This fic will be very dark. I warn you now, there will be mass genocide, torture, some graphic sexual situations (there will be warnings – though I am loath to put them in as it ruins the flow of writing), concepts borrowed from other areas such as comics, manga and games like spells, combat scenes and techniques, tools and the like. I will endeavour to give each chapter the correct declarations at the bottom of the page.
Summary: He didn't know why or what he was doing, but he was trying to save her, he was just doing it the wrong way. Harry Potter survived the end of the world and went back to show him the way. Dumbledore could go hang. Even if all the magical world were to hate and revile him, he would help Voldemort destroy Muggle-kind, before they destroyed Mother Gaia, again.
She was to be married within the year, the Witch stared at her mirror, her dove grey eyes blank as she contemplated her future. She had been looking forward to this day since her eighteenth birthday when her engagement was announced, since her seventeenth when she was informed of the negotiations between her father and her soon-to-be Husband. She had been looking forward to that day when she would don her Wedding Robes, when she would have her hands tied by the Druid, when she would finally share a bed with her husband, when she would finally become a Wife, a Woman and hopefully, a Mother.
Now it was all falling down around her ankles and she could not bring herself to care about the last eight years she had spent pining after a man she would now be forced to share the rest of her life with while every second of every day and night, she would yearn for another. For him.
Bellatrix Black sighed quietly as she reached for her obsidian comb, slowly running it through her hair as if the simple every day action was a chore her heart couldn't be bothered with, something that was so useless, so pointless now that she thought about it. What need to look beautiful did she have? She was arranged to be married to some brute who cared nothing for her hair and everything for what lay between her legs and for the money he would gain from her father's generosity. He would never look at her, she was a Taken Woman, and he... he was so... She sighed again, setting the comb down as she stared at the reflected corner of her room, unable to muster the effort to finish grooming herself, or to even burst into the tears she could feel clogging her throat.
She was twenty six, it had been a stipulation of her Soon-to-be Husband's family to not allow a wedding until ten years after her Coming of Age, just to ensure that the famous Black Madness would not take hold of her, to make sure that she would be desperate for her husband, to ensure her loyalty to the Dark Magics and to her future husband. If she could wait ten years, then she would be an appropriate wife of the Lestrange Family.
But now, she did not want to be a wife of the Lestrange Family. Or Any family.
She wanted him.
She wanted her Light.
Yes, before now she had longed for the Dark Lord's attention, his affection, his magic, so potent and heady, so thick and commanding, it thrilled her in places only her touch had ever quested to in the darkness of her bedroom at night, her heart fluttering in her chest like a Snidget's wing beats. But for all his power, for all his command, he was too strong, too much, too glorious to ever lower himself in her eyes. She could not wish to be his equal, to stand at his side and lie in his bed, nor bare her deepest self to him, he was her Lord, her Master, but he was not her Husband and she could not see him as such.
But then he came. Her Light.
The wolf in sheep's clothing, the shy man who hid from the world, the one who came back from the end of the world to save their future, the future of magic. Her Light who could not speak, scarred and scared as he was, hiding behind a cowl of silver velvet, strong but vulnerable, she sighed in longing, his magic was soothing, fluid and light, it drew her out, calmed her fury, wrapped her in warmth. She felt safe in a way her Soon-to-be Husband had never inspired within her, and she knew, she knew that he would protect her, protect their children. That he was special, he was the Light in the Darkness.
This was getting to be an entirely too common an occurrence, Voldemort decided as he glowered at the Gryffindor in his kitchen. Half past eight in the morning, he came downstairs expecting to make himself some toast, a nice fry up, a cup of tea and then look through the morning papers, a nice way to start the day before he got down to the nitty-gritty.
What he finds is his breakfast already made and set out, currently under warming and cooling charms respectively, the papers set out beside his plate and Dusk at the otherside of the table with several leafs of Parchment, a quill and an ink-well making lists and notes at a furious pace, a mug of hot chocolate that smelt suspiciously minty at his elbow and obviously cold judging by the skin on top of it.
He frowned at the mute, "Did you even leave last night?" he demanded, taking a seat and determinedly trying not to feel self-conscious in his sleep robes.
A flick of a wand caused the blank sheet of Parchment at his elbow to fill with words and a moment later slide over to the Dark Lord. No, not really. I had to do some research and make up some Potions and transcribe some Ritual Spells. You need to re-merge with your Horcrux.
Voldemort bristled like a furious cat, his magic crackling through the air, "Excuse me?" he hissed darkly, thoroughly displeased with the other male attempting to dictate his actions, to order him around like some imbecile!
