Title: Harry Potter; Sa'd al-bari of the Lamp
Author: Little Angel
Pairings: none right now….
Disclaimer: I own nothing!! NOTHING!! …not harry potter OR Aladdin.
Summary: What happens when Voldie decides to NOT duel Harry Potter in the grave yard, but instead invokes archaic magics that turn him into something that would bow to his every wish and command…. A genie.
Harry Potter/Aladdin Crossover….
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I seriously butchered chapters 32 and 33 of book four. I took some things here, summarized there…. Made stuff up randomly…. Most of the beginning of this will be from the book in some way shape or form. MY VARIATION comes in towards the end where Voldie is speaking with Lucius. (you'll see… (if you can make it past the butchered book four beginning…)) sheepish grin :3
Prologue: The Graveyard.
Thud. Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head.
"Where are we?" he said.
Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around.
They had left Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles - perhaps hundreds of miles - for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.
Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry.
"Did anyone tell you the cup was a portkey?" he asked…..
…..Someone was coming…. Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric…. They both turned to watch the approaching figure….
...Without warning Harry's scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on the ground and he could see nothing at all; his head was about to split open….
…"Kill the spare."
"Avada Kedavra!"….. Cedric was lying spread-eagle on the ground beside him. He was dead.
For a second that contained an eternity, Harry stared into Cedric's face, at his open grey eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised.
As he was trying to process what his eyes wouldn't believe they were seeing, he was grabbed and pulled to his feet. The man that had sent the spell at Cedric, was dragging him towards something….a grave stone… the grave of Tom Riddle.
Through the pain in his head, the denial of Cedric's death and the impossible truth of the situation, Harry dimly noted he was being tied rather tightly to the stone grave. He realized to late that his wand was not on him. He struggled briefly, but the man hit him...with a hand that was missing a finger.
THAT processed through Harry's pain fogged mind rather quickly.
The traitor didn't answer. He simply checked the chords surrounding Harry, with trembling fingers, pulled out some black cloth and stuffed it into Harry's mouth, before hurrying away.
The pain in his forehead was getting worse. He heard some hissing noises at his feet, and noticed a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone he was tied to.
There was suddenly a large cauldron in his view. Wormtail pulled the bundle of robes to the cauldron, opened them and set the…. Creature... inside. "Hurry"…..
Bone of the father…… Bones from the grave below him forcibly shot out of the ground and into the cauldron….
Flesh of the servant….. Wormtail raised his right hand above the cauldron, and with trembling fingers, cut off his own hand. Blood and flesh oozed into the cauldron. Whimpering in agonizing pain, Wormtail continued...
Blood of the enemy…. Harry felt his arm being sliced open, blood poured down into a flask…. Wormtail brought it over to the cauldron and poured it in….
There was a blinding white light, Harry's pain from the scar intensified ten fold…. Slowly a man emerged from the cauldron….
"Robe me" …….
Lord Voldemort had risen again.
Voldemort ignored the world as he slowly inspected his new body. His snake circled his feet happy to have her master returned. Wormtail whimpered pathetically off to the side, cradling the stump of his hand to his body. Harry seemed to be stuck somewhere between panic, disbelief and agonizing pain from his scar.
/Good, the less coherent he is the better this will go…/ Voldemort walked over to Wormtail, "Hold out your arm."
Wormtail raised his right arm, all the while thanking his master…
"The other arm Wormtail." Voldemort was becoming impatient. He grabbed the arm barring the dark mark, pulled the sleeve down past the elbow, and Harry saw something black and red on the skin….
Voldemort pressed a long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm.
Harry's scar seared with excruciating pain. Dimly he heard, "How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?…. And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"
The three of them waited. Voldemort paced, Wormtail crying, and Harry in pain and tied to the grave stone. Voldemort turned to Harry, and smiled cruelly. He started telling about his family… how his mother loved a muggle and his father left her when he found out her heritage… about the orphanage… and his revenge….
"Ah! But look, Harry! My true family returns…"
The air was full of Apparating wizards. They were all dressed the same… White skeleton masks and dark black cloaks and robes. Slowly they came forward, as if in disbelief of what they would find…
One Death Eater fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes. "Master...Master…" he murmured.
