Trust and Betrayal
By: JA_Japster
Inspired and partially based on the OAV "Samurai X"
Harry Potter is copyrighted to J.K Rowling and Samurai X and Rurouni Kenshin is copyrighted to Nobuhiro Wazuki and Shueisha Jump Comics. The fanfiction is the product of JA_Japster and should not be reproduced in any fashion without permission.
Trust
Part VII: Fateful Meetings
The assassin was elated. Through his expertise he had rendered his opponent unarmed, and now he would sweep in for the final blow. He could only imagine Lord Voldemort's pleasure at the news of the infamous Slayer's death. Perhaps his master would even grant him a promotion!
The boy had fought well, the man conceded as his razor sharp blades tore through the air towards his opponent's heart. But it was clear who was the victor, who was the more skilled. Even the Order of the Phoenix's best assassin could not stand before his might.
The boy did not move. He did not seem the least concerned by the blade as their final approach as if he resigned himself to his inevitable fate. Suddenly, however, just as the assassin's short sword was about to sink into his flesh, the boy's left arm moved and a long, thin object appeared in his hand. Something that looked suspiciously like…
"You're not the only who has a few surprises." The Slayer whispered.
Oh my God! The assassin's mind screamed. He has another wand! It was his last thought, for suddenly he found himself floating in the air, the world suddenly very far away.
--
Harry raised his arm to shield himself as his spell tore through the assassin's body, tearing him in half and
sending a mist of crimson spraying through the air. He heard the audible thump of his assailant's upper
torso hitting the ground several meters away, and then a second later, another thump when his legs fell as
well.
He lowered his arm and surveyed the carnage of his making. Blood was everywhere, drenching the walkway and the walls, as if the street had been doused in a bucket of red paint. The air was thick with the pervasive stench of death, but Harry did not take any notice. He was used to this.
He collected his lost wand from the ground and sheathed it, but left the other out, hanging loosely from his left hand. During the fight he had detected the presence of an observer in the vicinity, and whether they were another hostile or not Harry needed to determine. Quick shallow breaths silent to the untrained ear thundered loudly in Harry's ears, and he methodically began tracking down the origin of the sound.
"I know you're out there." Harry called. "Come out and I won't kill you."
The shallow breaths abruptly ceased as Harry's quarry tried to escape him, but their heartbeat was deafening, a pounding staccato of fear. He hastily followed the noise down the road until he arrived at a small gathering of bushes that grew along the side of a wall. He leveled his wand at it.
"This is your last chance." He warned.
Ever so slowly, the bushes separated, and out from it emerged a young woman covered in blood. She was shivering from head to toe, her eyes wide and unblinking, gaping at Harry with unadulterated terror. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came forth.
Harry's wand lowered, and he reached forward and touched her gently on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" He asked.
The young woman, and before Harry could react, her eyes rolled back and she fainted, falling against a shocked Harry.
Harry looked down at the lady in his arms, and for a moment the elegant fragrance of something beautiful assailed his nostrils, drowning out the repugnant stench of the dead. It was intoxicating, a foreign smell that startled and confused Harry.
Something wet dripped against Harry's fingers. He glanced down to see a pool of red staining the young woman's bloody robes. Cautiously, he put her back down on the ground and carefully touched her torso, checking for a wound and simultaneously wondering how the hell it had happened. It was magically inflicted, that was no doubt. The cut was too precise to have been done by a normal blade and that meant it probably was the result of one of Harry's curses. His form was perfect, but had his curse been too powerful? And if so, how much damage could it have done to the wounded lady?
Stay alive, he begged. She was still breathing, that was always a good sign, but with every breath blood poured out from her shoulder where a large gash was located. Without thinking, Harry tore open the young lady's robes…and then stopped.
He flushed involuntarily, suddenly realizing exactly what he was doing and that the young lady he was trying to treat was in fact quite beautiful. He shook his head irritably. There was no time for that!
He finished tearing at her robes until he located the cut. Using his wand he cut off a piece of the sleeve of his own robe and pressed it tightly against the wound. Still, blood continued to pour, quickly soaking the rag and spilling over on to her paling skin.
