Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Okay fans…this one is a long one—the longest fanfic I've ever written—and it will take me some time to post all the chapters (3 parts with a total of 33 chapters including the epilogue) though I will attempt to be consistent. It is complete… I posted it elsewhere a couple years ago. Just as a warning at the outset, there are some minor character deaths, some extremely graphic torture and violence, and a bit of hot man sex. I hope you are interested in coming along for the ride, 'cause it's gonna get bumpy! Jules
Apocalypse: noun. 1. A cosmic cataclysm in which God destroys the ruling powers of evil 2. the last book of the New Testament; contains visionary descriptions of heaven and of conflicts between good and evil and of the end of the world; attributed to Saint John the apostle [syn: Revelation] - WordNet® 2.1, © 2005 Princeton University
"The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born first must destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas" - Hermann Hesse, Demian
"Abraxas speaketh that hallowed and accursed word which is life and death at the same time. Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness in the same word and in the same act. Wherefore is Abraxas terrible." Carl Jung, The Seven Sermons to the Dead
Part I – End Times
It had been another exhausting but productive Quidditch practice and Harry was ready to take a long hot shower and head for bed. He was rather looking forward to the time alone in his bed, with silencing charms and protective spells in place, to release the sexual tension that seemed to plague him constantly of late. He knew that wanking was quite normal for a thirteen year old boy on the cusp of puberty, but really, four times a day seemed quite excessive. He'd thought of going to Madam Pomfrey with his concerns, but embarrassment had nipped that idea in the bud.
Harry watched as his year mates, who had been eagerly observing the practice followed the team into the locker rooms. With Fred, George, Oliver, Ron, Dean and Seamus all crowding around and excitedly discussing their teams chances in the upcoming match against Slytherin, it looked like it would be a while before Harry could find any peace at all. He sat down on the bench with a sigh and observed the others as he slowly removed his boots and gear. Ron and Seamus were eagerly pelting Fred and George with questions about strategy while Dean was laughing at something Oliver had just said.
Oliver, now that was a good looking boy. He was lean and muscular, like any good keeper must be. His hair was sable brown and hung in short waves that made Harry think of running his fingers through it. He wasn't so tall that Harry would have to strain himself too much to reach up and kiss… Oh, shit! Harry thought. Not again.
While Harry had been undressing and lost in his thoughts, Oliver had stripped down for his shower and was now naked, with just a small towel wrapped around his hips. Harry could barely suppress the moan of arousal that wanted to break out. His ill-fitting underpants did little to hide the evidence of his arousal, and he hurriedly grabbed his shirt back and held it over his crotch.
"What's this?" Fred sing-songed.
"Little Harry's a bit excited!" George announced to the room.
Suddenly, six pairs of eyes were all on him. Harry wasn't sure what was so interesting about his having an erection, all boys got them. Especially at his age. But they were interested…and something more. Their eyes were almost…predatory.
"Does watching us undress make you randy, little Harry?" Oliver purred as they all slowly closed in around him. Harry shot to his feet and tried to shove his way through.
"Fuck off," Harry muttered. They didn't let him go, however. George put a hand on Harry's shoulder and shoved him back onto the bench.
"Fuck…hmmm, yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Fred mused as he ran a hand up Harry's arm and gripped his neck. "You want it don't you, little Harry?"
"No!" Harry denied. What little arousal he had been feeling had now fled in his fear. "Come on guys, quick kidding around!"
"Do you see anyone laughing?" Oliver asked and waved his wand to cut through the tatty fabric of Harry's underpants. "Oh, look at that. Harry's not excited anymore!"
"Maybe we can help him out," Ron put in, Dean and Seamus quickly agreeing. "I think he would make a really great Gryffindor Whore."
Suddenly, they were all around him, touching him, pinching and biting him. Harry couldn't breathe through the panic. He lost his glasses as he tried to struggle out of their grasp. His wand was in his locker; why would he need it when he was surrounded by friends? He had no way to fight back, and physically any one of them could have held him down.
Oliver was the first to breach his virgin hole, but he wasn't the last. They each had their turn, shoving their cocks in Harry from both ends. Harry screamed until he couldn't scream any more.
Harry woke up screaming in his dreary little bedroom at number 4 Privet Drive. Before he could shake the dream off enough to realize where he was, he was being batted upside the head by Vernon Dursley. From one nightmare to another.
