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Dark Rage by The Dark Sorceror
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Dark Rage

The Dark Sorceror

Dark Rage

~He Is To Be Feared~

***

Harry was twitching and writhing on the bed, trapped in an endless nightmare. He was radiating magic and heat, lots of heat. The Grangers could barely get an arm's length to him.

Hermione touched his face and jerked her hand back; she had been burned by his skin, which was burning like a white-hot flame.

She tried calling to him, but as soon as she did, she began to see things. Strange things, to which she had never witnessed before, never in this perspective.

"Lily! Take Harry and run! I'll hold him off!"

She watched as James Potter stood, facing the Dark Lord with no trace of fear. Without hesitation Voldemort took the offensive and James defended for all he was worth. James never once backed down. But soon, Voldemort had him on the ground, and told James Potter to beg for his life.

"Fuck you Voldemort!" James sneered. To himself he whispered, "I wish I could be there for Harry and Lily when they need me…. I love them both….so very much-"

His words were cut short as Voldemort ended his life.

Voldemort laughed and then began to examine the rest of the house. He heard movement from the upstairs. Slowly he walked towards his destination, savoring the moment. He heard the noise again, a quiet whimpering, from the door to his left. He entered to find himself in a nursery, and there caught in the corner were the two objects he had wanted to find. Lily and Harry Potter.

Lily's eyes widened as she saw him, and she wrapped her arms protectively around her son, trying to hide him, protect him.

"Lily Potter…. At long last I have finally managed to find you. I have `neutralized' your husband so to say. And now it is time for you once again to reunite. Ah, if it isn't the little Harry Potter. They say you might be the cause of my downfall, but I am here to prove to you, little child, that I am immortal."

Lily let out a sob. Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry.

"No!" Lily screamed, "Take me instead! Not Harry! Please not Harry! Take me-Kill me instead!" She stood protectively in front of the little Harry.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort said quietly. Lily was dead before she hit the ground in front of her son.

Voldemort turned to Harry. "You see, little Harry? See what I can do? You will not be the cause of my downfall, because you can't hurt me when you're dead! Avada Kedavra!"

The jet of green light emerged from Voldemort's wand, and flew straight towards Harry, hitting him in the forehead. Harry was immersed in the green light. He screamed and cried at the pain of being hit with the killing curse, when his body was not letting the curse take his life away. But then, the green light began flooding to one point, Harry's forehead. There was a small cut there, shaped like a bolt of lightning. The cut served as a focal point, and all the energy from the curse was contained there. The curse shot back at Voldemort, and Voldemort's body was taken away. It seemed like it took an eternity since he fired the curse, but it had only been mere seconds

The Dark Lord fled, in his ghostly form, and Harry was now the savior of the world.

All of the sudden, the little boy lying crying on the floor appeared in a cupboard, a few years older. His uncle was calling for him. The little boy walked out into the kitchen.

"BOY! I WANT YOU STANDING RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF ME THIS MINUTE! WHAT'S ALL THIS TALK I HEAR ABOUT YOU TURNING YOUR TEACHER'S HAIR BLUE? I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS ABNORMALNESS FROM YOU!"

The large man advanced on the little boy, and raised his hand.

Hermione was thrown back out into reality. She was sweating profusely. She looked at her parents. They looked the same as she felt.

"Did you-did you see what happened?" They nodded.

"My God," said Mrs. Granger. "Is that how his parents were actually killed? The poor boy, having to revisit it in his dreams. Who was that large man?"

"So you saw my nightmare then, did you?" Harry asked. Everyone jumped in shock; they didn't realize he had been awake.

Hermione wrapped him in a hug. "We're so sorry Harry! You were twitching and burning up, and then all of the sudden we entered your dreams and saw how your parents died and a little bit about your life at the Dursley's and I am so sorry!" She said this all in one breath.

"It's okay Hermione, I'm not mad at you. I just…. don't want you to have to see things like this." Harry looked towards Hermione's parents. They had their mouths open in horror.

"Does this happen-happen a lot?" Mr. Granger asked.