Dusk looked up with golden eyes, taking the Dark Lord back a bit, he had been expecting green.
The simple fact of the matter is, my magic and proximity are the only things keeping you sane and level headed right now. I cannot be out of your presence for a prolonged period of time without your mental capabilities degrading back to those of a salivating megalomaniac. You need to re-merge with your Horcruxes, they will provide you with emotional equilibrium, mental stability, they will return a good chunk of your magic that was stunted due to your breaking your soul into pieces before reaching your full Maturation and it will allow you to use your full repertoire of magic without any hindrance. You have noticed the added difficulties with casting Light orientated Magic since you split your soul I take it?
He slammed his hands down on the table so hard that it caused his glass of chilled orange juice to topple over, nearly ruining the pile of parchments Dusk had been writing on had the Gryffindor not swiftly swept them up off the table, not once removing his eyes from the Dark Lord's seething garnet ones. "I do not take order from you," the Slytherin snarled maliciously, "No matter what we may have been to each other in the future." That was the only explanation he could come up with, he must have been involved with Dusk in the future, why else would the Gryffindor believe he had the right to give him, the Dark Lord Voldemort, any kind of order?
There was a moment of silence before Dusk closed his eyes slowly and got to his feet, silently gathering up all the papers he had been writing on under the Dark Lord's narrowed and suspicious glare. He sighed through his nose and jabbed the paper with his wand once again.
Contact me when you're ready to behave like an Adult.
Fury the likes of which the Dark Lord had never felt burned through his body with a vengeance as he turned to curse the Gryffindor only to find him... not there. Garnet eyes widened and then narrowed as he looked around the kitchen furiously, unable to spot the young man in question before roaring with anger and throwing the table, breakfast and all, against the wall and storming out.
Typical, just fucking typical!
Harry swore in his mind as he stormed through Diagon Alley, making his way to Gringotts, he needed to see the Goblins about weapons, making more of his specially enchanted Masks and crashing the Muggle Economy. There would be a lot of prophet in it for them, especially when taking into account all the Gold, silver, platinum, the diamonds and other gemstones and such that they used in the most mundane of things. Copper was great for channelling Electricity, but it was also great for channelling Magic, coupled with Goblin enchantments and you had something that most Purebloods would sell their first borns to get hold of.
The greedy little bastards weren't about to pass it up, he was quite certain of that, especially if he told them he could not only get hold of Gryffindor's Sword but also a Goblin Made Tiara currently in the ownership of one Muriel Weasley, foul old woman. That would get him in rather nicely with the Nasties and if that failed to cheer them up, he could always sell them some infant Basilisks and ask Voldemort to give them some marching orders to protect various Vaults unless a Goblin was there.
Then he remembered the hissy fit the man had earlier in the day and scratched that idea out. Harry was not going to deal with a temper tantrum more befitting Teddy at four years old than a Dark Lord in his fifties, Voldemort could just stew on what was said until he was ready to behave like an adult and talk it over. He had Harry's contact details, or more specifically, the Galleon that would arrange for them to meet and Harry was quite capable of slipping through his Wards to leave a note telling him where they could meet in the future.
Either way, until the man learned to behave, Harry was going to leave him be and get on with his plan.
"Excuse me, sir?" a male baritone called from just behind him, Harry paused and glanced over his shoulder, having to stop himself from doing a double take at the younger, more serious and definitely sane version of Frank Longbottom in front of him, clad in the crimson robes of the Ministry of Magic's Auror Division, the pins on his collar denoting him to be fairly high ranked. Possibly the equivalent of a Sergeant in the Muggle Police Force.
He gave the man a polite nod, wishing, not for the first time, that he could use his vocal cords for something more than gurgling and hissing – the most annoying thing about it was that Parselmouth did in fact come from the vocal cords, from the whole throat, he couldn't speak it without his cords.
"I am Auror Longbottom," he introduced himself, pausing briefly and clearly expecting Harry to return the favour, however, the cloaked male remained silent and only arched an eyebrow at the brief tightening of the man's features. So much like Neville when he tried not to correct someone in Herbology, or tried not to tell Harry off for being so clueless about Ginny's feelings, or when he tried not to hit Ron for being so rude to Hermione. Neville looked a lot like his mother but his habits and quirks, Harry could see Frank in them. "Word has it that you ran afoul of some Muggles in the know," he continued as if the pause had never existed and Harry had to refrain from rolling his eyes, Dumbledore was attempting to meddle again. "Would you care to file a statement regarding the situation? I ask because its important that we collect such information in order to protect the public from similar attacks."
Harry sighed through his nose, today seemed to be going from generally bad to a total clusterfuck.
