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Lycanthrope Factory	By : StarLightMassacre Category: Anita Blake > Crossovers > AB/Harry Potter Views: 23091 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter; all rights go to J. K. Rowling. I do not own anything from Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter; all rights belong to Laurel K. Hamilton. I make no money for this piece of fictional writing and never will.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Last Time
Anita nodded and sighed, moving out of the autopsy room and binning her latex gloves. She begged, she prayed that these people were found soon, the alternative didn’t bare thinking about. Having more cases like this one, having more victims like Harry, it steeled her resolve to do absolutely anything and everything in her power or otherwise to take down this ring of mentally sick people, the longer they were at large, the bigger their opportunity to do this again.
Chapter Seven – Attentive Interactions
Harry stared at the man they were introducing him to. Inspector Bradley Bradford. He didn’t like him, no matter what angle he looked at him through, Harry didn’t like him. He cocked his head to the other side, just in case he liked him better that way, but he didn’t.
He crawled onto Asher’s lap and looked at the man from the higher place and he frowned. He still didn’t like him, not even from up high.
“Harry, I know this is difficult for you, but can you remember anything about your family before you were put into a cage?”
Harry blinked and turned into Asher’s chest, he didn’t want to answer anything asked by this man. He didn’t like him, he didn’t trust him.
“Harry please, we need to know what you know.” The woman, Anita, said to him, a thread of anger in her voice that Harry picked up on immediately, but he didn’t trust her any longer and he didn’t want to answer her questions either.
“Where’s Richard?” He asked Asher, patting his face gently to get his attention.
“He has had to go to work, mon ange.”
“I want Richard.” He insisted.
“He’s not here Harry.” Anita told him sternly.
Anita swallowed as Harry’s eyes filled up with actual tears that slid down his cheeks slowly. He looked even more pathetic than usual and when he buried himself in Asher’s chest, she just knew that they wouldn’t be getting any answers from him today without Richard being there, if then.
“The agreement was that you could come and question him if you wouldn’t upset him. You have driven him to tears, he has never cried before now.” Asher said sharply and angrily. He held Harry tighter when his shoulders started to shake jerkily.
“If he would only cooperate…” Bradford started, but Asher stood up angrily, Harry cradled in his arms carefully.
“Do not dare to blame him for being upset after your interrogation!” Asher defended.
“It was hardly an interrogation Asher.” Anita tried to placate.
“Questioning does not lead to tears if it has not turned into an interrogation that is too harsh for him to deal with. I will not let you harm him or upset him.”
“We’re not harming him Asher; we’re trying to help him.”
“You’re going about it wrong.” Asher said stubbornly as he held Harry safer and more securely as he snuggled in tighter.
“Perhaps if you asked the questions for us then?” Bradford tried.
“And have him angry at me as well? Non!”
“Asher, we need to know what he knows in order to help him, surely you can understand that?” Anita tried with a tired sigh. “We just want to find out who he is, where he came from, who did this to him. We want to get justice for him.”
“He doesn’t understand.” Asher told her stubbornly. “He doesn’t understand and it is upsetting him when you get angry because he doesn’t immediately catch on to what you mean. Patience has never been your strong suit Anita, but you must try harder.”
Asher sat himself back down and positioned Harry more gently on his lap, brushing the tracks of tears from his cheeks and from under his lower lashes before they could fall. Harry sniffed delicately and looked up at him with such trust that he had to swallow hard.
Harry had only shown Richard that level of absolute trust before and he had been right, seeing such trust in Harry’s eyes was overwhelming, it was frightening to think that this tiny, damaged boy trusted him completely with everything, with his life and happiness and with all the decisions, happy to sit and let him control his life as he saw fit without a murmur of complaint. It was empowering and crushingly awe-inspiring to have such power and control over another and Asher swore he would neither abuse that trust, nor do anything to stop it, he rather liked having Harry trust him that much, he only did so to two people, himself and Richard and the werewolf was cracking under the pressure of Harry’s absolute trust, if Richard broke under that pressure, then that would leave him, and him alone, as the sole receiver of Harry’s trust and that thought rather appealed to him.
Harry’s hand wound through a fistful of his hair, not pulling, just holding, as if for comfort and Asher was struck by the baby like action. Harry patted his cheek to get his attention, now he was holding a lock of his hair in a small hand, all he needed to do now was to start sucking his thumb and Asher would be sold on the idea that Harry had never been allowed to grow up even before he was put in a cage. If they needed more evidence that Harry had been abused as a young child then Asher didn’t believe there was hope for the justice system of this time.
