Chapter 39

The man who was standing over her had his pants and briefs down around his ankles and his hands on her knickers and it was very clear to Harry what he was going to do.

Harry would not give him the chance.

Before the man could even react to his presence, Harry was already charging him. The man's head snapped over in his direction, his eyes widening in shock and then fear as Harry's hand changed into a paw with sharp claws.

Stumbling backwards, the man tried to move away from him, but his pants caught around his ankles and he began to fall. As he fell, Harry swiped at the man's throat, carving four deep gouges into his esophagus, trachea and vocal chords. The man's eyes widened in unfathomable pain, his mouth opening to release a yell that was reduced to mere gurgling as his vocal chords had been cut and blood welled up in his throat.

The Italian man hit the ground with a thud, his lifeblood spilling out of his throat and his eyes dulling as he bled to death.

"diavolo!" The other man shouted as he pulled out a gun, a pistol of some sort. Harry did not recognize the gun. He had never cared for such weapons, thus he had never bothered to study up on them beyond how they were used in various wars throughout recent history. All he cared about was that it was pointed at him.

As quickly as he could, Harry moved, twisting his body slightly to the left and forward just as the loud cracking of thunder rang out from the weapon.

Less than two seconds later the Italian man was lying dead on the ground, his face torn apart where Harry's pawed hand had ripped the flesh and muscles off.

Harry hissed in pain as he pressed his now normal hand to his bleeding shoulder. He had not been fast enough to avoid getting shot. Thankfully, it didn't really hurt that much. Compared to what he had already suffered through last year, a bullet wound was nothing more than a pin prick.

Still, it wouldn't do to have the bullet inside of him. It would probably get infected.

With a minor burst from his magic, Harry pushed the bullet wound out of his shoulder, his teeth grit slightly as a minor stab of pain arced through him. A second later, Harry soothed the wound and healed it up with his magic, leaving nothing more than light pink scar tissue that would disappear within a day or so.

His wound now healed, Harry leaned down and picked up the bullet, bringing it to his eyes so he could examine it. Despite the blood coating it, Harry could see that it was made from a very different material than other bullets, which were usually made from lead or steel and sometimes copper. This was not made from either.

"Silver."

Harry frowned as he dropped the bullet and stood back up. He quickly walked over to the girl lying on the bed. The first thing he noted was that she was pale, very pale. Her skin was so white that it almost looked translucent.

At least, what skin he could see. Much of her body was covered in blood. Surprisingly enough, except for a single puncture wound on her neck that was still bleeding pretty badly and looked like it had just barely missed anything vital, she did not look like she had any wounds at all.

She was also absolutely gorgeous, Harry noted almost clinically. Her face, though pale, had very aristocratic and fair features, like a princess of some kind. High cheeks bones that were softened by her heart shaped face, a small nose, thick eyelashes and full lips painted an almost blood red created a vision of beauty that was only exceeded by Perenelle. The raven colored hair framing her face like some kind of darkened halo only added an aura of mystery to her otherwise fair features.

Her body was nothing to scoff at either. He could see the supple yet powerful leg muscles of her thighs and calfs, the deceptive hint of muscles in her slender arms and the definition in her stomach that was hidden under what very little fatty tissue she had. Between that and her lithe waist and well developing bust, she was definitely one of those girls who most teenage males would place under the 'erotic' category he had read about in magazines. At a guess, he would place her age at around maybe fourteen years old.

Reaching out, Harry placed a hand on her neck to check for a pulse. Those guys had said she was dead, but they had also said she was an 'abomination' as well. He didn't really know what that meant, but figured there was something unusual about her. The reason they were chasing her, perhaps.

He was surprised by how warm her skin was. It wasn't exceedingly hot or anything, but considering she was supposed to be dead her body was surprisingly warm. Though that could be because they had just killed her recently. Maybe.

It was only a few seconds after he put his index and middle finger over her pulse point that something shocking happened.

The girl, who he was fairly sure had not been breathing moments ago, gasped loudly. Before Harry could pull his hand away in surprise, her eyes shot wide open just as one of her hands flew up and grabbed onto his with a titan grip. Harry would have tried to remove his wrist from her grip, but found himself too surprised to do anything more than gape.

Silvery-blue eyes with a strange glow darted around the room, confused and frightened as they looked for something, the two men Harry assumed, before landing on him. Those eyes looked at him for several moments, fear leaving for only confusion.

Just as quickly as the eyes had opened, they fluttered closed, and the hand gripping Harry's went limp and fell back onto the bed. It was only after the girl went unconscious again that the young raven haired boy realized something very important.

He had no idea what to do now. There were three dead people in this room, two Italian men and a young teenage female who was apparently not as dead as he thought she was. Not only that, but the evidence of a struggle was obvious. There were blood marks all over the room, a table stained with blood had been turned over, and the bed had even more blood stains on it. Then there was...

Harry looked down at the two men he had killed, grimacing. It would be obvious to anyone with basic skills in observation that they had been killed by an animal. You just couldn't make slash marks like that unless you were Freddy Krueger.

Or some kind of large predatory feline.

Biting his lip, Harry's mind worked overtime to think of what he should do. First, he needed to get rid of the bodies. Would disintegration, or vanishing as he learned it was called, work on a human? He didn't sense any latent magic in them, so their magic resistance would be null, but they were also humans, their anatomy was far more complex than that of, say, a piece of paper.

If only he was further along in his studies of alchemy he could probably find some way to transmute them into something else. Alas, he was still stuck on his second Transmutation Circle, which would probably be far less complex than one that could transmute a human being.

What should he do?

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the situation was taken out of his hands when the sound of thumping feet reached his ears. Someone was coming. No. Several someones. Harry counted no more than one, two, three, six people running down the hall, their thumping feet getting louder.

The police? Maybe?

Whatever the case, he couldn't stay here. Harry looked around, quickly deciding on what he should do with so little time.

Grabbing the girl as he had no desire to leave her there for someone else to find, especially as she appeared to be alive in some strange sense even though she did not have a pulse, Harry activated the portkey he had been given by Nicolas Flamel so that he could return to the man's estate each day for his lessons.

"Alchemy!"

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