"Exasperated statement: Master, we have travelled this primitive planet for twenty days, fourteen hours, twelve minutes and seven seconds, and I have not dismembered any meatbags! I fear that I may begin to suffer withdrawal symptoms."

"Not yet, HK," the Dark Lord of the Sith replied impatiently as he watched the four Force users from afar.

The group were standing outside their large building which had been concealed with the Force using their strange sticks, which somehow managed to channel the Force artificially, something that Revan previously thought impossible. Although this device was most interesting, the Sith Master had little use for such a little trinket.

Below him, the four "wizards" and "witches" were having an argument, especially the two in red robes and green robes. Actually, it seemed like the other two were merely observing, as try as they might, they could not interfere in the argument at all or make the two see reason.

As the argument escalated to a fever pitch, both the red-robed and green-robed wizards drew out swords. The Sith Lord could easily feel the power of the Force imbued in the metal of the swords, especially in the red-garbed wizard. Although Darth Revan could indeed channel the Force into objects and empower them with certain attributes, these Force users had the ability to do this permanently. Indeed, many of the abilities displayed here were unique and certainly very powerful, if he could get his hands on them. Even the True Sith themselves had no such abilities.

Nearing fifty standard years, Darth Revan's skin was pale and pasty, with dark, cobweb-like veins running through his skin. Although at first appearance it seemed frightening, at closer inspection the corruption of the Dark Side gave him a powerful physical allure, and a dark, aristocratic air. His blazing red and yellow eyes glowed brilliantly with power. His dark raven hair was beginning to gray, yet even as he advanced in years, he was no less powerful than he had been when he came into this galaxy to fight the True Sith. He was still at the peak of physical fitness, and his mastery of the Force grew every day.

This planet greatly invoked his curiosity. A vast community of Force sensitives, who channeled it artificially using a stick called a "wand". Learning about their community and their language was simple – Revan simply ripped the knowledge out of a man's mind, then wiped his memory clear of the event.

It was true that Revan did not know all there was to know about the Force. He had made it his life's work to learn all there was to know about it. His desire to learn all there was to know about the Force, was fueled by his desire to mold the galaxy – no, the universe, into one single, glorious, infinite empire, free from tyranny, slavery, injustice and oppression. It was a lifelong dream of the Dark Lord's – this passion fuelled his power and his adeptness in both the deepest abilities of both Light and Dark.

Perhaps, during the Mandalorian Wars, he had lost his way. The Dark Side, after all, was tempting. However, Darth Revan would not be a slave to neither Dark nor Light. He was a master of the Force – the Force did not master him.

But even with his powers, he could not be immortal. Perhaps one day he would achieve immortality. His dream meant that it would take more than a lifetime to accomplish, yet he would do this.

He was brought out of his musings when the swords of the two wizards clashed fiercely. Darth Revan studied their techniques in amusement – flimsy, barbaric and brutish, completely unlike the refined lightsaber forms that he had mastered.

Revan used the Force to probe the castle. Aside from the four, it was completely empty. Now was the perfect time.

"HK, execute stealth protocols," Revan ordered as he pulled his lightsaber off his belt. "Assume communication silence. Do not shoot at anyone unless directly shot at first, or else I'll break you apart and throw your chassis into a vat of acid."

"Statement: You are a cruel master, master. I like you already." With that, HK disappeared into thin air as it engaged the stealth unit.

Revan snorted in amusement. Although HK's psychopathic tendencies were annoying, in the long run they were extremely amusing. He had to word his orders perfectly, otherwise HK would exploit even the slightest loophole in his words and go on a rampage.

The Dark Lord pushed the Force underneath his feet as he flew gracefully through the air, wrapping the Force around him like a cloak of invisibility to avoid sight.

Moving through the air at a fast speed, Revan ignited his blood-red lightsaber with a hiss and intercepted both blades. He wasn't surprised when neither blade shattered, as they were after all imbued with the Force.

