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Atrum Venom
By: xxlostdreamerx
Disclaimer: No, I do not own HP.
A/N: Now, haven't we all read and love those fics where Harry, the o' so golden hero, is sent back in time or to an alternate dimension? The kind where Harry's all noble and that rot. Clichéd, no? Well, here's a new an improved spin to top that age of theory of dimension and time travel. Pre-HBP.
Summary: What if from a distant dimension, one Harry Potter - the heir and key enforcer of the Dark Lord, is sent into the HP world that we know and love? No Slash.
Ch 1: Lost Dream
Revenge is best served cold...
He could feel it in his bones - the deep biting chill of anticipation and fear. Danger was like second nature to him. It was his friend, his only constant companion. Harry's lips curled into a feral smile. And by the gods did he love it!
The thrill of putting his life on the line was...intoxicating, to say the least. There was no time for second thoughts, no time for regrets, or what ifs. It was a life lived only by the crème de crème of the Dark Lords inner circle. It was a life that Harry had taken upon himself without a moment of hesitation.
It was also, he grimaced, a life on the road.
In his whole thirteen years as the Dark Lord's prized protégé, Harry had never spent more than a week tops in the same region. He was always on the move - may it be from capturing Order members, spying, or collecting rare magical artifacts for his Master.
Harry's lips curled. Though, he had to admit, the benefits outweighed the bad.
"M'lord, t-the Ministry is awaiting your presence," stuttered one of his inner circle Death Eaters, as he looked down at the ground purposely to avoid meeting Harry's eyes. "They have just surrendered and are waiting for your the terms."
The eighteen year old raised a mocking eyebrow. "The entire lot of them are fools," he said scornfully. "They offer me nothing and yet they dare demand my presence?"
The Death Eater trembled beneath the boy's icy emerald green glare. The Dark Lord's heir was cruel beyond belief, so much that he could scare his very own subordinates with just a glance. The Death Eater shivered once again. It was often said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. But...if such a notion proved true, then the boy was soulless. Even the most skilled interrogator couldn't detect even a flicker of emotion in the boy's eyes.
They were frozen and dead.
As much as he loathed to admit it, but the boy scared him more than the Dark Lord. Heir or no, it was common knowledge among the Death Eater ranks that the Potter boy was stronger than Voldemort in both skill and power. What puzzled him to no end was why the Potter boy had yet to destroy his mentor and take his place as the leader of the wizarding world. The boy was strong enough, yes. But did the boy possess enough inner strength to murderer the only closest thing he had to a parent?
"Kill them," the boy ordered emotionlessly, his eyes never once wavering. "Tonight will be our lord's final victory against the Light," he announced sounding slightly bored, "Take no prisoners. Kill everyone on sight." Harry paused for a moment as he reaching a decision. "And if you so wish, torture them."
The squad of Death Eaters bowed deeply to Harry, before marching off towards the towering building abet a bit hastily. After all, torturing Mudblood was of course preferable to staying with the cold-blooded heir.
Harry rolled his eyes as he heard the beginnings of a bloodcurdling scream. 'Fucking fools,' he spat in disgust. 'Couldn't they be a bit more quiet?' Slowly making his way through the hall of mutilated bodies, Harry was stopped by a bloodied hand tugging on his robes.
"H-Help m-me..." whispered the child imploringly, as he stared up at Harry with trusting golden brown eyes. "H-Hurts..."
Harry's lips curled into a sneer. "Filth," he spat darkly, as he pulled his robes away from the child's grasp. Making sure to step on the child's hand, which elicited a scream of pain, Harry continued his journey. The child was going to die sooner or later. No point wasting a curse on the dead.
"Sing to me my sweet, the light shall protect you when all is lost."
Something flickered in his chest, causing his heart to beat faster. Harry snarled as the twinge of guilt and conscience tickled the very corners of his mind. Ah, he would have been so disappointed to see Harry as he was right now- reduced to nothing but a heartless murderer.
"Fight until your last dying breath. Do not give up. Promise me..."
Harry harshly shoved aside his thoughts. There was not point dwelling upon the past, for there is no spell that could wake the dead. And, he added, he didn't want to face his old protector again - he didn't want to see disappointment or even hatred in the man's face.
It...would hurt. Terribly so.
And that was what Harry hated about the entire affair. He did not want to feel. According to the Dark Lord, emotions made you weak. Emotions would confused and hound you until your dying day, for there was no escape for such emotional people. And over time, he concluded, such feelings of guilt and pain would eventually swallow you whole.
Harry's eyebrow twitched in annoyance, as he quickened his pace. Now was not the time to dwell on such things. He had a mission to accomplish. He took a deep breath and released it, all the while focusing on his mind. It was a mess, so to speak. He had neglected to sort his memory over the past month due to all his reminiscing about the past. But now, he needed to calm down.
With years of practice, in an instant Harry sharpened his mind, focusing upon only the mission at hand. And with it, his doubts and emotions disappeared allowing him to focus upon his task.
A task that involved the infiltration of the Departments of Mysteries for the secret weapon - code name: L.O.V.E. Harry's lips curled into a disdainful sneer at the name. Couldn't the Light come up with something that even bordered upon originality?
Doubtful.
Especially with the eccentric Aberforth Dumbledore in charge of the Order of Phoenix. The old man was...strange, crazy for the matter. After all, who in their right mind would dare openly challenge the Dark Lord and expect to survive? Defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald or no, Aberforth Dumbledore was by no means capable of handling the might of the Dark Lord.
Though Harry had to admit, had the elder Dumbledore been a few decades younger, he might have been able to give Voldemort a run for his money. But alas, fate had an annoying tendency to show up and kick your ass when you least expect it. The Light side was doomed to fall, there simply wasn't any other alternative. Aberforth Dumbledore had just about reached the end of his extremely long life.
