Hell to Hellmouth
Hell to HellmouthRating:
FR 15 or so, for potty mouth. I don’t write sex scenes.Disclaimer:
Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Buffy and her crew are property of Joss Whedon and the writers over at Mutant enemy and all of those people. For fun, not profit.Summary:
Harry gets thrown into Azkaban for using the Unforgivables in his quest to defeat Voldemort. In his third year of incarceration he snuffs it, but instead of going to heaven or hell he gets transported somewhere else. Challenge # 972, “Wizard on Hell”.Notes:
Well, this is the first ‘serious’ fic attempt from me in a good long while. Hopefully it’s up to snuff, but if not you’ll let me know, right? I’m aware of the fact that the first chapter is a little on the short side; hopefully future installments will be longer. If there are any problems, please gently point them out to me; feedback is much appreciated, peeps. Peace.Chapter 1
That’s all he felt now, was the cold. Cold heart, cold soul, cold everything. Azkaban could do that to a man. The only thing that kept Harry sane was the fact that he knew
what he had done was right. He had defeated Voldemort, after all; who cared if he had pulled a few strings and done some illegal things to do it? It was Voldemort, He Who Lived to Be Killed by the Scrawny Kid with the Glasses. However, the minister didn’t see it that way, and as soon as the partying was over he threw him into Azkaban.“I’m sorry, dear boy, but rules are rules,” Rufus Scrimgeour had said as the Aurors bound and gagged him. “I can get you a reduced sentence because of who you are and what you did, but we have to make sure that you’re not a menace to society anymore. I do hope you understand…”Ha, nope,
thought Harry as he lay on his bed. He’d barely been eating for the last little while, only taking in food when the guards were watching. Which, in reality, wasn’t all that often. So, the already small man had taken on an almost skeletal look. However, it seemed as if no one really cared. Ron and Hermione had stopped visiting after six months, Remus after a year. The Dursley’s were probably dancing a jig on his parent’s graves, glad to finally be rid of him. I’m sure no one would give a damn if I just decided to up and croak,
Harry thought, almost gleeful. It was obvious that by now he wasn’t in his right mind, having been in solitary confinement for so long. He’d been without his friends for two and a half years, his wand for nearly three. He wasn’t due to get out for another two years, his sentence very reduced compared to the life sentence usually slapped on for using the Killing Curse.
So, on that night, Harry Potter made a conscious effort to die. Having the okay, his already strained body systems began to shut down one by one, and by midnight he was gone.
At least, from the Wizarding World…
Darkness and warmth assaulted Harry as someone or something tried to prod him awake. He batted at the offending person, wanting a few more moments of his blessed eternal sleep. At least, that’s what he was supposed to be having, the Big Sleep. Not being poked and prodded by someone who was currently getting on the man’s nerves.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” snarled Harry as he opened his eyes, glaring at the pudgy, unshaven and oddly smelly man dressed in a black and red robe. “Where the hell am I, anyway? And who are you?”
“You’re in limbo, kiddo,” the abnormally short man said, flipping through some pages on a clipboard in his hands. “You are
the Potter kid, right?”
“Unfortunately,” Harry mumbled. Sitting up, he looked at the man standing next to him. He was short, and upon closer inspection Harry noticed that he had slightly reddish skin and horns protruding out of his forehead. “Forget who are you, what
“I’m a limbo liaison,” the dwarf-like man said. At Harry’s blank look, he sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Jeez, crack a book sometime, would you? Wouldn’t have killed you to be more like Herms, you know. Name’s Mitch, but that ain’t going to matter in a minute or two.”
“Wait, you know about Hermione?” Harry asked, his heart leaping. “How is she doing? Are her and Ron still together? And what do you mean; it’s not going to matter?”
“Sorry, I can’t tell ya what’s going on in your old world,” Mitch replied. “And it ain’t going to matter because in a few minutes you’re going to be transplanted into a shiny new world. There’s an opening for a guy who knows about things that go bump in the night, and you were the next in line. Since you’re not quite done learning, down you go.”
“So, that’s just it?” Harry asked, obviously peeved. “You’re going to send me off to some God-forsaken world with no protection, no defense and no wand? You’re mental!”
“Well, not quite,” said Mitch. “The guys downstairs are sending you off with this.”
Seemingly out of nowhere, Mitch pulled out a sword. It was a beautiful double-edged broadsword, made of some sort of black substance. Harry touched the handle, and immediately he sensed that there was something wrong with it.
“That’s a cursed blade,” Harry said, jumping back slightly. “Take it back, I don’t want it.”
“You’ve messed with the dark side, kid,” said Mitch. “What the hell were you expecting from Lucifer himself? Fluffy bunnies?”
“Well, no, but…” Harry began, but he was cut off.
“But nothing boy,” Mitch concluded. “That’s gonna be your only defense from the demons and vampires, and you’re damn well going to take it with you. You’re going to end up dog meat otherwise.”
“Where in Merlin’s name are you sending me?!” Harry exclaimed. “Some whacked out hell dimension?”
“Nope,” Mitch replied with a smirk. “We’re sending you to La Boca Del Inferno. Hasta la vista, baby.”
With a gleeful and somewhat evil giggle, Mitch pulled a lever and the floor beneath Harry gave just as he translated the phrase. The Hellmouth,
he thought as he fell. They’re sending me to the fucking Hellmouth. I can’t believe it!
Harry landed with a loud ‘oof’ on top of a patch of freshly dug earth. Looking up, he noticed a headstone. Before he could read it, though, he heard scratching noises beneath him. He scrambled away just in time to see an earth-encrusted hand break through the surface.