Friend of Lord Voldemort
Summary: Alexander Viator is back in the game, and he's planning for a big surprise.
Pairing/s: None. It may be some implied, but nothing for real.
Warnings: Blood and violence. Some slight slash. And cuddly Voldemort, but I don't think that's really a warning (maybe more like a shock?)
Disclaimers: Don't own Harry Potter.
The sequel to The Truth Behind Evil, enjoy!
Alexander Viator is Harry Potter
Emotions tore through his mind, fuelling his hatred, helping him keep his mind together. The pain was unbearable. Avada Kedavra definitely hurt more than a Crucio. Not that anyone could actually inform the living about that, since most people usually died because of it. Except for himself, of course. Or should he say, as usual? Just as the pain was taking over everything, both body and mind, memories started to flash by as if trying to protect his fragile sanity.
"Are you crazy?"
"No, that was when I was fifteen."
"There is no good or evil, Tom. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it."
"Over my dead body."
Green light. He was going to die.
A child-scream. Tom. Hand stretched out. Don't want to die.
I. Don't. Want. To. Die.
Everyone… I'm sorry
Alexander Viator was thrown violently to the ground, and he screamed in pain at the impact. His right arm broke at the fall and he bit his lip bloody. A strange crack came from his left hip, making him force himself lying as still as he could. His breaths came hard and painfully. He had the strange feeling of blood running down his cheeks from his eyes but he was in too much pain to wipe them away. Finally he had regained some sort of order in his spinning head and dragged his wand out with his left arm.
"Tempus", he whispered.
He looked at the numbers forming and groaned. The throbbing pain in his hip made his groan sound more like a pathetic moan.
"Can't I do something right?" he muttered after a while.
It said 19th of October 1984. He was over 12 years too early.
Dumbledore looked up sharply. He had been writing some letters to Fudge, the Minister, with plans and ideas of how to run the Ministry. The poor man was so easy to trick, and the headmaster did the most of it. So what could have distracted him from that task? And more importantly, how was the man sitting free, in Hogwarts, being the headmaster, when he had killed a student on the grounds in 1941?
He had used his old manipulating ways of course, quite successfully, and convinced the Ministry Alexander Viator had been a killer, and that the teen had threatened many of the Gryffindors. After that all charges from him about the murder had been dropped. He was rather proud of that success, but now he felt strange.
There had been a change in the atmosphere, somewhere not too far from the castle. He could feel it fine, since he was one of the strongest wizards alive. According to himself of course. But at the moment he did not feel that strong. Instead, he had the dreading feeling that something was very, very wrong.
Alexander had no idea how long he had been lying on the ground, but he finally had enough energy to rise to his knees. He dragged himself up to a sitting position, ignoring the now screaming hip and looked around. A graveyard. He blinked, trying to get the blood away from his eyes and they shifted onto the grave right in front of himself. First he was utterly still, thinking how fate must hate him. Absolutely hate him. Despising him, kicking him while he was still on the ground, laughing right into his face… you name it.
Real tears mixed with the blood. He never noticed. He stopped feeling the pain from his hip. He never noticed that either. A scream tore from his throat, unintentionally but it still came. His heart broke, his mind shattered. On the grave it stood with cold letters:
1924 – 1982
Loved husband, dear father, loyal friend
Hatred is born from a pure heart. Hatred caused by the Light made him a monster. May he find peace in death.
There is no good or evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. You were right, Alex. No one will ever doubt your words.
Fate hated him. Alexander fell to the ground, screaming out with the knowledge the gentle blonde-haired teen he had grown to love as a little brother would forever be gone.
Abel Kimmer-Letum looked up sharply from the book he was reading at his mother's house. He looked like any noble vampire, despite being a Halfling among the other vampires. His white hair, reaching to his waist, was braided on each side of his skull in a sort of warrior-look and still allowing the hair to spill over his shoulders elegantly. He still had his deep, violet-blue eyes and pale skin. He was dressed in a normal white shirt, and some black pants. His mother and brother looked up at him as his eyes widened.
"What's wrong?" his mother, Lelima, asked. She had pale blonde hair down to her waist and the same eyes as him. She was dressed in a stylish rococo dress, looking like she was dressed for a ball. His brother Cain was dressed in a similar fashion as Abel, and even had the same hairstyle. But his eyes were brown, like his father.
"It can't be", Abel whispered. The book dropped onto the ground. He was up before Lelima or Cain could react.
His long legs carried him down the stairs, his mother and brother following. The white hair was flying, his arms shaking though he never noticed that. He ran through the house, his mind racing, working overtime with the possibilities. He could not believe it! This simply was not happening!
"Abel!" Cain shouted, worried. His brother had never acted his way before, not even when he had lost the only friend he had in Hogwarts, Alexander Viator. "Abel, calm down!"
The half-vampire tore the entrance doors open, panting and eyes wider than ever.
"Abel, explain yourself right this moment!" his mother said, worried since he had never refused to answer her.
Abel wasn't listening. His eyes were set on the figure standing around sixty feet from the house. Lelima and Cain registered him now as well.
"Who is that?" his mother asked.
The pale head lifted from the ground and locked eyes with Abel. Raven hair fell into his face but a shake took the locks away. Icy blue eyes looked tired, and stricken with sorrow. There were trails of blood and tears on his cheeks, his right arm bent wrong and he was leaning onto his right hip. The half-vampire could hear his mother and brother gasp but for him it was the most beautiful sight in the world, despite the blood and tears. He did not even care that the man standing there was injured; the main part was that he was alive.
"Tears of blood?" Cain said.
"Alex", the half-vampire whispered, before starting to run.
