of cloth was Spell-O-Taped into her mouth, and bits of hair and skull were missing from the top of her head. Surprisingly, her chest, midriff and pelvic area were the only spots untouched.

Although he had planned to do many of these things to the woman himself, the sheer surprise sent bile rising to his mouth, but he shook it away, swearing under his breath. At his last word he caught a sound to his right and swung his head wildly, locking eyes and wand with what he assumed was the culprit.

A pair of huge, green, tennis ball-sized eyes stared up at him over a long thin nose before turning away from him, looking down into the woman’s wardrobe. The small creature disappeared for a moment before returning, holding three-pairs of dress socks in various styles in his left hand and using a rag in his right to wipe the blood from his pointed ears. The creature smiled up at the man and locked eyes with him, shaking his head slowly and pointing at the corpse on the bed.

“The weasel bitch stole my favorite sock.”

The man turned his head and took a second glance at the woman’s face, noticing that the black piece of cloth stuck in her mouth was not a gag, but rather the slimy, smelly sock he had given Dobby after the ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets. With a sudden uprising of giddiness he smiled and turned his head back to the creature in time to hear it speak under its breath.

“Well, she keeps it now. The dumb bitch.”

 

Here's something I've been mulling over for the past couple of days:

--------------------

'It's been a fairly quiet night so far', Ginny mused as she walked down one of the myriad of corridors that filled the school of Hogwarts, performing one of her Prefect duties. This particular one had suits of armour lining both walls for almost thirty feet.

As she neared the end of the hallway, she heard a dull clanking from behind. She turned around, but couldn't see anything out of place. Shrugging slightly, Ginny resumed her patrol only to hear the noise again, only this time it was closer... much closer.

Thinking it must be Peeves possessing one of the suits again, the Gryffindor Prefect retraced her steps back towards what she believed to be the source of the clanking. Upon reaching her destination, she discovered nothing out of place; every single suit of armour was exactly where it should be, even that strange-looking orange one... wait, orange?

Before Ginny even knew what was happening, the orange suit of armour's right arm shot out in a vicious jab that caught the girl square in the face, shattering her nose. This was then followed quickly by it's left hand stabbing into her abdomen, piercing through the skin and muscle.

The hand then clenched tightly around the nearest section of intestine, before it viciously yanked said bowels out of her stomach cavity, uncoiling and pooling on the floor, drenching the stone in crimson liquid. The suit of armour then roughly pushed Ginny onto the floor, who was vainly trying to return her innards to their proper place, as the eye-holes in it's canine-like helmet glowed a fierce red.

Reaching behind itself, the suit of armour extracted a fairly large, and viciously sharp looking sword. Holding the sword in one hand, it slashed the blade down forcefully through the dying girl's neck, decapitating her and embedding the sword almost four inches into solid granite.

"Statement: My master will be quite pleased to know that I have performed my task perfectly. Musing: Hopefully he will let me take care of some of his other annoyances in similarly fun ways," HK-47 said to itself as it walked away from the cooling corpse, its mind creating numerous inventive ways to dispatch with all of the meatbags that have been annoying its master.

 

That was FUCKIN' awesome, pure win.

Statement: My master will be quite pleased to know that I have performed my task perfectly. Musing: Hopefully he will let me take care of some of his other annoyances in similarly fun ways," HK-47 said to itself as it walked away from the cooling corpse, its mind creating numerous inventive ways to dispatch with all of the meatbags that have been annoying its master.

The personality is perfect, I LOVE it when some one get HK-47's personality right.
(Edited because I was tired and I always make mistakes in spelling and grammer and am a bit loopy when im tired.[Is that a run on.])

 

"Severus! Seeeeveeeeruuuuus!!! Are you listening?"

He shuddered, and tried to ignore the piercing shrieks emanating from through the walls of his potion-room.

The door slammed open, and Snape winced as a bright orange head poked into his only private sanctum left.

"Darling? I think we should redecorate down here. It smells funny, and it's so dark and horrible. When the baby comes, I want a nice home for him. Possibly mauve walls?"

Snape gritted his teeth, and tried to ignore her. At the end of the battle with Voldemort, she came to him saying she was pregnant with his child. Unfortunately, paternity tests couldn't be done until after the birth, and Molly was looking rather threatening when he said they had no plans to marry.

That banshee had killed Bellatrix LeStrange, and she was one of the Dark Lord's top hench... people. He didn't want to know why her wand hand was twitching so alarmingly.

And now, despite all the affairs she was having, he couldn't get rid of her. Wizarding marriages are for life after all, unless specifically stated, and he didn't dare sneak that in, not with the red-headed tribe watching his every move. Gah! No escape. None. Even when he had taken the Dark Mark, he had his little speech all worked out for Dumbledore.

He looked down at the cauldron unhappily. She was even interfering here now!

"We could do baby blue, with a lime green trim. Oh, it'll look lovely!"
She clapped her hands together in glee.

"You know dear, you look rather... skinny..."

She giggled, "Well, I guess there's no harm in telling you now... I was never pregnant. But I lost my virginity, and no respectable man would marry a girl like that, unless he thought she was."