“Okay, fine.” Anita relented. “Harry, please, do you remember anything at all about the people who took care of you before you were turned into a wereanimal?”
Harry looked up at Asher, his emerald green eyes wide and still bright and shiny with the remnants of his tears. It was heartbreaking, Harry obviously remembered nothing at this moment in time or he didn’t understand what they were asking or looking for. Asher had to put a stop to this interrogation, Harry trusted him to look after him now and he would do his all to protect the tiny, bony boy in his arms.
“Harry has said all he can on this matter.” He declared haughtily and decisively.
“He hasn’t said anything!” Bradley Bradford cut in angrily.
Asher levelled his most dangerous, cruel look at the man.
“He has given you the name Vernon Dursley, he has given you the residence number and street of four Privet Drive and he has given you the county Surrey, surely you can do something with that?” Asher intoned dryly, insinuating heavily that of course they couldn’t do anything useful with it.
“I already have a team working on that information, I need more to work with, I need to know everything he knows in order to paint a full picture of what these people did to him. I need to know the names of the doctors. I need to know everything.”
“Well you’re not going to get it by getting angry and frustrated with him.” Asher said dismissively, turning his attention to Harry, who had been looking at his mouth, watching him speak. When he noticed Asher looking at him, he gave a happy smile and Asher’s heart melted. He had never had a child, but he wondered if this feeling he was developing and growing for Harry would have been close to what he would have felt for a child of his own blood and seed.
“Can we please get back on track; we need the names of those doctors. There were only five; surely he can remember something of them.”
Harry blinked slowly and wetted his lips with the tip of a pink tongue.
“Nuh-uh.” He said softly.
Anita swallowed painfully. “What do you mean Harry?”
Anita deliberately spoke slowly and softly, trying her hardest to make herself approachable to not scare him off or make him close up yet again.
“There were five head doctors.” Harry said. “They had trainees and underlings and things too.”
Anita shared a startled look with Bradford. “How many about Harry, do you know?”
“I only really knew Oscar, Alfie and Stella.” Harry replied easily. “Stella was a nurse, she gave me my animal injections, but Jillian oversaw those, I think Stella was in training when I first arrived, or that I was really little and she wanted to make sure it went well.”
Bradford was scribbling furiously.
“Do you know any other names Harry?” Anita asked lightly.
Asher rubbed lightly at the back of Harry’s neck, encouraging him silently and reminding him that he was still there for him if he needed support or reassurance.
Harry frowned. “There were two stockists, they used to bring medical stuff and all the injections we needed, I think they were called Lewis and Anthony.”
“Do you have any last names?”
“What’s a last name?” Harry asked, looking to Asher and patting his cheek gently to gain his attention. “What’s a last name?” He repeated once Asher looked at him.
“It’s a second name after your first Harry. Yours is James.”
“Oh, what’s your last name?” Harry asked.
“I do not have one, I am a vampire, I have long since forgotten.”
“Mine is Blake.” Anita offered before Asher could confuse Harry. “I am known as Anita Blake, as you are known as Harry James.”
“Oh. I don’t think the doctors had last names.” Harry frowned. “Or I never heard them, they only used one name.”
“Okay, that’s alright Harry.” Anita coaxed him, even though it wasn’t really, they couldn’t do much with mere first names, millions of people had to be called Oscar, or Lewis, or Stella in the world and with nothing to single any of them out, they couldn’t do anything with the information at this time.
“Do you know how many underlings and things they had?” Bradford asked, using his notebook to use the words Harry had so he understood more.
Harry immediately curved himself around Asher’s body, his one hand even slipped between the buttons of his shirt and splayed over Asher’s bare skin. He shook his head quickly and jerkily and Anita wondered why he was so afraid all of a sudden, but she had given up hope of understanding Harry and how his mind worked a long while ago.
“Are there too many to count Harry?” Anita tried. “Or can you just not remember them?”
No answer was forthcoming as Harry buried his face in Asher’s neck and mumbled something quietly to Asher, who stood up and dismissed them.
“We still have questions Asher.” Anita said as levelly as she could, wanting to just shout at him, but unwilling to do so with an unstable Harry in the room.
“Harry is tired. This experience has worn him out and he needs to sleep to recuperate. Lillian’s instructions were very clear, if he gets tired, he needs to go to sleep.”
