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Dark Rage by The Dark Sorceror
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Dark Rage

The Dark Sorceror

Dark Rage

~Shadows of the Dark~

***

Stars were gleaming brightly. Planets slowly revolved around their suns. Galaxies stood out in front of Harry as he traveled through space and time. He could hear whispers of souls through the echoing darkness. There was a shadow, spread out before the magnificent sight, threatening to enclaim all in blackness darker than the lightless veils of space.

Space was fading…. There was a room; filled with people. One figure sat at the head of them all: upon a throne of silver bones and green snakes. He was hooded, thin, and tall, and radiated a sense of power that sent fear chilling through the ranks of those before him. The people grouped before him parted; a small band of cloaked figures walked down the pathway. There were five of them, their black hoods drawn up, carrying themselves in a way of arrogance and overconfidence. They showed no signs of fear at the man sitting upon his throne.

Four of the figures walked side by side, the one in the center stood in front of the rest, obviously indicating leadership. The figures kneeled simultaneously as they reached the foot of the throne, portraying their high respect for the one sitting before them. There were different colored rings on the fingers of the four followers: white, red, blue, and brown. They seemed to serve as some sort of representation, though it had yet to be explained. The four wearing the rings looked up to the center figure for guidance.

The center figure was a man; tall and thin like the figure sitting on the throne. His face was not that of any normal man, for there were horizontal black stripes on his cheeks and vertical black stripes on his forehead and chin. There were shadows around his eyes, slightly masking them. His skin was slightly dark.

He was carrying a staff in his right hand; black, long, and with two red jewels sat in the top. As he raised his staff to hail the one he was bowed before, his eyes began to glow a horrible, deathly, dark yellow color.

The four figures, men, they appeared to be as well, hailed along with their leader. They were silenced immediately as their leader spoke in a deep, slightly raspy voice, "Lord Voldemort, honored I am to be in your presence."

Lord Voldemort smiled, "I am glad to see you came as requested, and delighted to see that you have brought your own additions to my ranks."

"Yes, my lord, my sons were eager to arrive and serve you." The man smirked.

The four men spoke in unison, "Our allegiance lies with our Master, Lord Voldemort!"

"You have done well, Shaman, for this, you will be rewarded," Voldemort said as he beckoned them closer, "But first, you must accept the mark."

The five men obeyed, and silently strode over to Voldemort.

"Kneel, and hold out your left forearm, as I brand you with the Dark Mark," He took the leader's forearm, and placing his wand upon his flesh, spoke the incantation.

"Morsmordore!"

The Shaman did not cringe or shriek with pain, instead, he let out a chilling laugh. Voldemort himself seemed surprised to see someone who could tolerate the pain of the Dark Mark.

One by one the rest of the men were marked; none screamed, for they seemed to be above such things. When the initiation to the ranks of Voldemort was complete, they retreated from the chamber, their dark cloaks billowing behind them.

Voldemort rose from his throne, and walked over to a large mirror standing a few feet from him. As he looked into it, he lowered his rood, revealing a white, snakelike face, with raging, red, catlike eyes that burned with a fierce intensity no other man's had ever achieved.

"You can't stop me now, Potter! I have a Shaman and four Elementals at my control! You will fall and cower at my might!" Voldemort laughed maniacally. "Not even the Dark can help you now…"

***

Harry's scar burned with a fierce sting. His eyelids felt like deadweights. He could not summon enough energy to open them.

"Dai nu sieno Nazril… Terenes don retradr…" There was a whisper in the wind. The language they spoke in was unknown to Harry, but it was haunting; a feeling of dread rose in the pit of his stomach from the words being spoken. "Scyi vazsn yri et calama… Scyi xan dreazt rnahd Nahechadt…"

There were shadows all around him. Shadows of what used to be men: along with some other creatures. They towered above him, speaking in forbidden languages that defiled nature and devoured flesh. They were circled around him now. Harry wanted them to stop. Their voices were making his head throb, it worsened with each second.

The vilest looking Shadowperson came forward. He was mere inches away from Harry. His Shadowfinger grazed Harry's scar as he examined him closely.

"Let the Dark control you… Let it rule your actions and thoughts… The Dark will stop Voldemort, for the Dark contains powers unimaginable to the sorcerer who deems himself a Dark Lord… Voldemort is unworthy of such a title… It is you who should be the Dark Lord!" The Shadowman said forcefully, "You have a magical capacity that surpasses everyone that has ever existed… You are the most powerful! Let the Dark control you!"

"No," said Harry defiantly. "I will not bow down to the Dark! I have seen what it does!"

"You are the host of the Dark and you will let it control you!" The shadowman shouted.

"NO!" roared Harry. His anger was building; he would need to release it soon-

"YOU WILL BE CONTROLLED!" The Shadowperson glared at Harry straight in the eye, before raising his hand and plunging it into Harry's chest. Harry gasped and his eyes widened as the pain of the Shadow entered his body. The Shadowman then walked into Harry, intertwining the evil forces of the Shadow with the Dark inside Harry. Harry felt immense pain as the Shadow began to take control of his body. But Harry resisted; he would not let them control him. He would fight, even if it meant suffering.