"You, you, you were never pregnant?"

"Well. Not as such."

Severus smiled, the insane smile of those who have seen that they can do whatever they wanted with no reason not to.

"Petrifics totalus!"

Ginny dropped to they floor, and Snape walked over to her, still grinning madly. He kicked out at her jaw, and it cracked open.

"Wait just there dearest!"

He took a ladle of the half completed potion, and poured it down her throat, ignoring the sticky green mess which spilled over her face, and massaged her neck to get it down.

She swallowed with a grimace, and he removed the curse as he walked to his notebook.

"Help! Call St. Mungo's! Please... you can't do this!"

Snape ignored her, but wrote down the symptons thoughtfully, as her flesh started to turn red and irritated, then started to peel, like an accelerated sunburn. It was going so fast that blood started to pour out of her, then bones were exposed. She screamed in pain as she was shaven down to her very core.

Through out it all, Snape wrote down everything. Then, he put his notebook back in it's usual place, poured the ruined potion away, tidied up his workbench, wrote a little note to the cleaning lady, and drank belladonna. After all, it was preferable to Azkaban.

(You can probably tell that a) I'm not the best writer, and b) I kind of lost interest near the end. Hope you enjoy it though!)

 

Ai... I cannot believe I almost missed this. This is the time every year I look forward to almost as much as the Annual Draco-Kill-Off.

-------------------------------------


Ginny pondered her options, considering every possible avenue carefully and thoroughly. The only man who had ever refused her lay in a coffin before her, surrounded by crowds of mourners. She could never forgive herself for letting Dumbledore die without going where so many men had already gone before. But the Headmaster always seemed oblivious, even when Ginny was practically throwing herself at him.

And the old man never seemed to succumb to the love potions she had successfully used on many unwilling males before. It was maddening! How could any man resist her (sometimes fairly illegal) charms? Truly, it was enough to drive a girl insane with obsession.

But it would be over a year before Ginny Weasley discovered a way to achieve her goal. Not long after Voldemort had been defeated, Ginny was sitting with Harry and their friends, listening to yet another ridiculous story Ginny was sure Harry was making up. Using a Time-Turner to save a stupid horse? Honestly.

Wait... there was something about that story.

“Harry, sweetie,” Ginny simpered in a sickening tone. “Did you say you still had that Time-Turner?”

Hermione looked at Ginny with an odd expression. “No, we returned it to McGonagall for safekeeping. It’s a very dangerous artifact. I had to attend a long tutorial before I was permitted to use it; we went over every possible permutation and risk. Then I had to pass a simply exhausting examination to ensure I hadn’t forgotten anything.”

Ron snorted. “You probably just considered all that work a bonus bit of fun.”

Hermione colored but didn’t deny it.

Ginny frowned, her not yet fully formed plan seemingly gone to waste. Unless...

“How is the Professor, anyway? Still at Hogwarts?” Ginny asked in her most casual tone. “I assume she’s helping sort things out?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, last time we talked she said something like that. Still a lot of cleanup work to be done over there. I’m supposed to stop by tomorrow to help out a bit.”

Ginny smiled with a hint of a smirk. “That sounds perfectly lovely, Harry. Maybe I’ll come around as well.”

“The more the merrier,” Harry replied with a grin.

Ginny still didn’t quite have a plan, but she knew it somehow had something to do with that Time-Turner. But how to snatch it from McGonagall? Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, haphazardly thrown over a nearby coach, caught her eye. Perfect.

The next morning Ginny awoke extremely early, ready to begin the first stage of her plan. She nicked Harry’s cloak and Floo’ed to Hogsmeade while everyone else was asleep. Ginny snuck through Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak. She eventually made her to McGonagall’s quarters, and waited.

It was almost three hours later, and Ginny had nearly fallen asleep several times, when McGonagall finally emerged into the hallway. Moving quickly, Ginny darted into the Professor’s room before the door closed. Her heart beat quickly as looked around the tidy room. Where could it be?

“Accio Time-Turner!” Nothing happened, although Ginny realized it might be charmed against summoning. She poked around the room for a little while longer, reading through random papers, pocketing several small mementos, before she stumbled across an intriguing box labeled “Albus”.

Ginny grinned triumphantly. “Finally!” She rummaged through the box, pulling out various odd trinkets and paper, before coming across a very old picture of a young Dumbledore with a man and a pretty young girl. A bit more of Ginny’s plan began to coalesce, forming something nearly feasible.

She pocketed the picture and continued her search. After a few more minutes, she pulled out a smaller box with a clock insignia. Ginny sighed happily and opened it. Success! Not only did the Time-Turner lie in the small box, but several pages of notes accompanied it.

Ginny grabbed everything and raced out of the room.

Now, Ginny had hoped to be able to read through the notes right away, but it seemed to be mostly in German, and the parts in English were far above her reading level. No matter. She had several “shortcuts” available.

----

Many days later, a disheveled Ginny collapsed in a heap in an apartment she had “acquired” from a rich classmate who didn’t want certain pictures to be shown to his parents.