“I thought we had agreed that he wasn’t allowed to sleep during the day, it messes up his full night’s sleep.”
“If Harry wishes to sleep now because he is tired, then I will put him to bed.” Asher stated arrogantly.
“You want him to be nocturnal.” Anita said painfully as she realised what was going on. “You want him to spend more time with you.”
“I don’t know what you mean. Harry is tired; he is still recovering and needs his sleep. The good doctor told us to let him sleep when he needs too. Besides, Harry likes spending time with me and he likes the activity of the night more than the quiet, stillness of the day. If he wishes to become nocturnal, he has that choice.”
Asher settled Harry more comfortably in his arms and strode out, leaving the two in the room in silence. Asher carried Harry to his own bedroom and settled him on the silk sheets.
“This isn’t my room.” Harry stated perking up as his insatiable curiosity was awoken by the new surroundings.
“Non, this is my room mon ange. I thought you might like to spend your nap here, in a different room to the one you have become so used to.”
Harry grinned at him and wrapped him in a hug, squeezing tightly. So innocent, so trusting, so loving. Asher hugged him back gently, feeling his heart soar at the unconditional love of a young child. Harry wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t look at him with shame or accusation, no matter what he did, Harry’s trust in him went deep and Asher would do nothing to ever damage that trust, he was becoming addicted to the attention, to the love that Harry gave to him so freely and to very few others.
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Anita was at her wits end with this investigation. Harry’s information was useless and the information he did have was turning up nought. The house in Surrey was occupied by an elderly woman, who had bought it after its pervious resident had died in hospital a year or two ago.
This woman knew all that, knew exactly what had happened and the ‘scandal’ it had caused, but she didn’t remember the previous owners name, if the previous owner was even male or female, if they had any remaining family left, or anything that wasn’t spiteful gossip.
They now had to go the long way around through the British Housing Association and try and find out who had lived there before this vindictive old woman and it wasn’t going half as fast as she wanted it to.
The excavation at the factory site had revealed more skeletons and one which was buried twelve feet deep and had the skeleton of a large, malformed animal. It looked like it had been buried alive if the marks and damage the officers had found were any indication.
As if they had needed any more proof that these people were sick and twisted, a skeleton had been unearthed with an odd pile of small bones in its midsection. The officers believed that the woman had been heavily pregnant at her time of burial. They hadn’t found out yet if the baby had already been dead at the time of burial or if it was still alive or if the woman had been alive at her time of burial either.
This entire investigation was going to break something within her and haunt her for the rest of her life. The constant reminder of it in Harry was going to drive her around the bend soon, she just couldn’t take how obviously messed up he was and Richard was having a hard time with it too, when he wasn’t with Harry or in work, he was the most miserable and angry person she knew, lashing out at any and every one he could to try and make himself feel just a tiny bit better, but it often made him feel worse, which made him angrier.
Bradford elbowed her gently to bring her out of her thoughts and she looked at him questioningly.
“That was the previous owner’s grand-niece. Her grand-Uncle died of a heart attack two years ago, but he bought the house from a work colleague, a Mister Vernon Dursley, who had had to move to Bournemouth with his family for work reasons. At least as far as she knows.”
Anita sighed in part relief at having found out something.
“Did you get any numbers for the neighbours?”
“Already on it.” Bradford said his phone already to his ear.
Anita prayed that they got somewhere this time, she did want to help Harry and she wanted justice for him, but more than anything she wanted this case to just go away and be buried in the back of her mind with all the other horrific cases she had worked on over the years.
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Richard swallowed down his bad mood and his anger as he pushed open the door and smiled in sincere relief when Harry looked up, startled, only for his look of fear and apprehension to dissolve in to such a wide, happy, excited grin that it warmed him all the way down to his bones. It seemed like the only time he wasn’t angry or taking a dig at someone these days was when he was with Harry, who was so trusting and loving that it was impossible to be angry around him, impossible not to smile at him as he held such a childlike innocent view of everything it put new perspective on everything.
He swept Harry into a tight hug and kissed his forehead as Harry wrapped his tiny arms and legs around him tightly, nattering about the lecture he had been given on carpets and why they were used and what purpose they held. He was almost glad he had missed that conversation, but then anything that made Harry this excited and happy made Richard’s heart ache for the young boy, who had apparently never seen carpeting before.
