Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Habits ❯ Habits ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Okay, just warning you, but this one's kinda weird. I was wondering what would happen if Harry Potter went kinda Moody-ish, but with a little twist. This is the result.
Yes, Harry goes mental. And yes, the tone of the piece is kinda flippant. But it works, so give it a try. You have to read to find out the rest. And no, I don't give away anything in the bottom notes, so you'll just have to read it to find out what the deal is.
DISCLAIMER: (laughing) Sorry, hun. If it was mine, I soooo would not be writing fanfiction. I'd be writing more books and making billions.

Habits
One-shot
By: Ceris Malfoy

Harry Potter has never been a creature of habit.
As far as he was concerned, habits could get you killed.
Take Hermione Granger, for instance. A nice enough girl, if you discounted the simple fact that she was an insufferable know-it-all who just didn't know when the Hell to shut the fuck up. (How she had made it into Gryffindor, Harry had no clue, and he rather doubted she had bribed the damn thing.) She had been killed because she was too predictable. You see, Hermione had this little habit. She called it research, but everyone else called it a bloody-pain-in-the-arse. Not that Hermione cared, mind you. So one day, Lucius Malfoy (poofs, the whole lot of them) casually mentioned some rare potion in her presence, and while Harry had immediately smelled a trap (it had Voldemort's stench all over it), and HAD warned Hermione not to go to the library, did Hermione Granger listen?
Noooooo. He was just the God-Damned Boy-Who-Lived. Why should anyone listen to him?
“Silly child,” she had said fondly. `What do you know about such things? You're just a boy.” (Harry had barely resisted the urge to tell her about what had happened to Ronald Weasley and his part in that particular adventure, but he really didn't feel like spending the rest of his life in Azkaban). When he had testily replied that he was the same age, she sighed and snapped, “Stop acting so childish!” while glaring furiously at him. And then Hermione Granger turned on her heel and stormed off to the library to do what she was famous for: research.
Instead of a book, she grabbed a port-key and ended up the main attraction of a Dark Revel.
She did not survive the various `entertainments'.
And then there was Severus Snape. A complete asshole and a sadist to boot. He had been brutally murdered because he was a creature of habit (and Harry privately and publicly thought that Snape deserved what he got. After all, a spy should know better than to be predictable). After every meeting with Voldemort, Severus would go to his chambers, get properly shit-faced, and then stalk up to Albus Dumbledore's office to give his, slightly slurred, report.
Draco Malfoy (yet another poof. Really, Lucius shouldn't breed) caught onto this routine quite quickly and for two years he planned and schemed until he had come up with a way to hear what was being said to Dumbledore without being caught or even suspected. (And Harry had to admit, poof or not, that was a quite brilliant piece of magic.)
Once he had become certain that Severus Snape was indeed the traitor that the Dark Lord had been searching so vigorously for, Draco had personally contacted the Dark Lord (very brave poof indeed). Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark Lord in history, was absolutely livid. More than livid. He. Was. Pissed.
The next time Voldemort summoned his Death Eaters...
...well, Harry really didn't like to think about that part. It was enough to know that Severus Snape's corpse had eventually been found.
In pieces.
In 214 different locations around London proper.(1)
The Dark Mark lazily floating above each piece.
Lord Voldemort had been killed because of his habits. You see, he had this odd little habit of mouthing off about how great he was and how he was going to kill you with lots of pain involved, instead of just getting down to the part where he kills you with lots of pain involved. Harry had gotten bored during the `how great am I' part of the speech (it wasn't even interesting the first time he'd heard it. This was the sixteenth), and had gutted the Dark Lord with his Potions knife.
There. Problem solved. Dark Lord dead. (2)
Ronald Weasley, too, had been killed because of his habits. He had a dangerous habit of getting ridiculously jealous of Harry, and misplacing that jealousy into anger. Harry had not found it funny. Indeed, he had grown so tired of his supposed-friend's mistrust, that he decided to be worthy of such mistrust, and led Ron into a trap.