Whirling around quickly, Revan raised a hand, sending out a powerful wave of Force energy, sending them flying back. He then simultaneous choked them into unconsciousness, before going into their minds and wiping their memories, replacing them with false memories of the two swordsmen casting spells at each other and knowing the four unconscious from the explosion. He was here only as a silent observer, not as a conqueror. Yet.

Darth Revan walked into the castle, ripping a hole in the Force shield large enough for him to enter. It was not yet fully built, meaning that if he came by later he would find it significantly harder to break the shields in this manner.

Walking through the corridors, Revan stumbled across a large room filled with books and tomes. It was extremely messy, yet Revan was too curious for his own good.

He was particularly interested in a crumbling tome that reeked of the Dark Side of the Force. Leafing through it delicately, he was shocked at the intensity and the gravity of the rituals and spells it contained.

Resolving to return it later, Revan took the book with him as he was about to fly towards his original location.

The Sith Lord suddenly grunted in pain as he stumbled. He held up his hand to his left side, where the permanent scar was located, using the Force to dull some of the pain. The scar was rooted in the Dark Side, and was spreading rapidly. He did not have much time left before it took over completely.

Returning to his original lookout spot, Revan spoke briskly. "HK, we're returning to the Avenger." He had designed the ship himself. It was sleek and state of the art, utilizing technology not only from the Star Forge, but also enhanced greatly with many of Revan's own modifications. It was the perfect ship and although the Sith Lord was slightly dismayed at leaving the Ebon Hawk behind, the Avenger carried vast libraries of both Jedi and Sith knowledge, as well as a huge arsenal of weapons and schematics. If he could reproduce the technology of his original galaxy, it would severely cut down on the time needed to generate an army.

Once he was safely in orbit and HK was in standby mode, Revan had taken off his mask was now in the Avenger's Sith Alchemy lab, flicking through the tome.

This "Horcrux" idea was interesting, but only the premises, and not the execution. What was the point in splitting one's soul? It created too many unnecessary complications. No, he needed the transfer of his complete soul, to another body. The rituals for the creation of a new body were too complicated…and frankly disgusted him.

He stumbled briefly as another surge of pain flared through him, before cursing briefly in the Sith language. The scar was weakening and deteriorating his body at an accelerated rate, and he knew he didn't have much time left.

Comparing Sith tablets to the tome, Revan quickly began formulating a plan. He would place his soul in an ornamental Sith locket that was virtually indestructible, and was naturally Force sensitive with protective shields, making it easier. Revan began copying this new ritual into a datapad, looking over both texts for reference. As a safety precaution, Revan would ensure the necklace kill any with a midi-chlorian count below his own. He could not afford to be null to the Force or weakened in his affinity for it, as many of his plans rode on his own skill in the Force. The entirety of his mind needed to be carried through, his essence, to ensure full memory recall to avoid losing his various talents.

Once he was satisfied with the overall ritual, Revan slipped the datapad into the folds of his robes and walked out. "HK, begin protocol 765," Revan commanded coldly as he unbuckled his lightsaber.

"Shocked statement: Master, surely you cannot be serious!"

"I mean it, HK," Revan replied as he began to take off his robes. "Transfer your AI to the ship. The password is what we agreed on."

"Resigned statement: As you wish, master. Query: When you return, will you allow me to kill something as a celebration?"

"Of course, HK. I'll give you a target and you can kill them any way you want to," Revan replied as he walked into the armory and put his lightsaber into the security locker. Slipping on a comfortable Sith robe, he put his signature robes into his closet along with his many other clothes and armour.

As he walked out, HK was already plugged into the ship. Its fierce glowing photo-receptors began to slowly dim as its AI was transferred to the ship.

Taking out the Sith locket, Revan opened a hidden compartment he had modified it with and slipped in a small remote. The material of the locket would be able to prevent corrosion from occurring, and it was highly unlikely the remote would stop working, even in several thousand year's time.