“Merlin’s sweaty balls!” Ginny cursed vehemently. She was quite exhausted, but who wouldn’t be after trading sexual favors for information nearly seventy times in only two weeks. Naturally, Ginny had managed more than that in the past, but she hadn’t also been running all over Knockturn Alley trying to translate some Dark notes on time travel.

But it had all been worth it… the spell was so simple. “Spill the blood of thy kin / when warm embrace they be in / rut over their corpses with no care / and the portal shall open to thy stare”. Easy enough. Merely wait for Bill and Fleur to shag each other like they constantly did, and kill them both. That French slut… she was too good for Bill anyway.

Ginny prepared the ritual, feeling increasingly uneasy. Could she really kill her own brother? After all, in a matter of speaking, he had been her first – she had stolen a hair from him and Polyjuiced a random seventh year to look like Bill. Of course, the seventh year idiot had no idea what had happened, as he had been unconscious the entire time.

“Damn it all,” Ginny cursed to herself. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. But then, suddenly, the all too familiar sounds of gooey intimacy came from the nearby room. Ron’s room. Ginny grinned wickedly. Perfect.

“Reducto. Reducto. My, that was easy. I always was quite good at that spell.” Indeed, it had been quite simple to blast Ron and Hermione*’s heads wide open. Ron still seemed to be alive, and was moaning in what must have been horrific pain.
*If it’s Bio reading this, that’s a typo – I meant to type either “Lavender” or “Life-sized Blow-up Doll Girlfriend”.

Ginny look up, annoyed at the sound. “Oh do shut up. Lacerus.” The Slicing Curse cut through Ron’s neck easily, ceasing his struggles.

A few short hours later, Ginny was ready to complete the ritual. She had her Polyjuice potion ready to go – and the perfect plan for seducing Albus. Obviously that old picture had been of Albus and his brother, standing with Albus’s lovely girlfriend. Merely take a wayward hair from the girl, and Albus would never suspect a thing.

She incanted several dark and hideous words from the old notes, thoroughly corrupting her soul and incidentally selling the same soul to several dark powers simultaneously. But the repercussions of that wouldn’t come back until later.

She appeared nearly a century earlier, only a few short yards from a pleasant little house. Ginny crept around the area, searching for the mysterious girlfriend. It didn’t take long, as the young girl was in a nearby field, picking flowers. A quick Stunning spell later, Ginny had switched clothing with the comatose girl and plucked a hair from her head.

She heard the familiar, albeit younger sound of Dumbledore nearby and quickly swallowed her mixed Polyjuice concoction. In a matter of seconds, Ginny had metamorphosized into the more attractive form of Ariana Dumbledore. She leaned against the wall of the house and affixed her most adoring expression on her face.

An astonishingly young-looking Albus and his mysterious friend walked around the corner. Albus looked surprised and smiled happily.

“Ariana, you seem to be a fair mood this morning,” Albus said in a jovial tone.

“Well I feel wonderful now that you’ve shown up, darling!” Ginny spouted in a sugary voice.

Albus looked pleasantly surprised at his “sister’s” coherency and presence, but his friend looked extremely suspicious, frowning at the out of character behavior.

Ginny leapt forward ecstatically, embracing Albus with a firm grip. “Finally, we can be together.”

Albus looked a bit puzzled at this, but patted Ginny on the back with a comforting motion. “There, there, Ariana, I’ll always be there for you.”

Ginny knew that it was finally that moment, the moment she had committed unbelievably horrific crimes against nature and others to finally achieve. She leaned forward and kissed Albus full on the lips, writhing passionately against him with in a sickening display.

Albus reared back in alarm and pushed Ginny back. “Ariana! What’s gotten into you?”

Gellert stepped forward and spat out a spell angrily. “Revealo Incanto!” Instantly a wave of odd, shimmering energy erupted from Ginny, forcibly changing her back to her original self. Of course, Grindelwald’s particular spell was not designed to be pleasant for the individual who had changed their form, so Ginny felt the distinct sensation of having her skin ripped off.

She screamed and fell to the floor.

Albus looked from Gellert to Ginny, an astounded and horrified look on his face. “Who are you, girl, and what you have done with my sister?”

Ginny blanched. “Sister? Oops.”

This was perhaps not the wisest thing Ginny could have said, as Albus, rapidly connecting the dots as only he could, rapidly arrived at nearly the correct conclusion. A fierce, angry look thundered onto Albus’ face. Ginny, who had never seen the older Dumbledore ever this mad, was frightened out of her mind. She crept back frantically in terror, finally losing bladder control in sheer fright.

“You killed my sister because you thought she was my wife?” Albus held up his wand and waved it harshly. Ginny was picked up forcibly and thrown with tremendous force against the wall, breaking several of her bones.

Grindelwald, a dark look of vengeance on his face, joined in a moment later, throwing a curse that shattered her teeth into a thousand tiny shards in her mouth.

“No!” Ginny screeched through her mangled mouth. “I only did it because I loved you!”