He was using muggle remedies. He was trained to kill, not too heal. He knew nothing of healing magic.
Her chest rose and fell slowly with each shallow breath. The wound was bad and she would bleed to death if she didn't get help soon. Only magical healing would repair the damage his curse had done, and he couldn't trust that the magical authorities would find her quick enough. At the same time he had to get off the streets quickly. No doubt someone had already alerted the disturbance to the city watch, and Harry did not desire another unnecessary confrontation. Finally, he made a decision.
Hello?" He whispered, lightly slapping her cheek. "Can you walk?"
There was no response.
"Shit." Harry muttered.
--
"You good for nothing buffoon! How could you have just left him all by himself?"
Ron flinched, trying to ward off the onslaught of blows his mother rained down on him with her tiny fists. Upon hearing of the attack on Harry, Ron had rushed back to the Three Broomsticks only to find out that his mother and father, who were both sympathetic to the Order's cause, were already there. Harry had spent a good amount of time in his youth at Ron's home, and the Weasley's considered him one of their own. Suffice to say, Mrs. Weasley was none the least bit happy when Ron arrived.
"He could have been killed!" She roared.
"But he wasn't, mum!" Ron replied.
"That's not the point, Ronald! So much responsibility lies on that poor boy's shoulders! He has enough to worry about right without Ministry assassin's trying to harm him! I should go right now and demand that Dumbledore remove him to someplace safe!"
Ron rolled his eyes and was swatted smartly across the face for it. "Harry knows the dangers of his profession, mum, and I guarantee you he's more than capable of handling it."
What his mother did not know was the true nature of Harry's chosen occupation. She, like the rest of the Order, was under the belief that he was simply a courier. Only a select few knew of Harry's alter ego as the Slayer, and Dumbledore wanted it to stay that way.
"You stay with him from now on, Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley yelled. "And God help me if I don't transfigure you into something more suitable if I hear another bad report."
"Yes mum." Ron said.
With another dangerous snarl, Mrs. Weasley left. Ron's father patted his son on the shoulder, gave him an encouraging hug, and then followed, leaving Ron alone in the waiting room of the Three Broomstick's healing ward.
The door behind Ron opened, and Harry stepped into the waiting room, half soaked with blood and looking completely exhausted. He crossed across the room and sat down on a chair, placing his head in his hands with a weary sigh.
"How is she?" Ron asked.
Harry nodded silently.
"You alright, mate?"
"I almost killed her, Ron." Harry whispered. "She almost died, and I would have been responsible."
"Mistakes happen."
Harry shook his head fiercely and said, "I can't afford to make mistakes like this. Mistakes that might cost someone their life. I have been fighting this entire war to protect the innocent and in one night, one night Ron, I almost compromised everything."
"But you didn't. She'll be just fine. And you're not losing your edge. I've seen you fight before. There was something else that brought about this chain of events."
"You mean fate?" Harry asked skeptically. "I don't believe in fate."
"We all have one." Ron patted his companion on the back as he stood to leave. "Now go get some rest. Trust me. You'll need it."
Author's Notes
Sorry for the upload delay. This chapter was shorter and a bit rushed, so I apologies. Next chapter will be better, promise. I just got back from a family vacation at Trang, one of the islands off the southern coast of Thailand. Beautiful place with wonderful beaches and ever better rock climbing. Highly recommended if you're ever out there. The eleven-hour drive back to Bangkok wasn't great though. Lots of personal time between my GBA, a copy of Final Fantasy Tactics Advanced, and I. Good times though. Also contributing to my lengthy delay is becoming completely absorbed into Knights of the Old Republic II. Have any of you played that game? Addictive! I swore I wouldn't shut my Xbox off until I got my lightsaber, and unfortunately that didn't turn out to be until ten long hours later.
Be sure to drop a review and, Merry Christmas!!
Update: And I got a wicked flu. Great way to spend the holidays. Next chapter is going to be delayed a bit. Sorry.