Revan turned around to look at the ship one last time. It was his pride and joy, his faithful companion, and it had saved his ass on at least a dozen occasions from the True Sith as he fought them. Even so, it wasn't the last time he would be seeing it again.

Once he secretly returned the tome to the castle, Revan walked out into a clearing a few miles away.

Turning around, the distinct thrum of the Avenger's engines could be heard even through its stealth field as it blasted off into space.

Revan scanned his location with the Force – there was no one here for a few miles except some wild animals. He began drawing a large circle in the dirt, then scribbled some archaic Sith runes in conjunction with those he found in the tome. Taking the necklace, Revan paused as he pulled out a knife.

Slowly, he began chanting in an ancient tongue that was thought lost, chanting words of great and twisted power, wonderful and horrifying, beautiful and terrible.

There was a change in the air about him. The wind whipped up around him fiercely as the temperature began to drop rapidly. Icicles began to form as sparks of red energy focused around the necklace from the Sith Lord's hand.

Then as Revan finished the chanting, he plunged his knife into his heart. The ritual required the sacrifice of someone…Revan offered himself, for the whole transfer of his soul and essence in return for the death of his physical body. Blood dripped from the knife as he pulled it out, coughing in pain as the blood splashed onto the runes, causing them to glow with brilliant orange light.

There was a white flash and a burst of energy as a large blue ball of energy came out of Revan's heart. It flew across, and was absorbed into the locket, causing it to glow brilliantly.

With that, Revan's body crumpled to the ground, instantly turning to dust as the circle and runes disappeared. The only thing that remained was the locket, glowing faintly with inner blue light.



The locket would lay dormant there for many, many years until a little village began to build around the exact clearing. Eventually this village was named Hogsmeade. An innocent young boy would pick up the necklace and try it on, only for him to instantly be struck dead as the necklace gave off a faint burst of energy before passing on to its next owner.

And so it would continue, passing from owner to owner, never finding one truly suitable for what it housed. It was taken by many collectors, and studied by many wizards, before somehow it ended up in a certain shop in Knockturn Alley.

"Hello there!" The old man grunted as the imposing wizard walked into the shop. "And what are you interested in, Mr…"

"You may refer to me as Lord Voldemort," the man stated coolly and crisply as he gracefully strode across the dusty shop, looking from item to item. "And as for interest…I am interested in any items you have which possess unique properties."

"Unique properties…" the old shopkeeper frowned then grinned as he darted to the back of the shop, and pulled out a strange-looking locket. "This may take your interest, sir…"

"You will refer to me as 'my Lord', not 'sir'," Voldemort replied coldly as he looked over the necklace. It certainly was a very odd necklace, made of a strange, smooth black stone. Runes were carved into it, runes which even with all of his knowledge, he could not deduce. Naturally because of this it immediately procured his interest. "And what might I ask, this is?"

"Bloke brought it in a few months ago…my lord," the shopkeeper replied. "Said it was a cursed necklace. Killed anyone who put it on."

"Most intriguing…" Voldemort looked at it, and then cast a few scanning charms on it. It didn't appear to have any curses on it, so why…?

Feeling very confident, Voldemort put it on, to the protests of the shopkeeper.

The protests stopped as soon as the shopkeeper registered that this person was actually alive. "Sweet Merlin…"

Voldemort felt perfectly fine – there was a strong pressure against his Occlumency shields, but he easily blocked it out. "Interesting. Most interesting."
Voldemort would find out how interesting it was later, when he found out it created a shield that deflected virtually any curse.

Well, all but one, but it was rather…complicated.


"Not Harry, please!" the redheaded woman begged as tears flowed freely from her eyes. "Take me; just don't kill my son…"

"Step aside, girl." Voldemort snarled angrily, wand trained on the filthy mudblood.

"Please, don't kill him, take me instead…"

"Avada Kedavra!" The Dark Lord snapped. The green light flashed across the air and hit her in the chest, causing the life in her emerald eyes to fade as she slumped to the floor, dead.