File a statement, protect the public, yeah right. Someone had obviously seen him in St Mungos with Malfoy and passed the word onto Dumbledore and his Turkeys, now he had Aurors trying to get him out of a public location and into the Ministry of Magic, or some other obscure location that the Gryffindor would probably bet money on being Order controlled. Yeah, no thank you, he had no desire to end up in Azkaban or under Moody's tender love and care, besides, the less contact he had with Albus and the Marauders, the better the whole operation against the Muggles would go. Slowly, so as not to alarm the Auror, he removed his wand and conjured his customary ribbons, navy blue this time so they would stand out amidst the bright chaos of the Alley.
As he read, Frank's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the 'dealt with by the appropriate authorities' statement, his obviously embittered mind drawing the parallels with Voldemort and his Death Eaters and deciding that by 'Dealt with' meant 'killed for it'.
A split second later, Harry was having to crush his reflexive cursing of the Auror when a vice like hand latched onto him and wrenched the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing an unblemished left forearm. No Dark Mark to be seen. Harry jerked his arm free and took a step back, rubbing at his arm, ignoring the whispers that were breaking out through the crowd, the ribbons rearranging themselves without prompting.
"Were you expecting a Dark Mark? The Death Eaters aren't your problem anymore, Auror, or have you not noticed they have their attention on an even bigger threat to our society than muggle-borns." And with that, Harry turned away and stalked into the Bank. He had revealed entirely too much of his hand but, goddamnit, he was pissed off!
He conjured more ribbons when he reached a Goblin Teller, "I need to speak with one of the Managers regarding a business proposition that will benefit the Goblin Nations as much as our own."
It had been two weeks since Dusk had last been to the Citadel.
His activities could be seen and felt throughout the Death Eaters as they gathered information, the Goblins were suddenly a lot more active than usual, the Ministry was getting panicked over the chances of another Goblin Rebellion, Dumbledore was becoming increasingly vocal regarding their so called evil activities and attempting to put more effort into recruiting. The Daily Prophet seemed to be having some interesting articles that weren't Ministry endorsed and most certainly not Dumbledore endorsed.
In fact, the articles seemed to be airing the Headmaster's dirty past to all and sundry. Ariana, Aberforth, Grindelwald, the obsession with the Hallows, the subtle encouragement of the House Rivalries between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the Chamber of Secrets incident back in the fifties and his never attempting to help the Half Giant who was accused and thus expelled.
Then there were the articles regarding muggles themselves, research papers written by a Harrison Creevey regarding the History of Magic itself, the effects of muggle technology on magic and vice versa, exploration into various muggle technologies... It got the majority of people thinking of how dangerous muggles were becoming.
So far there had only been three articles, it wasn't leaning one way or another when explaining the facts of muggle technology and influence, it just explained them as factually and detailed as possible. Dumbledore and his faction were attempting to get the articles shut down but Lucius was using his influence at the Ministry to keep them in print, he didn't have to try very hard though, the Daily Prophet was seeing a forty-percent increase in prophet whenever those articles came out. The fact that people in the Ministry's Department of Mysteries had decided to try and disprove these articles, only to end up proving them, added icing to the cake.
The only downside to all this activity was that Dusk had not returned to the Citadel, and Voldemort could feel his tenuous grasp on himself beginning to fray.
His temper was more volatile, his magic difficult to control, he slept less, ate less, drank less, he could see his physical appearance beginning to deteriorate again, skin becoming waxy and pale, eyes bruising and becoming maniacal, he was losing weight and paranoia was beginning to set in. He almost Crucio'd Barty Crouch Jr into insanity, half convinced the young man was spying on behalf of his father for the Ministry of Magic.
He knew he was losing it.
But he didn't want to admit it. He didn't want Dusk to be right. He didn't want to deal with that and he wouldn't!
He wou- the Dark Lord hissed unhappily as the wine glass between his fingers shattered, sending shards penetrating deep into his flesh. Bringing clarity in the way that only pain could to a mind in turmoil.
Dusk was right.
He sighed and spelled the glass shards out of his skin before reaching for the Galleon, he needed to do this before healing himself up, while he was still lucid, while the pain gave him enough clarity to do what he had to do. He sighed as he set the time for immediately, he needed the man to balance him, but at the same time, he was... hesitant.
They had been something more than just a balancing act in the future, he had never... he had never been involved with someone in that sense before. Sex was hardly unknown territory for him, he used his body just as readily as his magic and his soul in exchange for power, for immortality, he knew how to work his looks and other pieces of anatomy in order to get what he wanted. But relationships, that was... foreign. Unknown. And he did not relish any attempts at exploration. Relationships were for Gryffindors. Arrangements were Slytherin, arrangements and alliances.
