Lessons, Hunts and Revelations
Life passed quickly. After a few weeks of slipping up; introducing himself as Harry, getting the year wrong, talking about future inventions, etc, Alastor fitted into 1920's American life easily.
It took a while longer for the Cormiers to trust him enough to induct him into Voodoo, but when they eventually did, he took to it like a duck to water. Things were far more relaxed after that. Lucie and her husband Marcellus ‘Call me Mar’, taught him so much. Obviously, lots of it was voodoo and other ritual magic, but quite a bit was things that he wished he had known as Harry.
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“But I really don’t like the formal suits, Lucie.”
“Al. It is irrelevant whether or not you like them, they’re necessary! People will see your clothes before they see you, so make your clothes good. That dark auburn-brown one, for example, is formal and neat, unusual but not disruptive, illuminates your face, matches, not contrasts, your hair, and highlights your eyes. If you wear that, people will immediately assume you’re someone important, it shows you have a fashion sense, and girls will adore you in it.”
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“Never bite your nails in the presence of lesser people or people you want to respect you.”
“Mar! It’s just a nervous tic.”
“That is precisely the problem. Nerves are a weakness. You bite your nails, you show weakness. You show weakness, you get attacked. People don’t want to obey a human, they want to follow a leader. A ruler. A god. If you actively want to be underestimated, showing nerves is good. But if you want to get into High Society, if you want to be Someone, you have to be cut-throat, ruthless, subtle, and, most of all, emotionless.”
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“Al, cher, you have to think before you act. Bravery is good, heroism is useful at times, but too much of it and you’ll be as dead as a dodo. A respected dodo, perhaps, a gloriously brave dodo; but nonetheless, a very, very dead dodo. Go ahead, leap before you look. Only make sure to think first, what might be waiting for you to land?”
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“Charm. Charisma. Wit. The three pillars to popularity. Fear is great. Fear is fun. Fear lasts longer and makes a deeper impression. But if you rule only through fear, sooner or later there’ll be a witch-hunt. Make jokes, socialise, tease lightly, laugh, flirt, in fact flirt a lot, dazzle and delight but never show-off. Self-deprecate. Downgrade your accomplishments but ensure to take compliments with a grin and a thank you. Support others in public, work against them in secret. Complicated? It’s just politics. Small-scale, social politics, but that doesn’t change their nature.”
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“Always smile, Al. A smile is the best weapon you’ll ever have.”
“Why? A smile is just an expression. Surely it can’t be better than.. Rituals, say, or a knife.”
“Ah, but that is where you are wrong. See, a smile inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing, and ensures that, no matter what the world throws at you, you always appear in control. A smile lets you joke and lets people think they’re your friends. A smile will, in the end, cause more terror than a snarl. More flies with honey and all.”
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The last lesson would become the most utilised out of all, as Alastor found that indeed, a smile was a great weapon.
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He would always remember the day of his first kill. The three of them, he, Lucie, and Mar, were walking in the bayou to catch alligators for dinner. It was creepily silent, just the way he liked it. That is, until a gun broke the silence. A metal bullet raced past, screaming, and buried itself in a tree next to Lucie.
“Sorry, niggers, guess I didn’t see you, you blend in so well.” A drawling voice called, and Al saw red. He threw his hunting knife hard in the direction of the voice, and grinned widely when he heard a wet thunk, then silence. Miraculously (Or magically) the knife had found its target.
“Alastor! What have you done!”
“He was talking prejudiced shit about you two! What else was I meant to do?” Alastor was ready to defend himself when the disappointed fury came, Voodoo was one thing but surely murder was quite another.
“Hold up, Al… Is this your first kill?” Mar said, delight in his tone.
Alastor paused, shocked by Mar’s apparent delight at Alastor committing murder, and thought intently. He had never killed anyone as Harry, although he certainly had tried to kill Voldemort. The key word being tried. “I believe so, yes.”
“Well, look at that! Your first kill, and for righteous reasons! You’ll go far, my dear, you’ll go far.” Lucie smiled, her eyes lit up with the same exhilarating thrill as Alastor felt; the thrill of the hunt.
A memory drifted back to Alastor, from where, he didn’t know. Words were spoken in an unfamiliar voice, yet the words themselves were painfully familiar. However, he swore that no one had ever said them to him, either as Harry or as Alastor.
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“Never look a gift horse in the mouth, my Alastor. Unless it is a gift contract. Then, do not only look it in the mouth, conduct a full dental examination.”
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An unnerving thought came to him. Was this one of Alastor’s memories? Not Harry-turned-Alastor, Alastor-before-Harry. Alastor had never thought about there being an Alastor-before-Harry, he supposed he had thought that Alastor’s body was Harry’s body, only changed. But if there had been an actual other person inhabiting the body, another soul that Har-Alastor had somehow displaced? He felt sick.
Lucie broke him out of his daze by teasing “Now, all you need to do is eat his heart- Only if you want to that is!- and we can have a proper party!”
“Er- Lucie, what did you just say?”
“Well, it’s your first human kill, that calls for a celebration; if you ate the heart it would be your first hunt, which also calls for a celebration; also if you eat the heart it would be your first taste of cannibalism, which…”
“Also calls for a celebration?” Alastor guessed. Oddly enough, the thought of eating human flesh didn’t repulse him, as he had thought it would. In fact, it rather interested him. Curiosity killed the cat; satisfaction brought it back.
“Precisely! So..” Mar asked cautiously.
“I suppose you may as well try everything once.”
The three of them walked over to the dying man. He was convulsing in the throes of death, blood dripping from the dagger wound in his chest. Unbidden, Alastor felt a mocking Cheshire grin stretch across his face. Now. How did one go around extracting hearts?
After a minute, he nearly asked for help, but abruptly changed his mind. He recalled a rune he had learnt the other day, when learning ritual work. Berkanan was a simple symbol that looked like a spiky B. It stood for growth and worked well with new beginnings. That seemed very fitting, seeing as this was his first murder and first hunt. Bending down, he used a plain stick from the floor as a makeshift paintbrush; scooping up blood from his victim’s chest and using it to carefully paint the rune on each of his nails.
Reacting to his intent, it took no longer than a few seconds for his nails to grow, reshaping into long, sharp claws more suitable for a panther than a human. Looking back, he saw a glint of pride in Lucie and Mar’s eyes. With all his force, he leant over and raked his new claws deep into the man’s chest, enjoying the gargling rattle he emitted as his lungs were ripped. Visible through flaps of skin and torn flesh was the man’s stubbornly beating heart. Alastor reached in, twisting his wrist through already damaged rib-bones to reach the heart.
It was an exhilarating thrill better than anything he had ever felt. Holding another person’s life literally in the palm of his hand. A rush filled him, not dissimilar to the feeling when he had cast magic for the first time. Snapping himself out of it, he curled his fingers and pulled. It seemed to take a lifetime for the veins and arteries to break, but eventually they did. A fountain of blood poured out, filling the cavity where the heart had been.
Alastor held it in his hand, taking in a deep breath. Deciding not to second guess himself he bit into the heart.
He only had a few seconds to register the sticky iron taste of blood and that his teeth felt distinctly sharper, before his head filled with pain worse than anything Voldemort had ever caused.
Mynameis harry alastor alastor james hadrian charlotte potter black hartfeltIlivein atent thecormiershouse mymothershousewithmy bestfriendshermioneandron mentorslucilleandmarcellus mothercharlotteandgrandmahattieIam theboywholived avoodoopractioneratimetravellertheexboywholived avoodoopractioner
I am H A A a l l r a a r s s y t t o o r r
WE ARE… lost