The others all followed suite, when they finished they were all in a large circle surrounding Harry's grave, Voldemort and Wormtail. There were gaps in the circle, but Voldemort seemed to be expecting that.
He began addressing his Death Eaters…. Talking of guilt and of loyalty, of unfaithfulness to their cause, of pleading innocence once he had fallen…. Of his disappointment….
One asked for forgiveness… Voldemort gave him pain.
He looked to Wormtail, who was begging… pleading for something…. Voldemort spoke of his help, and his reward. Silver mist slipped from Voldemort's wand. It hung in the air for a moment then molded itself into a hand and fitted onto Wormtail's bleeding wrist.
The traitor stopped sobbing abruptly, and examined his new hand with disbelief. He tested it and coward before Voldemort, praising him and the new addition to his body. He kissed his master's robes then crawled his way over to the circle.
Voldemort approached the man to Wormtail's right, "Lucius, my slippery friend," he whispered, halting before him. "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? You never did come to find me, Lucius…. Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I dare say… however, when Wormtail came to you with news from your master and a task to be completed… I wonder how you faired with that?"
It was spoken so smoothly, almost like a caress, but it hinted at unbelievable pain and torture if the task hadn't been fulfilled. Lucius took the hint and carefully unfolded a satchel from his robes.
"It is here, My Lord, all that you wished to be brought on the day of your rebirth." Lucius opened the satchel wide and raised to a level Voldemort could peer inside. The Dark Lord viewed the contents of the bag with a growing evil grin.
"And the other part of your task?" Voldemort seemed pleased with what he had achieved so far, so Lucius responded with, "You have but tell me where you would like me to set this up for you, My Lord."
Voldemort let out a hiss that sounded almost like a laugh. He gestured to the area right in front of the grave stone holding Harry, who had, to this point, been struggling to free himself and attempt to control the ongoing pain from his scar.
Malfoy didn't even glance at Harry as he quickly started carefully emptying the satchel and preparing the items inside. Harry was torn between watching was he was doing, with an deepening sense of dread and continuing to watch Voldemort circle around his Death Eaters.
"Well done Lucius. If you have done everything right, as I suspect, then you shall be greatly rewarded…. Greatly rewarded indeed." He glanced at Harry, with a terribly wicked smile that promised something very unpleasant for him in the very near future.
Voldemort continued walking around the circle, stopping occasionally to speak to a Death Eater or address one of the vacant spots. All the while he kept half an eye on what Lucius was doing.
As Voldemort finally returned to Wormtail, having completed his rotation of his Death Eaters, Lucius seemed to be finished setting up the items.
The Death Eaters were glancing at each other through their masks, all of them extremely confused by what they saw, but with enough sense not to make a big deal of it.
Lucius had poured odd looking dessert sand in a large circle, with black candles placed at seven points around it's diameter. Touching the inside of the circle where a series of lines, slashes, dots and squiggles that didn't make any sense to the Death Eaters or Harry. They were made with the blackest of sand and seemed to come alive in the light of the stars and wands, swirling like a dark ocean.
Lucius went over to Voldemort and kneeled in front of him. "I have finished My Lord."
Voldemort walked the outside of the circle, closely and carefully inspecting his servants work.
When Voldemort was satisfied by what he saw, he glanced at Lucius, "Well done Lucius. You have served me well. When we are finished with this, you will have your reward…."
Lucius kissed the helm of his Master's robs and returned to his spot in the circle, "Thank you master… you are generous… thank you…"
Voldemort took one more look at the circle and then looked toward Harry. "You. My greatest enemy. You delayed me when you were but a babe… all because of your mother's meaningless sacrifice. There was a time, that I couldn't touch you, because of it. It brought me great pain. It cost me a host…"
Voldemort walked up to Harry, careful to not touch any part of the circle at his feet, nor step inside it. He moved his hand to Harry's face and gently touched him.
Harry's world exploded in excruciating pain. He tried to uselessly move away from Voldemort's hand, but it was to no avail. The touch just moved with him.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the hand was removed and Harry's pain lessened. "You, a child that was supposed to be my greatest enemy…. You will be my most faithful servant…."