“I don’t even know you!” Albus roared. “And for that insipid reason, you killed my own beloved sister?”

Ginny frantically reached for her wand, but Grindelwald was faster. “Lacerus!” His high-powered Slicing Curse neatly decapitated the time-traveling murderer.

Now that it was over, Albus looked troubled. He walked over and glanced at the corpse, trying to figure out who this mysterious girl could be. Gellert walked over and put a comforting hand on Albus’ shoulder.

“Albus, you should not feel bad,” he said in a thick accent. “She killed Ariana und was trying to seduce you.”

This particular sentiment sickened Albus in more ways than one, including one that Ginny would now never realize. Suddenly, Albus’ eyes fell on an odd pendant.

“My word,” he exclaimed. “Could that be a Time-Turner? But it’s so small!”

Gellert lifted the device and looked at it with a practiced eye. “It appears so, Albus. Perhaps she is from de future?”

Albus looked troubled. “Merlin… I do hope this hasn’t adversely affected the future.”

----

The Future…

Harry grimaced in pain. This was not the first time it had happened, either.

He reached down and yanked the girl’s head back. “Damn it, Daphne. I told you to watch your bloody teeth. What kind of a celebration is it when I have to worry about you accidentally biting my bits?”

Daphne Greengrass looked chagrined. “Sorry, Harry, but you know how hard it is for me to control myself when I get excited.”

Harry frowned. “No excuses. Someone else will just have to take your turn. Oh, Tracy?”

Tracy’s head popped into the room. “What is it? Did Daphne screw up again? Well, so much the better for me.”

Daphne pouted. This was the worst post-Voldemort party ever.

 

Great job Jeram, with such added icing on the cake of Ron kill off, and Harry ending up with Tracy and Daphne. Very enjoyable.

 

Quite enjoyable, Jeram, although I assumed you were going to put a Grindelwald/Dumbledore sex scene in there. You have my gratitude for not putting me through the turmoil.

Kudos for a nice ending as well.

 

Right. I should be writing my Management Essay, but I could not resist adding my own contribution to this noble cause, one twisted to include my personal enjoyment.

Without further ado, I give you ''A Woman Scorned''

The day after bringing young Albus Severus to King’s Cross was as uneventful as the last 5 or 6 years so far. Harry could no longer tell when the process began, but save for some genuine moments of happiness spent with his children, which were rare and far in between, Harry quickly slipped back into his former anti-social habits. He was far more adept at hiding it these days, however. The passing of the years had matured Harry in magic and mind, and not even the ever inquisitive Hermione could sense something was wrong in his life. Truth be told, he was bored. Bored, morose and mildly annoyed if he were to admit it.

Family life, which at one point he would have considered the ascendance to Heaven, was beginning to be overrated. The lack of adventure, coupled with the increasingly annoying habits of his wife led to Harry’s seclusion from his family. When his children were at Hogwarts, most of his time was spent in his office at the Ministry, as well as away on several “business and political trips”.

The last reason for his morose mood was the hardest to confess and it had taken him quite some years. The passing of the years did nothing but good for Harry. Even now, past his youth, his features did not turn old, but distinguished. Middle age lent Harry a grace he had not known during his youth.

The same could not be said of his wife. Having forgotten the eons old wisdom of looking at a girl’s mother before marrying her, Harry was forced to face the results. The passing of time was not kind to Ginevra. While at some point, his confused, youthful mind might have found her attractive, his matured one was repulsed by her. The freckles had expanded to the point that her skin seemed covered in raw orange and red patches. After three carriages and a life encompassing the same sedentary attitude as her mother, coupled with her passion for greasy food, her hips had expanded to rival her mother’s. Her hair had thinned out after a while, forcing her to cut it short. After insisting to breastfeed all of her three children, Harry swore that her breasts could be tucked in her panties if she tried hard enough.

However, Harry did not consider himself a man who cared for appearances only. Even the story circulated by the Prophet shortly after their marriage, detailing young Ginevra’s tumultuous love life did not deter him from his wife. No, the reason he was now apparating to a far away retreat caused him to distance from his wife. Harry had found a kindred soul in his distaste for his current life. One other who felt overburdened by the small nation the Weasley family was turning into. One other who felt ashamed by her spouse’s appearance at the various social events they attended.

‘Harry,’ said Fleur huskily ‘I am so glad you came. For a moment, I thought you couldn’t make it.’ In between kissing his lover he managed to explain the reason for being late, namely one of Ginny’s crises. They could be called cute when she was younger. Perhaps she could even be described as ‘fiery’. After 18 years of marriage, her whiny voice grated on his nerves enough for him to take a wand to his wife and demonstrate the Lestrange Method.

Fleur, true to her race’s divine abilities did not look a day older then when he saw her the first time. Her silky blonde tresses were unblemished and her silhouette was carefully maintained through daily exercises. The one child she had was taken care of by a wet nurse, leaving her breasts in their original state of perfection. The two lovers, secure in the knowledge that the Weasley plague had not spread this far out in the world, acted as if they were alone.

