Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ Veneficus, Draconis, et Fetialis ❯ Dreissig Silbermunzen ( Prologue )

Ack! Another crossover is coming to the Hellsing Archives! But this time. . . .it's fully feasible.

Yes, you heard me correctly. There is no dimension travel, no ooc-ness, and no leaving England or continental Europe.

So starts yet another Hellsing/Harry Potter crossover.

This is a collaborative work by KharBevNor and myself, and most of the credit should be given to Khar for sparking the creativity during an rpg, and thanks again to him for just being an all around grand person.

Khar and I don't own Hellsing or HP. If we did, well, *chuckles*

Anyway, read, enjoy, and review. We'll both love you if you do. ^_^

~*~*~*~*~*~

August was unseasonably warm in Lucerne this year, and the middle aged grey haired clergyman dabbed beads of perspiration from his forehead with a white handkerchief pulled from his trouser pocket, which was quickly returned from whence it came. All around the streets large pink flowers that were in bloom began to sag and wither away in the midday sun and the beloved edelweiss gave up their sweet scent in the humidity so that the air was now almost sickening as it was breathed in.

This was enough to make any sane man or woman retreat to the confines of their air conditioned homes or to splash lazily in the lakes and personal swimming pools. Only those that had urgent business meandered through the city's streets as they completed whatever mundane tasks they were forced to endure. No one wanted to be in the sweltering heat, not even the foreign priest.

But Father Enrico Maxwell was on a mission. It was not technically from God, per se, but soon, because of a new benefactor, Iscariot would cleanse the world of a problem even more terrible than the vampire.

Black magicians were being trained in England. These were not the mundane FREAK implanted humans that wished to gain powers of the supernatural or halfling vampires that had minor control over the other realm.

No, these were true magicians- the witches and wizards confronted in the darkest days of the Middle Ages. How could the Vatican and Section Thirteen have allowed such filth to reign supreme in its own godless sphere when they had always employed the technology to defeat demonic creatures?

And if all else failed, a blitzkrieg-like sweep upon their clans would be enough to finish the task of sending their souls to hell. In this way, no other generations could be polluted with the nonsense of the black and neutral magics.

Just two weeks prior, Father Maxwell was sitting in his office sipping an espresso and listening to Mozart, blissfully unaware of the dangers lurking near his continent.

He had nearly fainted upon the discovery of the papers that Father Ronaldo placed on hid desk, describing the completely magical town of Hogsmeade, the school known as Hogwarts, and worst of all, that Hellsing and England actually allowed a Ministry of Magic to exist and serve with the Knights of the Round Table!

It was just another incidence of the Protestant bitch's idiocy and lenience toward the godless beings in her realm.

The benefactor insisted that he would pay the Catholics thirty million pounds in pure gold bullion if they could purge this monstrosity of an academy from the world in a Spanish Inquisition style massacre. Nothing was to remain, save for the true believers of Christ Jesus, the Lord in Heaven.

How could Maxwell refuse such a task? Father Anderson was already talented in the Holy magics, and it had been simple enough task for the paladin to train both Heinkel and Yumiko to utilize such weapons. The mission would be easy for those three to complete.

Stepping in to the air conditioned bank, Father Maxwell moved to the line still holding the account number that the benefactor had given him to use for the transaction. Thirty million pounds would convert to many more Euros, so he would have to be absolutely certain to take some of the money for his own benefit. After all, he deserved such an award for being the leader of the non-human hunting organization.

He sighed, impatiently waiting for the next available teller. God would favor him for purging the world of the mockery of His Holy presence.

It was now up to Anderson and his squadron of elite soldiers.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The populace of Hogsmeade did not know what was happening as the first bullets and blessed blades rained down upon their peaceful city, striking down dozens of unsuspecting witches and wizards as they walked along the streets heading to and from the shops that lined the main causeway.

Muggle weapons should never have been allowed to pass through the magical curtain used to repel those who were not eligible to enter the city. Panic soon descended like a dark cloud upon the denizens as they rushed to grasp their wands, crying out spells that were sent off in all directions in the hopes that the invisible attacker would be hit.

This terrible onslaught must be the work of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Death Eaters, or so the screaming witches and wizards yelled to each other as they realized what was happening. The panic now grew to near-hysteric levels as mothers shuffled their children inside shops, and men called to each other in a hope to rally against this evil force.

Spells were striking too near the hiding places of the three Iscariot members. Soon, the heathens would discover the instigators of the cleansing, and the three Holy warriors would be killed. With a nod, Anderson gave the silent command to Yumie and Heinkel.

In an instant, pages of scripture flew across the town, affixing themselves to every door and window, blocking most every incantation and spell that could prove useful for the townspeople in this situation.

Only the most pure of the white magics could be called upon, and while most spells used by the populace were not harmful, they were just general spells with no meaning attached to a higher power. Only the God of the Catholics and the magics called upon in his name would prove useful.

Some noticed the shielding of magic came from the pages pinned all around the city, and those frantically ripped at the sheets, tearing them from the walls in the hope some useful magic would return. But as soon as one leaf of paper was removed, another would take its place.

The witches and wizards were too stunned by their brooms not flying, their wands not being able to shoot any disarming or shielding spells, and that they could not even apparate, to notice the three figures descending the hill at an incredible speed.