Noticing his resistance, the Shadow inside him called upon his companions, and one by one they entered Harry, intertwining their own darkness with Harry's. His resilience was failing; he could not stop the combined forces of all the Dark and Shadow.

They almost had him completely; he was falling to their combined powers. He was being forced to completely succumb to all that was Dark. He was being forced to become the Dark.

He had always had a bit of the Dark in him. From all the ill treatment and pain he had felt in his lifetime; the Dark had endured and grown. Now all the Darkness of the world was in him, fusing with his own evil: to create a beast of Shadow that knew no mercy, feared not death and pain.

The Dark had wrapped around his mind, locking Harry in, disabling him from doing anything.

He needed to escape; he would do anything to be free of this evil, this Dark. All power that he could summon from what was left in his free will, and tried to force the Dark away from him. He was able to push it away for just a second as magical energy burst forth from him that was completely unrelated to any of the Dark's evil magical powers.

Harry took his chance and forced himself to escape.

***

The torches in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts were blown out as a wave of powerful magical energy surged forth from an occupant of one of the beds. The wards around the school were temporarily shut down as the huge amount of magical energy collided with them. A gust of wind blew throughout the castle.

Harry Potter's eyes opened. But they were not his normal, bright, emerald-green ones; they were a glowing red, pupil-less, and glazed over.

Harry could see nothing except for tiny pinpricks of light from the reignited torches. The rest was darker; only outlines of large objects were visible. There were outlines of a few people. Harry could not think right and count them.

He heard a voice speaking that evil language again; it was coming from his right. He turned his red and saw nothing. The voice was above him; he looked up, nothing there. He knew where it was next before he heard it. There, at the end of the bed, was figure, cloaked in black robes that made the darkness surrounding it look gray. He was speaking in that evil tongue, the one that physically and mentally hurt him when heard. He had a black staff as black as his robes; with two jewels sat in the top. The cloaked figure began to speak louder, and his staff began to glow, and Harry's head was thrown back hard against the headboard. He could feel something trailing down the back of his neck.

The figure raised his staff high, and was speaking more quickly, and as he did, Harry's heartbeat stopped, his throat constricted him so he could not breath, and his body froze.

The figure than spoke in English, "I will finish you off now…"

Just as he was about to deliver the final blow, one of the blurred, shadowy, outlined figures ran towards him and shook him. When they received no answer, they called out to someone, but Harry could not hear. He then saw someone: they were clear, not hidden in shadow like the others. He was a tall man, with a long silver beard, and blue eyes that were hidden behind half-moon spectacles. The man spoke with a fierce determination in his voice, "Be gone, Shaman of the Dark! Exorcism Expulsum!"

A bright light issued from Albus Dumbledore's wand, and the Shaman was pushed away from Harry. The Shaman then disappeared, not without a few parting curses in the foul language Harry had been hearing lately.

But as the Shaman was pushed away, so was Harry's mind. He was drifting on the edge. Again he was traveling through the mysteries of space and time as he heard people screaming his name.

A girl's voice was most prominent.

***

Every part of his body ached. His ribs hurt terribly, his arm hurt. Hell, everything was in pain. He could hear people muttering beside him, but he could not make out the words. His ears seemed not to be working properly.

Someone grabbed hold of his hand. He could barely find the energy to squeeze it back. A sudden, cold, wet sensation was felt on his forehead. He wondered what it was.

He could still hear distant voices murmuring in that accursed language inside his head. They would not leave.

Many different memories started to come back to him. His eyes bolted open as he remembered his fight with Voldemort. His breathing quickened, and every time he took in his breath it hurt his chest terribly. It felt as if he was being constricted.

He sat bolt upright as his fight came crystal clear back to him, but he regretted it later as a sharp pain shot through his chest.

"Lie back down Harry, or you'll hurt yourself even more," a calm voice spoke in his ear. Who was that? Harry glanced around the room. He was in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. There, standing next to him was Dumbledore. Sitting in a chair next to him was Lupin. Behind Lupin was-

"Hermione? What are you doing here?"

"I came to visit. How are you feeling?" she asked concernedly.

"Not too good," Harry said truthfully.

"You gave her right a scare Harry, appearing in front of her house," said Dumbledore calmly, "She informed us right away."

"You mean I-I apparated in front of her house," Harry asked, bewildered.

"No, you teleported," Dumbledore said gently.

"Teleported?" Harry asked.

"That is something to be discussed at a later time, for now, you need some more rest," said Dumbledore kindly.

He left the room, leaving Harry with Lupin and Hermione. They both sat next to him as he closed his eyes. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The nightmares awoke him…

***

Well, chapter four! I hope you all enjoy it. Some of the things that happened in Harry's dreamlike state will be explained later. Well, see you next chapter!

The Dark Sorceror

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