Voldemort looked down at the baby in its crib, who looked back at him with strange curiosity in its green eyes, similar to those of his mother. There was little time left, as the Aurors surely would arrive soon. He aimed his wand, malicious glee in his glowing red eyes. "Avada Kedavra!"

The green light burst from his wand, but instead of killing the baby, it rebounded off him and flew towards Voldemort.

The Dark Lord's eyes widened. He tried to dodge out of the way, but the curse hit him in the chest. Or more precisely, in the centre of the locket.

The locket shattered, giving off a burst of blue energy. The energy manifested in the air in the form of a large ball, swirling around as it attempted to find a living host.

It flew into the form of the baby, connecting with its mind, but it was somehow unable to take control of it fully. Instead, as it entered, some great force pushed it into the very back of the child's mind as walls were pushed in around it, causing it to become trapped.

It would be carried in the mind of this body, repressed and trapped as the boy matured. Locked away, and trapped, for many years, unable to see, hear or even sense anything outside its prison.

Until the boy turned fifteen, and was having Occlumency lessons from a certain Potions professor…


"Again, Potter!" Snape drawled as the Gryffindor golden boy was sprawled out across the ground. "Make sure to clear your mind properly this time. Your mind is as open to me as a book. If it is this easy for me to enter, how easier do you think the Dark Lord will?"
Harry grunted as he struggled up. "You mean Voldemort?"

"Don't say his name!" Snape barked as he raised his wand once more. "Legilimens!"

Harry screamed in pain as each bad memory was brought up to the forefront of his mind. Snape began to rummage deeper into the brat's mind, feeling a dark satisfaction at causing him pain like this. Potter…the spitting image of his bloody father! He always reminded him of…

SMACK! Snape's mental probe clanged against a solid, thick wall, causing it to bounce back. Severus was thrown back several feet, shocked at what he had touched in Potter's mind.

Harry picked himself up weakly as he looked at the Professor in shock. "Sir?"

Snape quickly picked himself up, and seemed perfectly alright although he was mentally shaken. What was that? In all his years of practicing the Mind Arts, he had never encountered such a wall deep in a person's mind. How could Potter do such a thing, and have such weak affinity for the art of Occlumency? "What was that, Potter?" Snape growled.

Harry frowned. "What was what, sir?"

Severus tired of such games. "You know what I mean!" he shouted in annoyance. "What. Was. That?"

"I'm sorry sir, but I still don't understand what you mean," Harry replied in puzzlement.

"Feigning, ignorance, eh, Potter?" Snape asked as he raised his wand yet once again. "Legilimens!"

This time Snape wasted no effort. He smoothly ripped through Potter's mind until he came to the place where he had encountered the wall. Sending out a light probe, Snape was rebuffed, although managed to stay on his feet.

With the subtlety of a battering ram, Snape began to bash the mental wall violently.

Harry screamed in pain as he stumbled back. His head felt like it was on fire! His body began violently twitching as he began to lose control of his bodily functions.

Disregarding the fact that this wall was rooted deep within Harry's mind, deep enough that destroying it might even cause the wizard permanent brain damage, Snape relentlessly kept bashing into it. So deep in his spell, he could not hear Harry's repeated begs for him to stop, amidst his screams of pain.

The wall began to crumple away after a minute of this. With one final drive, Snape grunted and force all his power into the probe, causing the wall to crash.

A bright white flash of light surged forth, throwing Snape away much farther than before. Harry's body was engulfed in an aura of blue light, sending out flashes of lightning as the boy screamed in pain at the most horrible pain he had ever experienced.

Snape quickly collected himself, and watched in shock as Harry's tortured form, writhing and turning on the ground, began to change, just as his mind did also. He was completely obscured in a bright aura as his scar also began to emanate glowing red light.