“I mean, it was at the house before the cage, I remember that, but I was never allowed to touch it because I was filthy and slimy.” Harry said, his happy grin not once slipping as he revealed yet more signs of abuse.
“You’re not filthy or slimy.” Richard interjected sternly enough for Harry to believe him, but softly enough so that it didn’t upset him. It was a precarious balance that was hit and miss depending on Harry’s mood and thoughts that he didn’t actually show and Harry had the amazing, but frustrating ability of being able to retain every word spoken to him, though often not in the same context and seemingly sporadically, so everything said to him had to be carefully weighed and measured and even then if Harry was thinking something or feeling strongly about something that he didn’t show outwardly and he was then corrected or even agreed with, it could set him off and he could take it badly, even when it wasn’t intended that way.
It was wearing him down, slowly but surely, and he wasn’t sure how much more of this high stress situation he could take, but for Harry, he had to try harder, he had to try beyond his best to help Harry because absolutely no one deserved what Harry had been through, no one and if he could help in anyway, of course he was going to try his absolute best, but he longed for the day when Harry showed some improvement, even a slight progression would be welcomed, anything, just to prove that he was doing good, that the work he was doing with Harry was helping, something to show him that Harry could come back from this, that he could be saved from the terrible, horrific life he had been forced to live before now. He just wanted to know that he was being useful, that he was helping Harry recover, but the tiny boy gave nothing away and looked at him shyly and trustingly through such gorgeous coloured eyes.
Not for the first time Richard wished wholeheartedly that he was able to read Harry’s mind, he didn’t think he’d like what was inside, but if he could just see what he was thinking he could help more, if he could extract the information Anita needed for the investigation without questioning Harry to tears it would ease a lot of stress, frustration and bad feelings, but he couldn’t and looking into the happy, bright little face looking up at him from his arms, he read absolutely nothing from him. He was blank, happy and blank.
“Asher said that carpets can be all sorts of different colours!” Harry continued on when Richard offered nothing to the previous conversation. “He said they can even be black!”
He was so excited that Richard had to smile as he sat down in an armchair and let Harry straddle his lap, talking a mile a minute, repeating every single word Asher had told him on the subject of carpets.
“What do you think Richard? Do you think they make green carpets?”
“They do make green carpets, in every shade of green imaginable.” Richard told him with a smile.
Harry grinned widely and bounced on him excitedly. “I think I’d like green carpets. Do you like green carpets?”
Richard chuckled. “I like green carpets just fine Harry.”
“Where is Asher?” Harry asked suddenly, his voice changed from light and airy to something more solid with a thread of tension and upset.
“He has gone to feed Harry. Vampires need blood every day.”
“I want him here with us.” Harry sniffled and terrified that a tantrum or a crying fit was coming on, Richard stood up quickly and went to find Asher, carrying Harry pressed to himself, shushing him as he rushed around the underground of the Circus to find the blonde vampire, asking everyone he came across if they had seen him.
He finally tracked Asher down; he was sat with Anita, Jean-Claude, Micah, Nathaniel and Jason. Harry twisted in his arms and almost hit the floor as he tried to get to Asher that little bit quicker. Asher caught him and Harry wrapped around him like a limpet.
“He wanted to be with you.” Richard said, sitting down in an armchair with a sigh.
“Richard!” Harry called out confusedly, patting the seat next to Asher. “Here.”
For such a demanding action, there was absolutely no demand in Harry’s tone, more of a meek, timid request and Richard took one look into those watery green eyes and stood up again and sat himself next to Asher on the small loveseat, very uncomfortable with the way his leg was forced to press right up against Asher’s, but Harry happily slung a leg over his thigh, his other leg over Asher’s thigh, sitting on both of their knees and happily grinning, playing with his own fingers and prattling on under his breath so quietly that Richard couldn’t understand what he was saying and if his expression was any indication, Asher didn’t understand it any more than he did.
“You’re spoiling him.” Anita said disapprovingly.
Richard almost snarled. “He hasn’t even had the basic necessities in his life!” He argued. “He’s been beaten, abused, experimented on for some sicko’s pleasure and you say we’re spoiling him for letting him sit on our laps? What is wrong with you?!” He demanded angrily.
“Don’t be angry Richard.” Harry stroked his cheek, patting it gently as Asher had told them Harry liked doing to him ever since their trip to the Circus up top. The gentle tapping got his attention and the stroking calmed him as he looked into wide eyes.
“I’m not angry with you Harry.”