But there was the simple fact that Dusk was a Gryffindor and he was a Slytherin.
Plus, Voldemort had no feelings for him in that sense. Why was he feeling so obligated to attempt to live up to something that had not yet happened and he wasn't sure he wanted to happen at all? Because he knew there must have been something special about the younger man that would prompt his older self to engage in such acts of frivolity? Because he had finally found someone he could deem an equal? Or was it simple curiosity? The desire to find out, or the resignation that Fate was going to have her way?
He jolted, almost reaching for his wand as a cool hand brushed his bloody skin, the familiar wash of Dusk's magic smoothing down the ruffled and uncomfortable edges of his own maelstrom of power, causing tense muscles he hadn't even known were wound tight to relax due to simple proximity.
There were no words spoken, for once Voldemort was grateful of the silence as the Holly Wand flicked over his hand, a surprisingly powerful Healing Charm knitting his flesh back together without the slightest hint of a scar, a few more shards of glass tinkling to the floor only to be vanished just as quickly. Dusk looked at him with those green eyes, his natural green eyes, under a spray of icy white hair, they weren't accusing nor were they expectant, they just looked, studied, before the younger man sighed softly and pulled the Dark Lord to his feet, steering him up the stairs towards his bed-chambers.
An uncomfortable jolt in his stomach made him tense up briefly before the younger man pushed him through the door and conjured a set of golden ribbons, "I will see you after you have slept, meet me in the kitchen when you've woken up and had a shower. You smell like a Troll."
And just like that, as if their 'disagreement' had never happened, Dusk made his way down to the kitchen to get something to eat while the Dark Lord collapsed in bed.
Harry sighed as he squeezed his wrist, watching dispassionately as his opened flesh dribbled out in a steady stream of blood, filling the small quartz crystal jar third of the way full with his blood. He ignored the dull pain and the beginnings of light headed giddiness that blood-loss gave him before he healed the open wound and reached for the next ingredient for the Ritual, ink made from the remains of an Ashwinder. That would be mixed together 1:1:2 with the final ingredient being a combination of Voldemort's blood and willingly given Unicorn blood.
Ironically enough, the Unicorn blood was the easiest to obtain.
It wasn't easy, it involved Apparating to Hogsmeade, staying out of sight, getting into the Forbidden Forest, tracking down a Blessing of Unicorns and then getting them to not kill him and remain still long enough for him to talk them out of three pints of the stuff. Surprisingly, it wasn't as difficult as it sounded. The unicorns were surprisingly docile toward him once they got a taste of his magic, and sitting down and having a brief mind to mind conversation with the Matriarch of the Blessing was a pleasant event. She and her two daughters willingly donated their blood to his cause, knowing that he would be keeping the majority of their blood as a 'just in case', they understood his need to maximise their resources in the face of his self-appointed mission. They would not fight, but willingly donated hair, blood and saliva would not be too small of a price to pay in order to regain the world they had lost, the sanity of their Planet and the freedom to run free where ever they wished – no longer forced to graze in such dark places as the Forbidden Forest.
Ashwinder ink was a Level four restricted Potion Ingredient, if he was caught carrying it without a Potions Mastery then it was a minimum of ten years in Azkaban under Medium Security measures. He probably wouldn't survive three days with his current mental state and he couldn't leave Voldemort that long until after the Ritual or he would just go topsy-turvey again and they would be stuck with the same Future he was trying to change!
It took a lot of haggling and threats in one of the Black Markets of Knockturn Alley and then later in the Goblin Markets to get the volume and quality he needed for the ink. He found a few other useful things, such as a small tribe of domesticated Clabberts, they would be highly useful during the more small scale strikes, their magic could sense danger even if they didn't know what the danger was or even if it wasn't yet dangerous. They would just know that It would become dangerous in short order. When Mine-fields began to be set up in the wastes of the Planet, what few Clabberts who could be rescued became invaluable for warning survivors about those land-mines, and about muggles who were lying about their good will, trying to trap them. Or kill them.
Still, he had all the ingredients necessary and he had been researching the Runic sequences thoroughly, all he needed now was Voldemort and all the Horcruxes.
Setting the white jar of the blood and ink mixture into the oven to keep it warm, he moved to go and make some food for himself and the perpetually melodramatic Dark Lord, if hadn't been so used to playing House Elf for ungrateful jerks – re: the Dursleys – he would have probably been annoyed or resentful about it. As it was, he didn't give the situation much thought, it would just be easier to make a large batch of food than listen to the Dark Lord clatter around and some up with substandard grub. He may not like other people cooking for him, but he was hardly very good at it so he had no room to complain when someone decided to do it better than him.