Ginny Weasley did not trust her husband. Not since he refused to share her bed for the past 4 years. That was one of the reasons she was trying to follow him now, her breath coming out in wheezy, painful gasps. She had not had such physical exercise since she was in Hogwarts. After all, Lady Potter did not have to raise a finger. Seeing Harry look around and disapparate, she blessed her foresight of having Seamus, who worked at the Department of Transportation, place a tracking charm on her husband. He was not that eager to comply, but the small blackmail concerning James Potter, and the terrified perspective of facing a cuckolded Harry Potter, made him comply.

Opening the sheet of parchment, Ginny frowned. Loire Valley, France? What in Merlin’s name could Harry be doing there? Determined to find out, and desperate to return to deforming the couch with the new Nathaniel Lockhart romance novel, she drew breath and apparated to the location. The image shocked her to the core. She saw Harry, and Phlegm! Kissing, in a state of semi-dress and acting comfortable as if this was an ususal occurrence! How could this happen to her? She was Harry’s soul bounded mate! And how did that French bitch dare to do this to her brother?

As upset as she was, tears did not come to her. It was not losing Harry that frightened her, it was losing the status of being Lady Potter. Seeing the solution to the problem, she withdrew her ever present Wizarding camera from her hideous Mermaid skin handbag. Snapping of a few compromising shots that would convince even Colin Creevey of Harry’s infidelity, she turned around to leave. One thing stopped her, however. Her pride was wounded, and she had to let Harry know of what was going to happen. Even if only to see Phlegm’s face when she did it. Heaving her considerable weight towards the two, she made a coughing sound, which was meant to come out lady like. The phlegm that accumulated in the back of her throat throughout the long journey came forward, and the cough turned out resembling a truck driver’s rather than a lady’s.

Nonetheless, it served its purpose. The couple’s heads turned around from their previous bliss to stare at the occurrence. No one moved, until Ginny decided to break the silence.

‘So this is how it’s supposed to be after 18 years of marriage, Harry James Potter,’ squealed Ginny, as her husband regarded her calmly. ‘And Fleur, how could you this to my brother?’
‘Ginevra, I am sure we can discuss matters calmly,’ started Harry moving towards her.
‘Calmly? Why wouldn’t I be calm?’ squealed Ginny, thumping one chubby foot on the ground in a perfect imitation of her mother. ‘I have pictures. I am very calm Harry; the settlement will leave me well taken care of. The public will rally behind Harry’s poor wife who he abandoned for a Veela!’

Ginny smiled sadistically, the fat in her cheeks stretching into a poor imitation of a sneer. Fleur flinched at the way she said ‘Veela’, but remained silent. This was Harry’s domain, although she wished he would find an easy way to deal with the annoyance.

In his youth Harry had not cared about his wealth. His poor, unassuming soul had wanted to give it all to the Weasleys to help them out with life in the hovel. As time passed, he grew to enjoy the finer things of life. He thought of his beautifully restored manor in Godric’s Hollow, his family’s artifacts and the Black silver. All the gold accumulated through 18 years of careful investments. He found himself unable to let it go. But he knew how the public would react. The Saviour was not the universal hero anymore. Younger generations did not remember his deed. Sighing at the necessary action he must take, Harry drew his wand pointing it at a stunned Ginny Weasley, who at last began to feel fear.

‘Harry, what are you doing?...’ started Ginny.
‘Avada Kedavra,’ said Harry calmly, almost caressing the words of the curse. The sickly green light traveled the short distance quickly and struck the large woman in the chest, throwing her backwards with a loud thump. Admiring his work, he pocketed his wand, turning towards his beautiful Veela lover.
‘Fleur,…’ started Harry. She merely put a finger on his lips.
‘Shh, darling. It was a necessary thing. Merlin knows that woman was horrible,’ said Fleur smiling at him. ‘There is only one more we need to take care of now…’

‘You’re right of course,’ said Harry, realization dawning on his features, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then his features turned grave once more.

‘There has been a great deal of Dark Arts activity gathering lately. It would only be natural they strike at my poor wife. If only I could have been there to stop them,’ started Harry, struggling to produce a small tear, but giving up when he was unable.

‘And I have heard that Fenrir’s daughter was part of some Werewolf superiority group,’ started Fleur, her frame trembling. ‘I never knew that poor Bill would be a target,’ sniffed Fleur, twin tears framing her perfect cheeks.

Harry chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss her. Deciding they would follow Hermione’s advice of getting work done before pleasure, Harry transfigured Ginny’s corpulent corpse into a fallen tree, took Fleur’s hand and disapparated for England. He was going wolf hunting…

 

LOL ... Nice Meth. Not the greatest physically, but very lol.

 

A/N: My entry to the Ginny-Kill off, which was inspired by Tragedian and Spacks. Enjoy, and remember- just because you don’t believe in them, doesn’t mean that they don’t believe in you.


“You’re kidding, right?” Parvarti asked hesitantly, her voice rising above the duelling students around them. Over three dozen students, ranging from the tiniest first year to the tallest seventh year, cried out incantations as they hurled blasts of crimson and scarlet light at each other. Some of them dodged while others blocked or deflected the spell with glimmering silver shield charms.

