This story is dedicated to the author of 'Rise from the Ashes', Karaii because her story gave me the idea somehow even though it's hardly identical to it.
Harry James Potter is dead. After killing Voldemort and, being drained of life force, died as well. However, being a hero has more pros than Harry thought. Harry is now a ghost able to physically interact with select few. He is sent to a chamber where he must choose his next adventure, and aid those he love that play the major role. Which universe will Harry choose?
R for language, child abuse, torture and rape. Also a dash of one sided SLASH at the beginning.
The Great Defeat
Harry James Potter let out a strangled sob as he lay on a cold, damp stone floor covered with the must of ages combined with his own blood, fresh and old. His battered body was screaming out a plea for death but his will would not allow it. He was a leader, a commander, a bloody savior! He could NOT just give in to this horrendous pain, he would NOT give him that luxury. No. Harry would never give him that satisfaction. Not in million years, after all he had been through because of him.
The damned man himself strode stealthily forward, calmly as though he was merely walking up to his best mate for a brief chat about the latest quidditch teams victory the week before. However, this man was NOT Harry's friend, if he were, he wouldn't be in a living hell as of now.
"Now, now. Don't hold back for my sake, Harry. I take pleasure in your screams," Came the maddening voice belong to the madman. "Only you…could…Tom…" Harry struggled to breathe as another cruciartus curse was shot at him. "You dare," hissed the snake like man, "To insult myself with that name!" In fact, Harry did dare. Voldemort-no-Tom Marvalo Riddle frightened him no more than a newborn baby. /Then again…/ Harry thought, mentally smirking. / Baby's can be quite…dangerous./ Who else should no better than he, the one who banished the darkest wizard since Grindlewauld himself at the age of one.
"I think another lesson will be in order, however," Harry did not like that cruel smile. "You are in lick, I am a busy man." /Snake/ "And am unable to teach this one student class." /Please, no/ "So I will be leaving you in the capable hands of my servants." Only Voldemort could make this punishment sound like an innocent game.
He left without another word and in came Bellatrix Lestrange. The cheeky bitch. "Oh, has the wittle baby Potter got a booboo?" She mock cooed in that irritable baby voice. Harry growled at her viciously from his spot on the stone floor of the dungeon. Shakily he raise himself onto his hands and knees. He was more determined to show zero weakness in front of Bellatrix than he was with her master.
It was Lestrange who had slit Hermione's throat with a reducter curse in her sleep. Lestrange who had crucioed the Weasely twins beyond insanity to the point of death. Her husband who had sent the killing curse that murdered everyone else he knew and loved. Only Remus had survived, though Harry was now positive he had been slaughtered as well. Screams tended to echo through out dungeons.
"Let the classes begin, Potter," Bellatrix advanced menacingly in his direction, wand aimed at his face. She crucioed him for several minutes. It did not matter though, her unforgivable curses were dull in comparison to her Lord's. And Harry had a plan today. He had been storing his magic force for a good month (Having been captured for 5 months), though at the expense of his physical condition by not using it to heal himself. Dumbledores knowledge and advise would pay off TODAY. Not tomorrow, nor the next day or the day after that. He knew he would not live that long, Voldemort defeated or no.
Another cruciartus hit Harry, square in the chest this time, he faked an ear splitting scream and, while Bellatrix was busy cackling, he ran at her. Though clumsy, he was fast enough to dodge the stunning spell she shot at him and slammed his fist down on the pressure point at her neck, causing her to go limp and fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. Harry pounded his sore, bare feet up the crumbling stair case and down the halls.
Harry thought he was lost until he heard the familiar snaky voice that belonged to his arch nemesis on the door to his left, shouting at the top of his lungs at a most likely terrified death eater. Shouting, hissing, trembling voice, shouting again, another hiss and then a silent whimper. Silence. Harsh whispering and then, at a regular volume, a dismissal. The death eater in question headed toward the door. Harry's door. Jumping aside Harry merged into the shadows in the hall and stood rigidly.
The cloaked figure left the room with a limp and slightly blood stained robes. Harry knew it was not his own blood. He had learned long ago that the death eaters only washed their own blood from their clothing, other people's blood was almost like a Medal of Honor. This man was apparently a rookie as their was so little covering him.
Now was his chance. Dumbledore and he had formulated a plan a year ago before Harry's graduation. Harry had gone through strenuous training for this. It would not be for nothing.
Harry strode inside the room, hiding the pain that struck in his back, and calmly walked toward Voldemort's throne. Voldemort looked at him, his eyes filled with-glee? /What's going on? He should be royally pissed that I've escaped/ But the fact was, Riddle was not royally pissed but quite excited it looked.
"I was expecting you to free yourself," he purred huskily. "I am aware you are not weak." Harry fought the impulse to step back and run. Something was NOT right. Voldemort did not sound like this, did he? "You could be great, you know." He drawled, crimson eyes filled with lust trained on him. "All you need is a boost. Join me, Harry. The light is fading, why not join the dark before hand. You'd second, my equal." Tom Riddle had approached him, Harry flinched visibly as the bony, white fingers traced his his jaw line. Harry tore his face from Riddle's grasp and snarled, "Don't touch me, you bastard. I will never, EVER join you!" This did not settle well with the Dark Lord as he frowned angrily.
Before Voldemort had a chance to say anything, an enormous basilisk stood before him, hissing and spitting in rage. Their eyes locked for several moments until Voldemort felt a strange feeling in his body. It felt like everything was getting cold, his vision was blurring into a haze of darkness. He wouldn't go! No! Not yet! The basilisk was tired, he could tell, maybe if he could kill it, he wouldn't die. Just before he felt himself falling, he shouted, "Avarda Kedavra!" The flash of green light hit the basilisk before it could move, being so close to the caster. The unforgivable struck, just as the Dark Lord hit the floor, dead.
Personally, I really like this, and I even have the next chapter planned out, might do it tomorrow. Or actually, it is tomorrow!Hehe! It's midnight! Oops! So, Guess I'll be doing the next chapter today!