Overhead a storm seemed to be brewing.
Voldemort moved away from Harry completely, who was so warn out from it all that he just hung limply from the ropes. Blood loss, pain and exhaustion seemed to be getting the better of him.
The newly reborn Dark Lord summoned a strange looking dagger that seemed to have the same type of markings as Lucius had laid into the sand.
Voldemort went to the candle farthest away from the grave stone and knelt down. He began chanting in some archaic language unknown to any of the other people around him. When he finished, he pricked the edge of his finger with the dagger and let a drop of blood fall onto the candle.
The candle flashed up and burned a bright, blood red. The Dark Lord repeated the same process with the rest of the candles in the circle. Each one reacted exactly the same. By the time he had finished thunder was sounding and lightening was crashing in the sky. The wind had picked up, but not a single item of the circle even flickered in the storm.
"Lucius, levitate the boy away from the ropes and into the circle." Harry's eyes widened in fear. His throat dried up and his mouth felt like the cotton of the cloth still stuck there.
"Wait, remove the cloth from his mouth as well before you drop him…. I wish to hear his screams…." Voldemort had his eyes on Harry the whole time, grinning evilly as Harry struggled harder to get away.
The minute he was free from the ropes, Harry tried to get away. Unfortunately being levitated through the air, he couldn't get very far. He was shaking in fear as he was dropped into the circle. When he felt the ground beneath his side, he tried to stand.
He didn't get very far before Voldemort struck. "Now, now… there's no need for you to get up for this…." Voldemort began chanting in the same archaic language as before. The candles flared up around him in a strange dance, the odd marks of sand began to glow and Harry felt himself paralyzed on the ground.
The Boy Who Lived, whimpered, as that was the only thing he was capable of.
The candles stopped their dance and suddenly shot beams of red light straight at him. The sand began to swirl around him as well, blocking out the looming faces of the Death Eaters and Voldemort's maniac grin. However he could still hear the chanting.
Then the pain hit. Wave after excruciating wave….
The Boy Who Lived screamed and screamed. What he had felt before when Voldemort touched him was nothing compared to this. He felt like he was dying the most painful death a thousand times over. Every nerve, every bone, every bit of his being felt like it was being crushed and cracked and lit on fire.
He felt something wrap around his wrists, burning into his skin. He felt his legs twisting, swirling, attaching to something.
He felt himself being pulled somewhere. He dared not open his eyes to see what was happening….
Then finally, after what felt like an eternity of pain and impossible torture… He felt nothing.
Outside the circle, Voldemort had stopped his chanting. His Death Eaters looked on in fearful wonder. They had heard the screams of the child. And even the most cold hearted of them felt pity at the pain they had heard in his voice.
Voldemort felt nothing but happiness at his new creation. The candles had all gone out. The sand had settled. Everyone peered at where the boy had been laying moments before hand. But he wasn't there.
In the center of the circle was nothing but a golden lamp.
Voldemort's laughter rang through the night, piercing even the storm in it's intensity. He moved towards the lamp, as if to pick it up, transfixed on his creation.
"Master….?" Lucius' voice rang out… Unsure if he should be interrupting, but unable to hold back any longer.
"Silence." Voldemort stepped into the circle and knelt by the lamp. As he reached for it, a crash of lightening hit the lamp. Startled, and over powered by the force of the lightening Voldemort fell back from it and the lamp. The golden lamp began to rise off the ground and spin. The faster it went the harder it was to see.
In another blinding flash of light the lamp disappeared.
Voldemort and his followers were the only living beings left in the graveyard.
The Dark Lord's screams of fury could be heard near and far that night. They would haunt a very many people in the following nights. They promised unimaginable pain, torture, and the slowest of death's. No body would be safe from his wrath.
But, for everyone in the wizarding world, even for those who were there and witnessed the event, only one question remained….
"What in the world happened to Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived?"
+End Part One +
Okay. That's the end of the first chapter. This story is stuck in my head, so I'll be getting out the next couple of chapters rather quickly… much, MUCH faster than my other two stories…. Honest!
Fishy, and Seeing seem to be giving me a bit of writer's block. So I'm going to go with what wants to be written…. :3