Harry looked at the ground and said grimly, "This is the first time I've actually had this dream. My dreams are usually filled with….other things. I've never actually gotten to see how they died. Over the years I've heard bits and pieces from that night, but not the whole thing."

"What about the bit when you were young and that large man was yelling at you?" asked Mrs. Granger timidly.

"That was me with my Uncle-just a little bit of my home life," Harry said coldly.

"Your Uncle-did he hit you?"

"More times than I care to count. Not as many times as my cousin hit me though, I was his punching bag." There were audible gasps.

"How-how do you live with this?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Funny, this is the most times I've ever been asked that question," Harry said irritably. "Let's just say that I have no choice in the matter." Harry ended with a drop-it-now voice.

"Harry, if you ever need to talk-"

"Everyone keeps trying to get me to talk! What if I don't want to talk! Why can't everybody just leave me alone!" The windows were beginning to crack. Hermione noticed.

"Harry! Please, you need to calm down!"

"Calm down? CALM DOWN? I CAN'T CALM DOWN WHEN EVERYONE IS TRYING TO DISCOVER THINGS ABOUT ME THAT I DON'T WANT THEM TO KNOW!"

The windows shattered. Harry's eyes began to glow the strange red color. Hermione placed her hands on the sides of his face and looked directly into his eyes. She could feel his anger, confusion, sorrow, and guilt bubbling beneath the surface.

"Please Harry. Please stop," she whispered into his ear. The glow began to disappear, and Harry soon became calm.

"I'm really sorry Hermione. I'm so sorry," he said, on the verge of tears. "I can't control myself, I don't know why but I can't. I'm so sorry."

She enveloped him in a hug. When they parted, Hermione could see tear tracks along his face.

Harry turned to face Hermione's parents. "Sorry about shouting and the windows. I'll fix them or pay for them, whatever it takes-"

"Harry that's really not necessary, everybody shouts," said Mr. Granger. He looked at Harry strangely, for Harry had just stood up and walked over to one of the windows. He placed his hand on it.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

"They're fixed. The windows are fixed. I didn't even do anything." The Grangers looked at him in amazement.

***

Harry lie awake shaking in his bed. He had just had a dream about Sirius, something that had not happened in a long time, not since he was in the hospital. The dream had brought about all the guilt and sorrow that Harry had recently forgotten. Like tidal waves they crashed upon the walls of his mind, permeating through to his core.

"Sirius…" whispered Harry to the darkness. The darkness actually seemed comfortable in this setting. It hid him from the rest of the world, making him invisible in its black blankets.

"Oh baby Potter, did you love him?"

Harry looked about trying to figure where it came from. And then realization hit him like a hammer to the head, he was hearing Bellatrix Lestrange's voice. The anger began taking over again.

I promise you Sirius, Bellatrix Lestrange will DIE!

Harry thought about how she said he had to mean to hurt someone for an Unforgivable to work. She told him he had to enjoy it. Well, taking her life would definitely entertain me now!

There was a rustling sound throughout the room as an unfelt breeze picked up. Harry's hair began to move in time with the breeze.

Wait a minute, why do I all of the sudden want to kill everybody? Harry felt sickened with himself. The breeze stopped and Harry brought his knees to his chest. There was a light knock on the door.

"Harry it's me," Hermione whispered, "is it alright if I come in?"

"Sure," said Harry absently. Hermione opened the door slowly, stepped inside Harry's room, and closed the door. She tip-toed over to the bed where Harry was sitting.

"I felt something, I was just checking to make sure you're okay," she said gently.

"I'm fine, I just-I was just thinking about Sirius," said Harry sadly. He felt as soft arms wrapped around him.

"I know how much you miss him," said Hermione softly, "he was more than just a godfather to you, wasn't he?"

"He-he was like a father, actually, since I never got to know my real father," Harry was having difficulty not crying. A small sob escaped.

"Shh," Hermione said soothingly, "it's okay."

"I just can't-help to think that I'm some sort of menace," Harry said all of the sudden. "Everybody I get involved with dies. My parents, they died because of me, Cedric died because he became my friend when he shouldn't have, and Sirius died because-because he got too close to me. You should back out now while you have a chance, Hermione. I've almost gotten you killed so many times, how much more luck do you have until you run out?" Tears were making their way down Harry's cheek.