“Oh, I’m not,” Harry said earnestly and he glanced around the Room of Requirement, lowering his voice and moving in closer. “My animagus form is the most deadly creatures known to man- wizard or muggle.”

Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot gave soft, impressed sighs and moved in closer to Harry, their Hogwarts robes looking as if they were two sizes too small as their large chests pressed against Harry’s arm. Harry’s emerald eyes flickered at their cleavages and a ghost of a smirk crossed his face as he tried to look solemn.

“I don’t believe you,” Padma said flatly, the Indian beauty folding her arms over her chest and giving Harry a disbelieving stare. “Are you saying that it’s more dangerous than a Nundu, or a dragon, or a basilisk?”

“I don’t know about a Nundu, but I’ve fought a dragon and a basilisk,” Harry said softly. His hands reached forward and he clasped them against Padma’s, drawing her in closer and staring her in the eyes. “And I tell you, they’re nothing compared to this. Hell, I’ve duelled Lord Voldemort and survived, and I’ll march against him whenever I have, but the very thought of me going against one of them makes me want to curl up in a corner and cry.”

“Oh, Harry,” Parvarti said softly, knocking Padma out of the way and squeezing his hands as she gazed at him with sympathetic brown eyes. “Surely they can’t be that bad?”

“What can’t be that bad?” Somebody interrupted and Harry glanced up to see a dishevelled Ron wiping sweat away from his forehead. His eyes sparkled with good natured amusement as he observed Harry and the four girls around him and he shook his head, almost in exasperation. “Up to it again, Harry?”

“They don’t believe me, Ron,” Harry said and shrugged his shoulders, looking disappointed. “They don’t believe me about…them.”

Ron’s good mood instantly vanished and he gave a shudder, reacting far worse to the referral to his name than any proclamation of ‘Voldemort’ could ever hope to achieve.

“Blimey, Harry,” He said weakly, putting a hand against his chest. “What have I told you about mentioning them in front of me?”

“I’m just telling you,” Harry protested, raising his hands in a placating manner. He gestured to the girls around him. “They don’t believe me. They think I’m making it up.”

“He’s not,” Ron said slowly, shaking his head with a nauseous look on his face. “I’ve seen him turn into one of them. It’s real, alright.”

“Don’t tell me you believe him as well,” Padma scoffed, looking decidedly unimpressed. “It’s nonsense.”

“Yeah, tell that to Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy,” Ron muttered and turned green. He held his hand over his mouth, giving a dry heave and quickly walking way as memories of the terrible battle in the Department of Mysteries haunted his memories.
“What’s this got to do with the slaughter in the Department of Mysteries from last year?” Padma asked slowly.

“What do you know about that?” Harry said, ignoring her question and focussing his piercing stare on her. Padma squirmed but answered hesitantly.

“Well, I know you were tricked into going to the Ministry to save a friend or someone,” she said slowly. “I know that Death Eater’s showed up and you were ambushed. I know that a lot of the Death Eater’s were mauled to pieces when some of the werewolves they had brought with them got loose…”

“No,” Harry interrupted. “That’s a lie. There were never in werewolves in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Then what happened to the Death Eater’s?” Padma asked in surprise. Harry didn’t answer but stared at her with knowing eyes and her mouthed dropped open as she gaped at him. “Oh, come on!”

“When Fudge found out that I had unleashed my animagus form on the Death Eaters, he ordered an immediate Class 4 Obliviate on the entire Ministry, including himself,” Harry said grimly. “There are only eight people who know what happened that night. Me, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna , Neville, Dumbledore and…Voldemort.”

Susan and Hannah squeaked with fright at the dreaded name and pressed themselves against Harry, their eyes wide with fear and seeking Harry’s reassurance. Parvarti clutched his hand tightly and took a deep breath, while Padma blanched.

“How does…he…know about it?” Parvarti whispered.

“He tried to confront me, to kill me,” Harry said tightly and something dark flashed behind his eyes, the lurking spirit of the most dangerous thing to have ever have walked the earth. “I was forced to transform and them…well, it cost Voldemort an arm and a leg to leave…literally.”

“If this is true, then how come we’ve never heard of it before?” Padma scoffed, although she was looking a little uneasy.

“You probably have,” Harry snorted grimly, shaking his head at Padma’s naivety. “Go to Australia and read a few newspapers. Look for backpackers being torn apart by serial killers, swimmers being mauled by sharks, campers disappearing in the bush. It’s them. It’s always them.”

“You mean…” Padma started softly.

“It’s the world’s largest cover-up,” Harry replied and leaned forward surreptitiously, taking the time to breathe in the scent of four beautiful, shivering girls. “The Australians deny it. They always have. They think it would ruin them- and they’re right. Who would want to go to Australia once they learned of them? Who would risk it? So they make up stories. It was a crocodile who did it, not one of them. It was a shark, it was an accident, they got lost, they drowned- but it was never one of them. And then there are those who do know of them, who live their entire lives in fear knowing that they knowof true demons, who go to extraordinary lengths to keep it a secret, to keep it hidden from the public.”