Anderson's grin was as feral as Yumie's as they charged from the Shrieking Shack, and both blade wielding clerics easily sliced through any person standing near enough for a blessed blade to reach its target. Almost instantly, thirty men that were trying to remove the blessed scriptures from the buildings were cut in half.

The witches and wizards realized that without their magic, they had no chance in stopping the foreigners. Instead, they ran to the buildings, hiding from the onslaught.

Heinkel remained calm as she jogged down the hill, shooting her targets from a distance, making certain to mock those that screamed curses as she easily killed the unarmed magical creatures. She had researched magical creatures in her studies of the arcane scriptures written alongside the Gnostic Gospels and throughout the Middle Ages, and in her mind she continued to make note of each and every goblin, elf, miniature troll, and whatever else her bullets passed through. This was quite fun.

But they were all running inside, where the wizards would have the advantage.

"Yumie! It's time to flush out the rats!"

Another witch screamed as she watched what must be her lover fall dead on the pavement due to Heinkel's blessed bullets, bullets that should have been used for killing vampires or other filth, but instead were striking a mortal, albeit a strange mortal, dead. The witch pulled her wand, pointing it at the short haired blond woman in priest's vestments, shouting every possible spell she could think of, but to no avail. These- she didn't know if they were wizards or muggles- had found a way to block magic.

Falling to her knees, the witch knew she was about to die, and the knowledge of such an event was too much for her to handle.

The witch shrieked as she felt the warm metal of the Volcano rest upon her temple as she leaned over her lover's body, sobbing hysterically as she awaited her death.

The click of the hammer pulling back elicited another whimper from the woman's throat, and the witch did the only thing she could think to do at a moment such as this.

"Please, God, spare me. . . ."

Heinkel stopped, stepping away from the witch. "What did you say?"

The witch was still shaking as she looked up at the Vatican agent, caught in her personal hell while the city around her now smelled of burning wood and flesh. The one named Yumie must have started many large fires somehow. "I. . . .I asked God to. . . . to spare me."

Heinkel smirked. "Which God do you speak of?" The Volcano was still pointed at the woman's head, and her finger was still on the trigger.

"J-Jesus?"

It was a question. The woman was obviously intelligent enough to notice the crucifix hanging on a chain resting between Heinkel's breasts.

The cleric chuckled. "If you are not lying, he will forgive the sins you have committed by living the heresy of witchcraft."

Blood and tissue splattered across the windows of the Three Broomsticks as the bullet passed cleanly through the woman's skull, killing her instantly. Another heretical soul was now roasting in the depths of hell, leaving Heinkel trembling with pleasure.

The fires were blazing out of control now, passing quickly from rooftop to rooftop, engulfing everything in its path. The destruction had been ordered to be as complete as the three Iscariot agents could manage, and it seemed as if their task would be complete very soon.

Dead bodies lined the streets, and the blood spilled on the ground was now beginning to reek in the midday August sun. Someone would find the town's ruins soon enough, but why shouldn't the agents have a little more fun while they were here?

"Wolfe!" Anderson yelled as he broke another bale of straw that he found in the Shrieking Shack, tossing the flakes around an obvious dwelling place, though garish in its heathenistic way. "Get the petrol so we can really get this bonfire going!"

Without acknowledgment, Heinkel walked back to the place just behind the Shrieking Shack where the three had stored their equipment, grabbing four cans of petrol in her hands as she walked toward the buildings that were not already burning, stepping inside to spread the catalyst on the floors and walls before grabbing a bottle of some sort of liquor and shoving a towel in the neck before lighting it on fire, tossing it toward the back of the building as she exited the bar.

From inside, the witches and wizards just watched her, terrified to move for fear of death by one of her blessed bullets. They were without magic, even indoors- Heinkel was surprised that the barrier could be as strong as it now was.

The firebomb exploded on contact, breaking the windows as the flames roared larger than the fires created by the other two members of the team.

Inside, the patrons and those hiding from the wrath of the Iscariot members did not even have a chance for escape, and their screams of terror and pain roared through the air. If Heinkel cared about those not strong in the Catholic Traditions, she may have felt remorse for killing so many people, but those agents of Lucifer himself deserved their fate.

She looked around the city as she walked back toward the Shrieking Shack, hoping to understand what was really happening. Hundreds, if not thousands, of heathens lay dead in the streets, and those that were now emerging to the streets because of the fires were easy targets for Yumie and her blade. Women, children, and the elderly had all perished, and rightly so; they practiced magic. God did not like the supernatural, and that is how it would always be.

Anderson was now carrying more petrol to the stone structures that were just smoldering as the fires reached them, dousing their innards with the terrible liquid before tossing another firebomb inside.

Every building now burned, and no more witches and wizards were running to the streets in the hopes that their lives would be spared. The town would be a pile of rubble tomorrow, smelling of roast flesh and newly started decay, and soon, someone would notice that something terrible had just occurred in the town near the large castle. Once the fires were noticed, officials would arrive and question all those that may survive as to what happened and who caused such a disaster.

It was time for Iscariot to leave.

With a smile, Heinkel whispered a Profession of Faith in her native tongue, joining Father Anderson and Sister Yumiko as they headed up the sloping hills, where they would soon come to a church in the next village that would offer them refuge until their journey back to Vatican City.

This was a grand day for Iscariot.