Just as soon as it had started, it finished. The aura burst into tiny sparkles of energy that dissipated into the air. The wizard got up soon after, looking at his hands in awe, before turning up to look coldly at the Potions Professor.

Severus Snape shivered before tightening his grip on his emotions. His eyes had changed to a sickening and demonic yellow. They pulsed dully with a strange power, a power that Snape could not identify. Even the Dark Lord's red eyes did not contain promises of so much pain and fear, yet there was a seductive darkness within those glowing eyes. Although reptilian and demonic, the eyes shined with passion and calmness, coldness and fire. It was a paradox of things, making them all the more confusing.

"Severus Snape," the boy spoke in a cold tone, yet one could not call him a boy anymore. His shoulders had broadened to accommodate a powerful set of muscles, and he had shot up to become much taller, slightly taller than Ron. His jaw was hard and his face was set into stone. He was handsome, more handsome than ever, but in a cruel sort of way.

"P-Potter…?" Snape gasped in astonishment at the change in his voice. It was cold, but it was yet also a low, animalistic growl. The brutality of his tone nearly made Snape quiver in fear…only the Dark Lord used such a tone with him…

The Potions Professor jerked his wand up as Potter walked towards him slowly. The younger wizard raised a hand, and to his alarm, the sleeve of his right arm slowly lifted up, to reveal the Dark Mark.

The younger regarded it closely, probing it with the Force and immediately sensing the thick tendrils of darkness that connected him to Voldemort.

"Potter!" Snape tightened his arm in pain. "What in blazes are you doing?!"

With a dark smirk, the young man began tearing off the tendrils that bound Snape to Voldemort.

Snape gave off a foul scream as his arm felt like it was being bathed in multiple Cruciatus curses. The Dark Mark burst into a multitude of black flames as it slowly began to dissolve away. The longer Harry did this, the harder Snape screamed as he dropped his wand, violently shaking as his arm's pain intensified.

Harry snapped off the final tendril, and stepped back.

Even reeling from the aftereffects of the pain, Snape managed to swipe his wand off the ground and point it. "What did you do, Potter?" He hissed in a pained voice.

'Potter' merely smirked and folded his arms, inclining his head in the direction of his Dark Mark.

Looking down, Snape could only gape in astonishment. He then rubbed over the pale skin many times, just to be sure. "The Mark…it's gone!" he gasped, keeping a tight rein on his emotions so he would not cry tears of joy or laugh in happiness.

"That was my intention," the student informed him coolly.

Joy was suddenly replaced by suspicion as Snape gripped his wand. "Who are you? Potter could never have done what you could have done."

Neither could Voldemort nor Dumbledore. The young man pondered this for a moment, before answering. "In public you may refer to me as you normally do. In private, you may refer to me as…Lord Revan."

"What are your intentions? Which side do you represent?" Snape demanded.

"I represent…an alternative," Revan replied aristocratically, raising his hands in a gesture of openness. "You are a most interesting man, Severus Snape. You see into the inner-workings of both the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters. Albus Dumbledore, leader of the light, and Lord Voldemort, leader of the dark. Tell me, are you truly happy?"

Snape was taken aback by the question. "W-What do you mean?"

Revan suppressed a smirk. "Are you satisfied by the way both work? Do you think, truly, that Albus Dumbledore is a better alternative than Lord Voldemort?" He stepped forward a bit. "Or have you thought about it? Have you considered returning to Lord Voldemort? You have, haven't you? You remember it all. The efficiency, the brutality, the power. If it weren't for a certain boy with a lightning scar, the war would have been over, and Voldemort would have won. Yet something, irrevocably, keeps you stuck to the Order's little tea parties. The thought has crossed your mind, has it not? How helpless the Order is, how they cannot defend against the onslaught of Voldemort…why? Why do you still stay with them?" As Snape started shifting uneasily, he smiled. "There is a reason…" he glanced at Snape's body language. "…But you refuse to tell me. Too bad. This will hurt."