"Harry….all those times you think you almost got me killed, they weren't your fault. I chose to be with you. It was my choice; you didn't force me to do anything. Like at the Ministry, I didn't just want to go with you, I needed to be with you, do you understand?" Hermione tried to explain.

"We didn't have to be there though. You were right. If we hadn't gone, if I had just listened to you, none of that would have ever happened! You knew it was a trap, but I wouldn't believe you. I was caught up in my own saving-people-mind, trying to make sure that Sirius was okay. I completely forgot about how reckless I was acting. It's all my fault!" Harry's sobbing was becoming more pronounced.

He felt small hands reach out onto his face, and he complied as they tilted his head towards their destination. He looked up, to find himself looking into Hermione's brown eyes.

"Harry…please listen to me very carefully. It-was-not-your-fault," she said, accenting every word on the last sentence.

Harry's resolve broke, and soon he was crying into Hermione's embrace. She cradled him until both of their breathing patterns slowed and became more rhythmic.

***

"Just look at them," said Mrs. Granger the next morning, "they look so comfortable."

"They do," Mr. Granger agreed. They were both standing in the entrance to Harry's room, looking upon the two young teenagers asleep on the bed together.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were not at all angry with their daughter or their house guest. There were no signs that they had done anything inappropriate, they had just fallen asleep comforting each other like best friends do. They knew. They knew and could see what Harry and Hermione could not see.

"Do you remember when we used to do this?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"Yes, all the time at the University," said Mr. Granger with a smile. He looked down at his watch. "Oh, come on, we're going to be late!"

With one last look towards the teenagers, Mr. and Mrs. Granger left.

***

A young man was standing in the center of a large stone room. The room was mostly barren save for a wooden target dummy and a few weapons mounted on the walls. He was grasping a beautiful sword tightly in his hands.

"Your training will now begin," a strong voice spoke from the doorway behind the young man. The young man turned around and kneeled before the person making his way toward him. The person revealed himself to be an older man with the aura of someone who knew how to handle himself.

"It is an honor to be learning from you, sir," said the young man.

"No," the older man said as he helped the young man up, "the honor is mine."

The older man guided the young man towards the wooden target dummy.

"Now, about your combat training. Combat is like an art; it takes skill, creativity, patience, and most of all, a strong will. There are, however, two different forms of martial training. One form is focused on the ability to use your knowledge of the body to make neutralizing strikes towards your opponent with your natural speed and strength. The second form is used with magic. This form requires a person to use their magical energy to charge their body, thus enhancing the speed and strength of body. While this form is generally more difficult, once mastered it is a vital ability. Of course, only those who are most magical, in this case I mean wizards, are able to completely master this technique." The old man pointed towards the wooden target dummy. "If I told you to strike this target as hard as you could with your hand, would you be able to dent it?"

"Is it charmed or enhanced in any way?" asked the young man.

"I can assure you that no magic has been used upon it," replied the older man.

The young man took a step towards the dummy. He meditated for a few seconds, trying to place all of his energy, his feeling, into the two largest knuckles on his right hand. He brought that hand down next to his side and curled it into a fist, while bringing his other hand out and pointing that closed fist at the chest of the dummy. In one, quick strike, the dummy was sent careening through the air.

The older man clapped, "Good, I was hoping you had covered this before. Now, let us begin with the real training."

All the training seemed to pass by in an instant, but Harry absorbed it all.

Harry woke up sweating and feeling as if he'd gone swimming all the way to North America.

But Harry smiled as he whispered to himself, "I know how to fight."

***

"Why can't I find him!" Voldemort shouted to himself. "He is somehow blocking me out!"

The large chamber doors opened. Voldemort knew who it was before the man even made himself known.

"What is it Lucius?" Voldemort said angrily.

"My lord, the Elementals-they're getting restless," said Lucius humbly as he kneeled.

"I know!" Voldemort spat. "Just stay out of their way and leave!"

"But Master, they've already killed four of the prisoners, and one of your followers who stood up against them in your name. Alderin, I believe his name was. The men are afraid, they want you to-" He was interrupted as Voldemort hit him with a spell that sent him careening.