“I don’t like hearing you angry.” Harry insisted.
Richard blew out a breath and shuffled Harry closer to himself for a hug.
“I feel better now Harry, thank you.”
Harry smiled and rested on his chest, turned to the side so he could play with Asher’s fingers instead of his own, which had been given over freely for Harry to play with.
“Ma petite has uncovered some information on our mon petit pétale.” Jean-Claude spoke for the first time since Richard had entered the room.
“Really?” Richard asked, brightening up considerably, hoping that this was the break that they needed.
Anita nodded. “We spoke to neighbours of the Dursley family, a very pretty picture they paint too. Vernon Dursley was the typical male provider, strong ethics and opinions, one resident described him as very overweight with a moustache, his Wife, Petunia was a home maker, her house was spotless and perfect, not a fibre out of place despite having a young son. Most people didn’t know her Nephew lived with her and those that did said he was a little hell raiser and gave the family no end of troubles.”
The conflicting stories had led them around in a circle, some had been adamant that it was the Dursley’s overweight son who was the problem child, but others had insisted that it was the Nephew and that Petunia Dursley often sought comfort from other housewives on the street, crying onto them about the problem boy.
One neighbour, a woman called Arabella Figg, had been almost frantic to know if they had found the boy, she wanted to know where he was, how he was and further questioning revealed that she had used to baby sit Harry. She described him as a very quiet, sweet boy, who was always soft spoken and helpful, but she did say he was always covered in cuts and bruises and when asked why she hadn’t told the police or social workers, she had clammed up.
“Harry’s name is not Harry James.” Anita told them.
“It’s not?” Harry warbled out with a soft gasp. “But I like it, the neighbour told me that’s who I was!”
“No Harry, your name is Harry James Potter. Harry is your first name, James is your middle name and Potter is your last name.”
“I have a last name?” Harry asked with a grin.
Anita nodded.
“Have you found out an age?” Micah asked.
Anita shook her head. “The neighbours disagree on it. Some think he’s the same age as the Dursley’s son Dudley, which would make him about eighteen, some think he was younger, as young as thirteen and some thought he was older, the oldest stated was twenty. Bradford is looking for his record of birth as we speak.”
“So he could be between thirteen and twenty?” Richard asked, his hand playing with the skin on Harry’s hip, his arm wrapped around his back. He tried to think about Harry possibly being twenty, but the thought made him very uncomfortable.
It was fair enough if Harry was a young boy, a thirteen year old who wanted comfort, but a twenty year old was a bit different and he didn’t know how he would feel if Harry turned out to be a twenty year old man and acting so babyish with those around him.
“Did you find the woman who told Harry his name and that he was six?”
Anita shook her head. “She died a few months ago, so we couldn’t question her as she obviously knew Harry the best and at least knew when his birthday was.”
“None of the other neighbours knew?” Micah asked.
Anita shook her head again. “No, they didn’t even want to guess, apparently he never had a birthday party, the Dursleys told the neighbours that it was because he was always too naughty and spoilt it for himself, but their own son had lavish birthdays despite his bad grades and bad behaviour, but no one ever saw Harry at one.”
“I was always in my cupboard on Dudley’s birthdays.” Harry said happily.
Richard’s hand moved up to cup Harry’s head, possible twenty year old be damned, Harry had been through such a terrible ordeal, had lived such a terrible life, even before he had been put into a cage by those so called doctors. Richard just wanted him to get better, but if he was a twenty year old man, could they undo twenty years of such harsh, clinical treatment? Twenty years of systematic abuse and mistreatment? It was a lot to ask and a lot of Harry’s behaviour and mental state were still unknown, but if what they had seen so far, coupled together with the complete lack of progress, was any indication then it was going to be a very long road and at this current moment in time, there was no light at the end of the tunnel.
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A/N: I am so sorry that this has been such a long time coming, but with all of the fics I’ve got going on at the moment, the unpublished ideas and plots I’ve got going on and real life, it’s been hard to keep up with everything and I hope to never leave it this late again. I hope that this chapter helps smooth things over a bit and has moved the plot on a bit, the next chapter we will find out a bit more about the doctors and their hideous experiments, more about the on-going investigation and more Asher/Harry/Richard interaction, strictly on a platonic level at the moment as no one knows if Harry is underage or not yet, so no relationships forthcoming for Harry anytime soon.
StarLight Massacre. X
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Lycanthrope Factory