He ate alone and then went back to preparing for the future, specifically, writing his next column as Harrison Creevey in honour of the two little muggleborn who followed him around at Hogwarts. Little muggleborns who would now likely never be born with what he had planned to take place in the next five years.
This article would explain combustion engines, oil and just what natural resources the muggles were dragging up from the earth and then burning, couple that with a little history – such as how they used to power trains with the mummified corpses of Egyptain wizards and make paper bags out of them and other such horrors. And then lead into other areas, such as muggle paper being made of trees and such, Chinese bone china, the sewage dumping into the ocean and toxic waste dumps as well. He would also have to explain just how this was bad from a magical point of view for the muggleborn's benefits but also explain how its beneficial from a muggle's point of view for the purebloods. Make it look as though he wasn't taking any side at all but was just presenting the facts as thoroughly and unbiased as possible.
This was the first step in his plan, stirring controversy, anti-muggle sentiments would be easy to stir amidst the older generations of Magicals in the Know. Muggleborns would be more difficult but as he presented his findings on how muggles were destroying the world, pin-pointing exactly who was trying to kill them all would be difficult as there would be a lot of chaos in the Magical world with vigilantes. He would have to hit hard and fast with his findings of muggles being unnatural to the planet and how Magic gave only a select few her gifts because they were the only worth while ones of the lot. Hopefully that would end anti-muggleborn sentiments before they got any further.
Recruitment would be the next issue, getting folk from all over the world to join in and co-ordinate with them for simultaneous strikes that the muggles couldn't defend from before heading in full force to get rid of politicians and military all at once, after that, they could move in country by country to remove the last of the muggles who would be running around like chickens with their heads off.
It would be difficult. Harry guessed they had about two, maybe three years before the muggles got themselves organised properly and began to strike back, began to develop weapons like the ones he was familiar with in the future, realised that Kevlar could easily block most curses, specifically the Avada Kedavra. The trick would be to keep them not only demoralised but also prevent reproduction and technology from working, for that, he had every intention of recruiting Rookwood and whatever Spell Crafters, Potions Masters and Mediwizards he could into developing some kind of sterilization spell that would target only muggles. One that could be used by House Elves.
A wicked smirk curled on Harry's face as he continued writing his article, the little eager to please bastards would be his primary attack force, he was thinking of abducting Dobby from the Malfoys' as he was still there, only a young Elfling but already showing his former personality traits. Those annoying, yet strangely endearing ones.
Once he had the Sterilization Spell, taught it to the House Elves, he would then arm them with the masks, send one to every country and have them abduct the muggleborn children, memory charm the parents to tell them that it was a Miscarriage, cast wide-spread Sterilization Spells and go through the whole country until it was time to launch the first of their attacks.
While he would love to have the muggles wiped out within the next five years, he wasn't stupid, this was going to be a HUGE under taking, the sooner he had the whole population sterile and started taking them all out, the easier their end would come. But they were going to put up one hell of a fight before hand, but this time... this time Magic was going to win.
He sipped his tea, and thought of the day when he could finally rest.
Concept Props seen/hinted during this chapter!
Sterilization Spells: Suggested by Barrel of Monkies in Chapter 1
Kevlar blocking Avada Kedavra: Suggested by Ni Lemur in Chapter 1
Oil, coal, chalk and what it means to Wizarding Folk: Suggested by the Mad Mad Reviewer in Chapter 3
Unification of the Magical World: Suggested by noelnoel2 in Chapter 3
Hope you guys liked this Chapter. I had a fair bit of fun with it, as difficult as it was to grind through. Voldemort and Dusk are both very interesting and abrasive characters that their interactions are rather difficult to get wholly in character. I hope I made this chapter work, showing the clash between them and the first steps towards whatever may be between them in the future.
There is nothing compelling either of them to be together, the Compatible Magic merely provides a balance that Voldemort currently desperately needs in order to remain sane, he's broken off over half of his soul and poisoned his magic. Dusk's presence soothes it. His magic is silver for a reason ;D Silver is often used in bandages and such because it has remarkable healing properties – even in real life. I think a point is made in the books that the majority of medicinal potions are made in silver cauldrons for this purpose. Though that might be fannon, I can't remember.
Bellatrix has a crush on Dusk. Frank is suspicious and Gryffindorish when it comes to potential Death Eaters. Dumbledore is getting pushy and erratic because control is beginning to slip between his fingers. In all, its looking to be an interesting clusterfuck when the Death Eaters finally make their move.
If anyone has any ideas they would like to contribute, they would all be thoroughly welcomed. Really.