And Harry was only able to do so because of Ron's other little habit. When Harry was going through his whole jealous/angry faze, Ron had the odd habit of stalking Harry, trying to prove that Harry Potter had indeed turned to the Dark Side. (Harry nearly burst out laughing every time he heard that particular phrase, as visions of little munchkins with light-sabers went dancing through his head.) So Harry snuck out one night and Ron followed at a comfortable distance behind. Once outside the dorm, he quickly cast an invisibility-spell, then an illusion-charm. The result? Ron ended up following an illusion of Harry Potter down the hall, through the castle, out the Great Hall, and past the wards.
Ronald Weasley was discovered missing in the morning.
His body was found six day's later, so mangled that the medical examiners had to resort to six different identity-spells, all cast at the same time, just to learn whose corpse they were examining. (3)
Molly Weasley died of shock twenty minutes later when she saw what had been done to her son, dragging to the grave her husband right alongside her, as the two of them had agreed to do the soul-binding spell at their wedding. (Harry supposed that this was supposed to be an act of undying love, but to him it was just plain idiotic.)
And even the great Albus Dumbledore had died because of his habits. Everyone knew of his love for muggle-sweets, and even better known was his love of Lemon-Drops in particular. Some clever, enterprising person had managed to poison Dumbledore's entire stock of Lemon-Drops.
No one was quite sure how the person had managed it, and even more mysterious was how the person had managed to keep the poison hidden from a wizard as wise and powerful as Albus Dumbledore; especially considering the wizard routinely scanned all foods and drinks for poison to begin with.
Harry didn't like to blow his own horn, but he had his own opinions about what had happened. He personally thought that a muggle chemical had been used, as more often then not, Wizards never considered that anything muggle could kill them. More notably, he thought that it was the chemical tetrahydrozaline hydrochloride that had been used. It was tasteless, odorless, and in enough quantities for a man half of Dumbledore's age, fatal. The main ingredient in Visine -muggle eyedrops- tetrahydrozaline was a vascular constrictor. The victim's blood-pressure spikes, and then they have a stroke or a heart attack and within a few moments they're dead.
Harry took great care not to mention this out loud, of course. It would be entirely too suspicious if he knew so much about what killed Dumble-dork.
So, he lived, when most did not. Through deceit and deception and sheer depravity, he survived. He survived to be an old, old man, living alone, rumored to be dangerous and half-mad on top of that.
And Harry Potter died, hanging himself in the middle of the flat that he had rented.
He had become so paranoid about having a habit, that he had only realized that he had assumed the greatest one of all, and was determined to break it.
You see, Harry Potter had the habit of surviving, at any cost.
Harry Potter did not like to be a creature of habit.
Because habits will get you killed.

Yeah, so that was Harry Potter gone Moody with a twist. Hope you liked it. I had great fun with this fic. (giggles) As I'm sure you noticed. Read and review and tell me what you think, okay?
Ja ne,
Ceris Malfoy
NOTES:
1. For those of you who say that is impossible, consider this. There are 206 bones in the human body. So there's 206 pieces. Then you have organs like the heart, eyeballs, kidneys. Or you could break bones in half. Or cut an ear off (no bones in those). Or...other parts. Trust me. It's easy to get 214 different pieces of the human body.
2. No,I am not considering the Prophecy. In this fic, there is no prophecy. Got that?
3. The six spells are as follows:
Cognomen. Latin. It means `a surname, family name'.
Denomino.Latin. It means `to name'.
Nomino.Latin. It means `to name, give a name to.'
Genus.Latin. It means `birth, descent, origin; race, stock, family.'
Prosapia.Latin. it means `family, race, stock.'
Comperio.Latin. It means `to find out, discover.'
All are used to identify someone, dead or not, in some way or another. Comperio, however, is a Dark Spell, as it rips inside the mind, magic, and soul for the answers. (Sort of like a combination attack from a Legillimens and a Dementor.)