Before Snape could question what could hurt, Revan's eyes glowed brightly as he felt a powerful probe smash into his Occlumency shields. He stumbled back at the sheer power behind the attack. Who is this man? How does he know how to do this level of magic?

Even as advanced as Snape was in the Mind Arts, Revan's powers meant he could unleash the full power of the Force. It only took a short time before Snape's mental shields caved in, allowing Revan to enter his mind unhindered.

Ripping easily through his memories, Revan easily shifted through them, finding the knowledge he wanted before pulling out.

Snape was gasping heavily for breath. How? Even the Dark Lord could not overcome my Occlumency!

"Ah. So there was a prophecy surrounding me birth, but you only managed to hear a part of it…and the truth comes out. You feel loyalty to me as I am Lily's son, and you were in love with her."

Snape turned pale.

"Guilt. You feel guilty because you delivered the prophecy to Voldemort, causing him to kill both my parents." Revan's gaze remained constant. "And fear. You fear of what people will do to you, knowing that you were the one who led Voldemort to my parents."

"Who are you really?" Snape said coldly, steel in his tone. "Revan or Harry Potter?"

Revan laughed. "An interesting question. I am Harry Potter and Revan, yet I am neither of them. I prefer Lord Revan, as is my title, and better than the title of the 'boy-who-lived'. Let me ask you, Severus Snape. What would you say if I said that I was a war general, a man who commanded vast armies and won wars? What would you say if I said I carried secrets of 'magic', which no one on this planet will ever learn?"

Snape hesitated. "I would ask once again: Who do you fight for? What side are you on?"

"My side," Revan replied. "Join me. I have the power to bring an end to this petty conflict. I have the power to make both muggles and wizards equal, the power to make all races stand together. Think of it! No discrimination! United under a single banner…" he raised his hand, moving it across, "across the entirety of this nation." His hand curled into a fist. "And then we'll move. Farther, wider, further. True peace…no conflict ever again."

"A world order…" Snape whispered, his face turning paler by every sentence.

"Indeed. Would you not want to be part of this order?" Revan asked, reaching out his hand.

"What you declare to do is insanity!" Snape hissed in anger. "Peace? The muggles never will accept us!"
"They will," Revan stated coldly. The determination and grimness in that voice made the Professor freeze. This man truly believed in this delusion, didn't he? "Or we'll make them." He paused briefly, knowing that Snape was still unbelieving, before talking once more. "You are no doubt wondering, 'Who is this man? How can he believe he can truly do this?'. Let me reveal to you who I truly am." Revan glanced down at himself, changing his Hogwarts robes into a hooded Sith Master robe before looking up again, eyes burning with inner fire. "I am Darth Revan, Dark Lord and Master of the Sith. Leader and commander of the Sith armada, a powerful force which conquered planets. Voldemort cannot claim to be a conqueror – he has promised much, yet delivered little, and Dumbledore, while a powerful wizard, is not a conqueror. If he cannot deal with a weak-willed Minister, how can he deal with Death Eaters? Search your feelings. You know I speak truth."

Snape did so, feeling the passion and intensity in every one of his words. However insane this man was…he was starting to slowly believe it. "And what is your proposition?"

"Ally yourself with me," Revan said simply. "Inform me during these lessons of Voldemort's and Dumbledore's meetings. Then, at the right time, I will reveal myself, and they will fall, as will the Ministry of Magic. A new power will rise in its stead."

Although Snape would have normally denied such an offer, this man made him think twice. Somehow, he felt…compelled to believe him, despite the gravity of his words. There was something about him that he couldn't place, something more than just great charisma, which made his offer so appealing.

Snape inwardly shrugged. What the hell? It wasn't like his situation could get any worse. "I accept your offer," he replied, taking Revan's hand.


A/N: Just something that I couldn't resist writing. I'm currently committed to writing 'Harry Potter and the Determinations of Fate', but if the response is good enough for this one, then I'll place this one as my second priority.