And with his death, the Light side would fall apart.
Or so he and the Dark Lord had originally thought. Over the past few months as a spy, Harry had caught snippets of conversations and memories all revolving around a single topic - the Light weapon LOVE. Try as he may, Harry hadn't been able to uncover the true origins and powers of said weapon. As far as he knew, it was some sort of magical device or weapon with enough power to destroy the Dark Lord. Harry's eyes narrowed in concentration as he quickened his pace. But, what was it?
L.O.V.E, that is.
Could it be nothing more than a hair-brain plot of Dumbledore's? Or was it something else? Harry sighed as he finally entered the Department of Mysteries. Well, he could only wait and find out.
X
The defense and control room had been destroyed.
"Mother Circe," Fudge whispered in horror, as he watched the Dark Heir blast apart their defenses without pause. A cold sweat trickled down his face, as he peaked out his window hopefully only to catch sight of a mass of black.
Death Eaters.
The entire Ministry was surrounded. Fudge's fingers clenched painfully about his wand, as he forced himself to not panic. He was at least four stories above the Dark Heir and the rest of the Death Eaters... surely he could escape, right?
Maybe?
Probably?
He sighed. Highly doubtful was probably the word he was looking for. No matter how he looked at it, he was as dead as a doornail.
Once again, Fudge cursed Aberforth Dumbledore once again for placing such a dangerous item within his ministry. He had shouted, screamed, and even, god-forbid, begged the man to reconsider his decision, but that pompous fool had refused. Dumbledore believed that the so called 'weapon' would be safer here than at Hogwarts.
A smug look crossed Fudge's face. 'Serves the bastard right,' he thought nastily. 'I told him that You-Know-Who or the Dark Heir would be able to steal it here.'
Crack.
Fudge froze, his beady little eyes darting towards his now splintering door. 'Dammit,' he cursed softly, as he all but threw himself at the window. Images of his wife and child flashed across his mind, as he pried furiously at the window frame.
It didn't budge.
"Reducto," he shouted, pointing his mahogany wand directly towards the window. Fudge cursed once again, as he tried to pull himself through the hole; damn, it was too small. "Reducto..." he repeated desperately, as he focused all his magic into the spell.
A jet of red light emerged from his wand, blasting a thicker hole through the magic-proof window. Fudge shook with fatigue and relief, as he pulled himself up onto the ledge...before he heard his door break down.
"Avada Ked..."
Fudge stared into those pitiless pair of ebony black eyes, before the jet of green light hit him straight on.
Mission Accomplished.
X
The Veil of Death.
A wry smile crossed his handsome face, causing his emerald green eyes to glow eerily. It seemed almost...fitting that he, the Dark Heir, would have such a close affinity to Death. Rockwood, the Death Eater spy on the Ministry, had informed them in the past that only those who have sinned beyond words were drawn to the veil. There have been many speculations in the past about where the veil lead to, but alas, no solid evidence had ever been procured. After all, no one who had entered had ever been able to return.
Harry's smile turned cold, as he came to a halt a mere foot away from the veil. His fingers teased the edges of the transparent veil. A hint of amusement crept into his eyes as he noticed that his entire right hand had turned ghostly white and was on the verge of disappearing. Yes...so his hypothesis had been correct.
The Veil of Death was perhaps the best yet most unexpected hiding place for the Light weapon L.O.V.E. Harry grinned at the irony, as he jerked the veil back in one swift move...
...and cursed.
A simple pale unadorned wooden wall stood before him. There was no weapon, no secret doors, no nothing. Harry's lips curled into a wordless snarl. They couldn't have been wrong! His father and he had spent months in advance researching the so called Veil of Death! Harry slammed his fist against the wall, only to hit...air?
Harry's emerald green eyes narrowed in confusion. Why... He blinked again, as the entire scene changed in one swift motion. He was no longer standing in front of an innocently blank wall; instead, he was standing in a particularly familiar bedroom...
"No, please, not Harry!" a woman screamed shrilly, as shrank away from the dark haired demon with ruby red eyes. "Leave him! Please, he is only a child!"
The dark man frowned. "Leave the child, girl, and I will let you live."
"No...not Harry."
All the while, Harry watched the scene with mounting confusion. What in the name of hell was going on! The red-head had an uncanny resemblance to his late mother, but...it couldn't have been her could it? His mother and father had hated him since the day his power emerged; hated him for something that he couldn't control. A burning ember of hate grew in his stomach, as long-suppressed emotions flared onto the surface. May the gods be damned, he hated that bloody bitch.
"Avada Keda-"
It was at this particular moment, Harry felt himself being...consumed? It felt like as if he was falling into a chasm of darkness; it felt like as if he was dying. Harry closed his eyes, giving in to the sweet song of death.
Only to find out that Death was not for one as evil as him.
Baby Harry's jaded emerald green eyes flared open with power, and almost a second later a jet of pure green light struck the baby on the forehead. Such a cut and curse should have killed for sure, but alas, things are not always as they seem. Especially when one Harry James Potter was concerned.
The Killing Curse reflected back upon the owner, shattering Lord Voldemort's soul and body.
It was at this very moment, the legend of our young boy hero was born. However, what the wizarding world did not see was the intelligent, calculating glance in the baby's jaded emerald green eyes. Always watching...waiting...until the perfect moment to strike.
Young Harry James Potter, the prized protegee of Lord Voldemort, had been given a second chance at life.
A/N: Love or Hate? Dang, it seems like I'm updating alot of stories today. First Darkly Treacherous and now this. I'm also almost done with my Icy Destiny and another new fic that I wrote. sigh oh well, I hope you liked it. Don't forget to review! -
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