The teen stared at Abel. It felt like everything was alright now, because there was still somewhere there who could help him. And he had wanted to see the half-vampire, because Abel had always been able to understand even the strangest things. Alexander's knees buckled, finally giving up the struggle. His whole body was too tired to function. His hip screamed in protest as he went down and the raven-haired teen collapsed into the half-vampire's arms.
"Alex!" Abel screamed.
"Who is it?" Lelima said, as she and Abel's brother had hurried after him.
"You're supposed to be dead", Abel continued, softly, as he stared into icy blue eyes laced with blood. "You died."
"An Avada Kedavra isn't enough to kill me", the teen whispered. "Though I think my hip and arm are broken. Nice to see you again by the way, Abel."
"Why did you pick me? You must have someone else to go to."
"That's what it's about. Fate hates me and comes to laugh in my face", Alexander said. "You were the only I knew definitely where the hell you were."
"What do you mean?" the half-vampire said, ignoring the fact his mother and brother heard them.
"I landed in front of Abraxas' grave", Alexander said softly. "I can't feel Tom anymore. Theo and John… don't know about them, but the rest is dead. Carmilla… Azkaban. Why is she there?"
"She killed people."
"Everyone in Azkaban has. Why did she kill?"
"They killed Millie."
"Is Tom dead as well?"
"I don't know", Abel said. "Please, I don't know. Just let me get you inside, and you'll tell me exactly how you survived the killing curse."
Carmilla's closed eyes now snapped open. She rose up, suddenly, so suddenly the Dementor floating past her cell cowered back. Bellatrix Lestrange looked up and said:
"What are you doing? You're just making them alert." With them, the woman was speaking about the Dementors.
"He's alive", Carmilla said, her voice clear and dreamy. Bellatrix wondered if the woman was insane. But then again, everyone became insane after a while in this place.
"Who's alive?" Bellatrix continued, not wanting to stop talking. Talking seemed to make Dementors go away, if only for a little while.
"Him", Carmilla said and smiled. The younger woman saw perfect white teeth. Carmilla swept a lock of her violet hair back and continued, "The man who made the Dark Lord is alive."
'The man who made the Dark Lord?'
Theodore Nott Senior looked up from his parchment. His son looked at him, amused.
"Father!" Alexander Nott said with a smile. "Stop day-dreaming."
His father didn't notice; instead his eyes gained the far-away look his son had come to hate. Theodore Senior apparently remembered a person he held very dear, and who had been murdered back when the man was only seventeen. Alexander became worried.
"This isn't happening", the man whispered, his face pale and without wrinkles. Despite being rather old, Theo still looked like he was an older brother to his son.
But right at that moment, Theo was scaring his son.
"What is it?" Alexander said.
Theo rushed up and with a bolt he ran for the door.
Theo came to the living room only to have one John Parkinson stepping inside. The man's eyes were wide and John took the words from his mouth:
"Can you feel him too?"
"Yeah", Theo said. "I don't know from where, but I think Abel's house."
"Abel? Why him?"
"I don't know. But we're going to check, alright?"
John nodded. Over the years, he hadn't changed much from his looks as well. His daughter always complained everyone thought John was her elder brother while he in fact was her father. But at that moment, he looked old.
Theo took his elbow and said softly:
"It's alright, John."
"But he died", the man whispered. "Alex died."
"Then we'll just make him explain how he's alive before we hit him over the head."
Abel felt their magic and sent a house-elf to collect them and bring them to the room. He then turned back to the teen lying on the bed. He was asleep at the moment, the reality finally catching up to his overworked mind. The stains of blood had been cleaned away and he was dressed in some of Abel's clothing. His right arm had been fixed, and his left hip as well. He was going to be sore for a few days, but other than that he was alright.
The half-vampire sighed, treading a hand through the teen's hair and then tracing a long finger over the tattoo. The Death Eater mark. The very first version of it had been nearly a copy of Alexander's tattoo. Then Tom, turned to Voldemort, had put a shadow of Nagini in the skull's mouth and voila, Death Eater mark created. A reminder, Voldemort had called it. And by the look of Dumbledore, the old wizard understood. And hated it.
Alexander's eyes fluttered open and Abel looked at him.
"Theo and John", the teen slurred.
"Are on their way", Abel said softly, not getting enough of just looking at the teen. He had thought Alexander was dead, and he had yet to recover from the shock of being able to see him again. "Just sent a house-elf to get them."
In the same moment, the door opened and the two men stepped inside. Abel rose up, made sure the raven-haired teen was comfortable and then walked over to the two men.
"He's tired, and a bit confused", Abel supplied.
"How?" Theo said, looking at Alexander anxiously.
"I don't know", the half-vampire said. "All I know is that an Avada Kedavra can't kill him."
"Can't kill him?" John echoed.
"We'll just have to ask him later", the half-vampire said. "I should go and explain all this to my mother and Cain."
Abel left them alone, and the two men stepped up to the bed. Alexander looked at them and said:
"Long time no see for you I guess."
"How long since you saw us?" Theo asked, his voice thick.
"A few hours ago", the teen replied, fearing tears would well up again. They were old. Older than himself. John had been in his age, and Theo one year older. Now they were old men, and Alexander was still young. He wanted to go back, he wanted to change everything.
John had while Alexander's stray thoughts made him busy carefully gotten down on the bed and now lay down to the teen's left. Theo did the same, but to the right.
"Don't 'Guys' us", Theo said, laying one arm over the teen's torso slowly and carefully. "You've been dead in our minds for a long time. You better explain, pretty one."
"I hate that nickname", Alexander said weakly.
"That's why I'm calling you just that."
Chapter one ready, and a new adventure starts!
Chapter two: Theo, John and Abel get to know how he survived, and he'll say who he really was. It will be a short chapter I think.