"I told you," Voldemort was seething, "to leave!"

"Yes Master," said Lucius quickly as he stood up and got out of the room as quickly as possible.

"POTTER! WHERE ARE YOU!" Voldemort continued to shout and curse Harry's name.

"Well, well, well, what's all this ruckus?" asked the Shaman. Voldemort froze; he had not heard the Shaman enter the room.

"What do you want Shaman?" Voldemort asked, trying to mask his anger.

"Well Voldemort, since you asked so nicely," the Shaman said sarcastically, "I.Want.Out."

"What did you just say," Voldemort's eyes flared as he spun around to face the Shaman.

"I said," said the Shaman as if speaking to someone deaf, "that I want out!"

"And why do you want that?" Voldemort challenged.

"Let me let you in on a little secret," said the Shaman as he whispered in Voldemort's ear. "I'm tired of this hideout. I'm tired of your pathetic men who are not able enough to kill a child. I'm tired of doing nothing and just waiting for you to do something. I want to kill. I want to go after this Harry Potter. I want to convert him."

"You'll get your chance to convert him," said Voldemort icily. "Now is just not the time."

"And why not?" asked the Shaman angrily.

"Because I can't locate him, that's why!" Voldemort roared.

"Oh, is that it?" asked the Shaman. "That little problem can be easily solved."

"How?" asked Voldemort impatiently.

The Shaman smiled. "Which creature stands on two legs, has a long snout, has excellent tracking abilities, and loves to hunt?"

"The werewolf," said Voldemort agitatedly.

"Correct!" said the Shaman in a game show voice.

"And?" Voldemort asked.

"And what?" replied the Shaman.

"What else did you have in mind on how to locate Harry Potter," Voldemort was clearly getting very furious.

"I told you, we use a werewolf," said the Shaman.

Voldemort laughed. "And how are we supposed to control a werewolf?"

"Relax," said the Shaman coolly, "I deal with werewolves all the time. They're not that hard to control. No different than vampires or dementors."

"Yes, there's a big difference!" exclaimed Voldemort. "Dementors follow whatever dark leader is in charge, and vampires obey wizards that have powerful methods of, persuasion."

"You know, my Lord, I would think that you were afraid of werewolves if I didn't know better," said the Shaman slyly.

"Than it's a good thing you do know better, or else you wouldn't be alive," hissed Voldemort menacingly.

"What was that?" asked the Shaman dangerously. "Do not test my patience Voldemort."

Voldemort advanced on the Shaman. "I will test your patience as I see fit, Shaman. I do not fear you, but you do have reason to fear me."

"I would stop if I were you, Voldemort. You don't want to witness what happens when I get angry."

"No, you don't want to see what happens when I get angry," Voldemort was looking malicious. "I can do things you have never dreamed of, Shaman."

The Shaman was furious. His staff appeared in his hand, and he looked ready to hurt Voldemort.

"Do not make me hurt you Voldemort," the Shaman was barely controlling his rage.

"Look upon me now, Shaman, am I trembling?" asked Voldemort mockingly.

The Shaman let out a cry of rage and swung his staff around to hit Voldemort in the head. Right before it was to impact, however, it stopped. Voldemort's eyes flashed and his wand was in his long, white fingers. He pressed the tip of the wand against the Shaman's throat, who paled considerably. Voldemort looked the Shaman in his fearful eyes. Burns began to spread from the point of the wand against the Shaman's throat.

"I told you that there was reason to fear me. I am Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, and the most powerful wizard on this earth. Do not accuse me of cowardice; I fear nothing and no one. If I find you again trying to taunt me, you will find yourself in Hell!"

Voldemort lowered his wand, and faced the opposite direction. "Go, find your werewolf and track down Potter. Remember, I reward those who prove their loyalty."

The Shaman kneeled. "Yes my Lord." He then got up and stepped out of the room with a newfound fear. Lord Voldemort was indeed as dangerous as everyone said he was.

***

Well, how did you like this chapter? So far, this is the longest I've ever written for this story, and the next chapter should be even longer. Anyways, tell me what you think.

The Dark Sorceror


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