"What have I told you about waking me up in the middle of the night, boy?" Vernon yelled, not expecting an answer, and giving Harry no opportunity to give one. His fist was already swinging for another blow, this one landing in such a way as to break Harry's nose and cause his eye to swell almost immediately.
"What's the freak done now, Daddy?" Dudley asked from the doorway, earning Harry a temporary reprieve. Petunia was right behind her bloated son, looking on in disgust.
"Help me teach this freak a lesson, Dudders," Vernon said, grabbing a belt from Harry's dresser. "He's going to learn his place if it kills him."
Then they were both pounding on Harry, Dudley's beefy fists making contact with Harry's small body over and over again while Vernon used the belt, until Harry was sure he was going to pass out. Instead of fading out, however, Harry's vision began to turn red. His heart began to race and he could feel the blood rushing through his veins. His magic became a tangible essence inside of him, glowing and throbbing. The Dursleys continued on, completely unaware that something significant was about to occur.
Every sound, every movement, every smell, seemed to be magnified to Harry in that moment. The pain faded away, even though he could feel his ribs cracking and blood dripping from the lashes Vernon was inflicting with the belt. The pain was still there, but it ceased to matter. Instead of fear and pain, Harry was slowly being filled with a blind rage. How dare they do this to him?
An inhuman shriek seemed to echo through the room, the house, even out into the night air of Privet Drive. Dudley and Vernon stumbled back away from Harry, while Petunia was frozen in place. This… thing… could not be related to her!
"What the hell is going on, boy!" Vernon asked.
"You are about to pay," Harry's voice rasped.
Harry was confused and covered in blood. The Dursleys were all dead, killed with a speed and ferocity that Harry didn't recognize as his own. He sat on the bloodied sofa, Dudley at his feet, and stared at his hands. He began rubbing his hands together in a futile attempt to remove the blood from them. All he succeeded in doing was rubbing away a thick layer of dry skin from his right hand, revealing something black scaly beneath.
Harry didn't notice, as he was so focused on reliving the last hour of his life. The worst part was that he could remember every second of the massacre. He remembered grabbing Vernon first and clamping down on his neck. He tore the flesh away with his teeth and gulped down the blood squirting from the man's veins. Petunia and Dudley had been frozen to the spot with fear, simply watching in horror as their husband and father tried to scream, but only gurgles spewed from his gaping wounds. Harry wasn't content with simply sucking the man's life away, however. Instead, he began digging into Vernon's chest with his long claw like fingernails and tore his heart out. He bit into the still beating organ and consumed the man's life force just as if it were the treacle tart the house elves served at Hogwarts. That was when Dudley and Petunia had finally realized that they should get away as fast as they could.
With the thought of food and the consumption of human flesh, Harry raced to the loo to empty the contents of his stomach. He wretched for long minutes, keeping his eyes closed so he would not see the basin fill with blood. Finally, his stomach seemed to settle and Harry flushed the toilet before leaning with his head against the cool porcelain.
Petunia had been next. Harry hadn't felt the same rage towards her as he had for Vernon, so he made her death as quick and painless as she would allow. He'd tackled her in the upstairs hall as she'd tried to run away. The sound of bones crunching beneath him as he knelt on her back and pulled her head up by the hair still echoed in his mind. He'd sucked the blood from her neck until she struggled no more.
Dudley had tried to escape while Harry was otherwise occupied, but the doors and windows would not open. He'd been in the sitting room trying to break the huge picture window when Harry had found him. Harry simply stood and watched as Dudley begged and cried. The fat whale had even pissed himself with fear. Harry simply stalked over to him and grabbed him by the hair at the back of his neck and smiled before sinking his teeth into the flabby neck of his cousin and feasting on the blood.
Dudley was much stronger than Petunia, and wasn't frozen with shock the way Vernon had been, so he put up more of a struggle. Which was probably why his arms had been completely torn from his body and his blood now splattered the picture window and the pristine furniture that Petunia had never allowed Harry to sit upon.
In a daze, Harry stripped his bloody clothes from his body and stepped into the shower. He turned the water as hot as it would go before grabbing Petunia's loofa and scrubbing at his body with all his might. As with his hands, layers of skin began to flake away and finally Harry took notice. Where once he'd had unblemished skin, he now had patches of black scales.
"What kind of monster am I?" Harry whispered as he sank to his knees and sobbed.