“And it’s your animagus form?” Susan breathed softly, staring at Harry with a new sense of awe- and fear- in her eyes. “You’re one of them?”

“It’s my power, Susan,” Harry said gently and reached out to stroke her against the cheek, looking resigned and defeated. “It’s my power and it’s my curse.”

“Prove it,” Padma said suddenly, looking determined and Harry blinked. “Prove that you’re telling the truth.”

“I told you, nobody will…” Harry started, but was interrupted.

“Show us,” Padma said flatly. She looked incredibly stubborn as she gazed at Harry with narrowed eyes. “Show us and I’ll believe you.”

Harry gave a nervous chuckle and ducked his eyes, shaking his head in despair. Hannah gave a soft sigh of sympathy and placed an arm around his shoulders, trying to comfort him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Harry murmured softly. “Or you would never have suggested that.”

“What’s wrong? Scared?” Padma taunted daringly, looking at Harry challgeningly.

“Not for me, Padma,” Harry muttered, ducking his head and lowering his eyes. “Not for me.”

“Why don’t you just give him a break, Padma?” Parvarti said with a scowl on her face.

“Yeah, leave him alone!” Hannah said fiercely.

“It’s alright,” Harry said suddenly. “I’ll do it.”

“Harry…”

“No, she needs to see the truth,” Harry said firmly and stood up. He frowned, concentrating and requisitioning a small tub of very potent good. He handed it to Padma, who took it hesitantly. “We’ll go to the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest and I’ll show you. Smear that all over you and you should be safe.”

“What is it?” Padma asked hesitantly, touching the tip of the goo with her finger and lifting it to her nose.

“It’s eucalyptus oil,” Harry said grimly. “The ancient aborigines of Australia used to smear it all over themselves before they ventured into the bush. It kept them safe from them for sixty-thousand years.”

“When do we go?” Padma asked softly, suddenly feeling very nervous and anxious. Hannah, Susan and Parvarti crowded around her, all looking very meek at Harry’s stony expression.

“Now,” Harry said bleakly.


It was a cold, chilling night that night. The moon glowed in the sky amongst thousands of beautiful, glittering stars, casting a pale gloom over the large stretch of lake. The Forbidden Forest loomed past the backdrop of the twinkling castle, looming ominous and foreboding. Crowded around a small tree stump only a few hundred yards away from Hagrid’s hut, Hannah, Parvarti, Susan and Padma finished applying the last of the eucalyptus oil to their bodies. Harry had insisted that they wear the least amount of clothing possible, saying that the mores kin exposed to the oil, the safer they would be. Padma had scoffed but had taken off her robe, while Parvarti had dressed down to her bra and panties and Susan and Hannah were completely nude.

The girls gleamed in the night sky as Harry strode towards them, a determined expression on his face. His eyes glowed with the inner beast and Susan and Hannah shivered, both with fear and excitement as Harry approached. His green eyes flickered over the girls appreciatively and he seemed to be hiding a smile as he spoke up.

“Okay, I’m going to transform in the forest and then come out when I’m finished,” he told them, raking his eyes over their form. “Make sure you’ve smeared as much oil over yourself as possible. I mean it. If I smell any unscented human flesh, I’ll lose control and well- you may want to turn your wands on yourself before I get to you, though you better do it quickly. They can move very fast when they want to.”

With that, Harry turned back and strode into the darkened depths of the Forbidden Forest. The girls shivered as he disappeared into the murky depths and flinched as a gust of cold wind brushed past them, stirring up loose dirt and dead leaves. A wolf howled in the distance as they waited for something to happen.

The first sign that something was wrong was when a loud screech pierced the night sky. Padma flinched and clutched her sister while Susan and Hannah let our shrieks of fear. Padma frowned, suddenly feeling very afraid as she recognised what the noise was.

“That was a thestral,” she murmured, but was unheard by her companions.

A horde of bats and owls suddenly flew into their air in a loud burst of hoots and flapping wings as something stirred in the underbrush of the forest. Padma caught a glimpse of two eyes, glinting with the knowledge that they were the most successful predator to have ever walked the earth, before somebody called out from behind them.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” Ginny Weasley said crossly. Her red hair gleamed under the moon and her pale features were scrunched up into a look of disgust as she held her glowing wand up, peering at the small group of girls in front of her. The prefect badge glinted off her chest as she spoke. “It’s almost past curfew and why are you naked?”

“Ginny…” said Susan, her expression terrified. “You need to…”

“I need to go and get Professor Sprout, Flitwick and McGonagall,” Ginny interrupted crossly. “This is horrible. Parvarti, she’s your sister, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Ginny, listen to…” Hannah tried, but Ginny was having none of it and continued lecturing them. She had already been forced to miss out on the DA meeting tonight because of her patrol schedule and she knew that some little tarts were probably hitting on Harry right now. It seemed as if she had found a perfect outlet for her frustration.

Suddenly Ginny frowned and stopped talking. She sniffed the air, vaguely recognising familiar scene that was emanating from the nearly-naked or fully nude girls.

“What is that smell?” She started before trailing. Her features paled and she gaped at the girls with an open mouth. “Oh, no…”

“Run,” Parvarti whispered and Ginny tore off into the night, running back to the castle as fast as she could

Suddenly there was a loud, growling noise and a flash of black and white shot past the girls. Padma screamed out loud as fearsome creature hurled after Ginny, picking up speed and an astonishing rate. Hannah and Susan completely broke down into sobs while Parvarti dropped to her knees, looking numb.

“She’s gone…” she whispered softly.

“She’s not dead yet!” Padma snapped and grabbed her wand. Determination blazed in her veins and a very un-ravenclaw-like courage filled her mind as she tore after the thing that was chasing after Ginny. Her wand blazed with power as she lifted it and cried out an incantation.

A blast of silver light hurled through the air, splashing against the creatures back with a light tinkling noise. The creature seemed to be completely unaffected by the spell and continued tearing after Ginny, who was sobbing now as she sprinted up the hill.

“No…Harry….stop!” The red-haired witch said, her eyes welling with tears and her breath coming out in short gasps.

But her pleas only served to fuel the creature’s rage and with a loud snarl, it pushed itself off the ground on all fours and soared through the air. Sharp, razor-like claws dug into Ginny’s back and she let out a piercing scream of agony as she collapsed to the ground. Sobbing, the witch shakily slashed her wand, a coil of scarlet magic zapping through the air and striking the creature attached to her back in the face. The actual spell didn’t seem to have an effect but the burst of light disorientated the creature and its grip loosened enough for Ginny to shrug it off and stagger back up off the ground.

The creature moved as a blur, its claws slashing over the back of her shins, and Ginny screamed again. Sobbing, she ran with a limp, her dignity forgotten as she screamed for help. The creature snarled around, a truly chilling noise that would have sent shivers up Satan’s spine, and launched itself from the ground. It landed on Ginny’s back and, in midair, used her as a platform to jump up into the air. Ginny screamed as the creature’s legs pushed her forward and she went soaring through the air, landing in a crumpled heap under a large, oak tree by the edge of the lake.

The red-haired witch staggered to her feet, her cheeks stained with tears and blood oozing down her back and shins, and whirled around, her wand out and the most powerful curse she knew- the bat-bogey- on her lips. But the creature was gone. Fear pounded in her heart as she tried to peer through the shadows. Where was it? Where had it gone?

“Ginny!” Padma screamed as sprinted forward. The redhead’s eyes were drawn to the beautiful sixth year Ravenclaw, panic, fear clouded her irises. “Don’t stay under the tree! For the love of God, don’t stay under the tree! That’s how it hunts!”
For a single instant, Ginny couldn’t comprehend what Padma was saying, and then- it hit her. As Padma shot up towards Ginny, safe with the eucalyptus oil spread across her body, she watched the next few moments in what seemed to be an eternity.

Ginny’s eyes widened and a multitude of emotions flew through them; panic, fear, sadness, horror, dread and the impending knowledge that she was about to die. The redhead looked up and for a split-second, saw the creature hidden in the leaves in all of its horrible glory. Fiery yellow eyes, devoid of a soul, penetrated her gaze. Thick, razor-sharp claws protruded from small padded feet, one being much longer than the others- making it very effective for gouging out eyes and slicing the skin open of its prey. Broad, muscular shoulders gave way to a circular head, with a flat, moist nose and two round ears. It was covered in a mixture of black and white fur that made it impenetrable to anything short of a tank. It was small, it only came up to Ginny’s knee, but there was an air around it, a horrible aura of death and fear. This creature was acquainted with both- and enjoyed it. The very sight of the beast sent a wave of chilling fear down her spine and she let out a horribly piercing scream as it dropped from the tree and launched itself at her.

Padma could only watch as the terrible beast savagely ripped through Ginny as if she were a piece of paper. She stood there, her eyes wide and her legs stiff and unmoving as glinting claws shredded through skin and muscle. Distantly, Padma’s mind noted that a spray of blood had splashed across her face, but she was so caught up in the carnage of the moment that she didn’t even flinch when torn, bloodied arm flew through the air and struck her in the chest, staining her Hogwarts jumped and tie with Ginny’s crimson lifeblood. Gore filled through the air and the creature let out a raging screech of satisfaction as it bathed in Ginny’s gruesome remains, licking its razor-sharp teeth with its tongue.

“What did I do?” Padma wondered softly, her mind blank of any emotion as she began to tremble. “What did I do?”

But there was no answer and Padma could only watch as the most horrible creature on the planet, the being feared by all and hunted by none, the infamous and most horrible scourge of life, the brutal, the vicious, the remorseless Drop Bear of Australia and animagus form of Harry Potter, bathed in the blood of his former-girlfriend.

They said that they didn’t exist.

They said that they couldn’t hurt you.

They were wrong.

And Ginny Weasley had paid for it.