Dark Rage: The Manipulator

The Dark Sorceror

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 05/08/2005
Last Updated: 31/08/2005
Status: paused

Follows HBP. Includes the Dark, multiple battles with Voldemort, a war within Harry, the chance for him to become the greatest of Dark Lords, a quest for the Horcruxes, and the realization that Love is indeed the most powerful force on the earth. Rated 'R' for language and intense/graphic violence.

Chapters

1. INSIGHT

2. BEGINNINGS

3. SMOKE AND ASH

1. INSIGHT

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and its affiliations; I don't own Merlin and the story behind him. The Dark and the Manipulator are my own ideas but I don't have them copyrighted so hey, they aren't mine either.

A/N: Ok, you'll probably be wondering why I started the story out this way. First off, I did this because these excerpts/entries/quotes will explain a lot in the story to come. Also, if you pay attention to what is said in the excerpts/entries/quotes, you will learn that there are a few hints of the plot and what is in store for some of the characters. In the main story these books and journals will have a major role in the outcome of the plot. This is also just to give you a taste of my writing nowadays and to see if you like it. Call this chapter the appetizers of the fanfic.

***

There is a certain breaking point in a witch and wizard. When they reach that point, they usually snap and go into a rant of anger that had so far been bottled up. But in some occasions, when a really powerful witch or wizard goes past the breaking point, something far worse happens. They channel power from all their worst experiences. Their rage becomes the ultimate destructive force. And usually, in this rage, the witch or wizard becomes a darkened version of themselves. The rage exiles the love, the anger covers the happiness, and the sane become insane. They become evil; cruel and ruthless.

But in theory, on extremely rare occasions, the witch or wizard's magical ability is amplified instead of added on to; wherein they become magic itself, and can control all of magic and everything that magic is a part of. They become an entity, a god, omnipotent; controlling anything and everything they want to.

- Excerpt from Magical Entities and Abilities

***

No one knows exactly why a wizard turns dark. Most believe it has to do with background. The way they were brought up- the way they were treated. But some believe in something else entirely. They believe in an ethereal force that turns a normally pure heart and mind into one full of hatred. They believe that no creature is capable of creating evil unless the evil in itself is being channeled through them. They believe that evil is ethereal force itself; and that as it takes over hearts and minds it spreads, like a virus it creates an evil that infects all those whom it can touch.

- Excerpt from Dark Wizards and Their Beginnings

***

For eons Dark Lords have been thought to be gods. All those who fear them are subject to their rule. But why is it that Dark Lords are so powerful? Is it just inherent; that all those who use Dark magic to their advantage become more powerful than the average wizard? Or does Dark magic make them stronger? Or possibly, the ones most attracted to the nature of the Dark Arts are those who possess innate abilities in magic? But quite possibly, and this thought is debated furiously, Dark magic and the Dark Arts don't exist, and that ones who use this so-called `darkness' are actually using a non-siding magic in a cruel way. Many people believe that magic is neither good nor evil; it is how you use its many forms in a certain situation.

- Excerpt from Dark Magic: An Analysis

***

What is the Dark? It is a question that has been asked for millennia. No one exactly knows what it is. However, there seems to be a large connection between what is considered a `Dark Art' and the abilities the Dark possesses. There have been numerous encounters over the ages; wizards and witches claim to have met the `ghost' who names itself the Dark. They say that it controls your thoughts, your feelings, and your actions. It puts a piece of itself inside you, so that it commands you to do with what it wishes. It also possesses a power beyond what any wizard or witch could possible dream of acquiring. It IS magic; meaning that it neither needs a wand or incantations. They are trivial. It is connected to magic, meaning that magic does for it what it wants, because it is the magic being commanded. No witch or wizard can stop it; no magical creature can stop it. It is a forever existing force; with no real purpose other than to control all those it deems the most powerful.

- Excerpt from Theories of the Dark

***

I heard a prophecy today. Of a child who would have the ability to purge the world of darkness. It is said this child will fall into chaos; but will rise again as the savior of magic. I can only hope this prophecy is true. For too long I have hunted down pawns of evil with no end in sight. After my most trusted friend betrayed me I am growing weak with all the darkness weighing down inside and all around me. I have already foreseen my end is near.

- From the Journal of Godric Gryffindor—Entry dated 5 August 982

***

After being entombed in this wretched magical cave by Nyneve, I saw something. It played out in my mind as if I was watching theatre. Two god-like forces, more powerful than anybody I had ever seen, were fighting, trying to destroy the other so they could eradicate the others ideals. One force was darkness in itself; whilst the other was pure of heart and innocent. Should the darkness win; evil and malice would rule the world and every last living thing in it would be destroyed. Should the force of good win; all evil would forever perish and the world and people would prosper until the end of their days. I can only hope that darkness will lose.

- From an inscription on a cave wall

***

His Love is the key to the end of Darkness.

- Cassandra Trewlaney

***

A new Dark Lord shall arise if She does not stop Him.

- Famed Seer Agatha Rulke

***

The Love of one person overcomes the Hatred of a thousand.

- Albus Dumbledore

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2. BEGINNINGS

Dark Rage: The Manipulator

~*Beginnings*~

***

Darkness lies in the eye of the storm.

***

It had been storming for the past two and a half weeks in the area surrounding Little Whinging, Surrey. With each passing day it grew larger, stronger, and more ominous. It was most unusual, everyone agreed; none of them had ever witnessed or even heard about a storm lasting for more than a couple of days at most.

Muggle scientists were busy trying to find the source of such a storm. The theories on its creation ranged between a `major climate shift' to the desalinization of the oceans.

European wizards, however, were completely baffled. It couldn't have been made by magic, could it? Seriously, wizards don't have the power to create storms. Or do they? It was a very uncomfortable thought. If wizards were able to make storms, then the only person capable of it at the moment would be He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was a thought that would make one shiver. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was already the most powerful wizard on the planet, but if he could make storms…..It's the end of us all! Some thought.

There was one person, however, who could care less at the moment about some stupid storm. The young man, Harry Potter, had his thoughts focused on one thing and one thing only—the death of his mentor and friend Albus Dumbledore. However, unlike with Sirius, Harry did not believe himself guilty for Dumbledore's death. It was all Snape's fault. When I get my hands on his neck... There was a thrash of lightning and a roar of thunder outside as Harry felt intense hatred flowing through his veins.

Harry stood up in his small room, his head almost touching the now low to him ceiling. Over the past two and a half weeks he had grown and filled out considerably. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was allowed to eat now over the summer. Knowing that Harry was almost an adult had scared the Dursleys so much that he now had as much freedom as he wanted. For most of the days this summer, Harry had watched the muggle news and read the wizarding paper—the Daily Prophet. There were multiple Death Eater attacks every day.

Muggles didn't understand the Dark Mark though and could not find a significant cause of death on any victims of attacks. The only theory so far was the one that had been used in the past—the victims were scared to death. But to Harry and other wizards, the cause of death was apparent—the unstoppable killing curse.

And every time there was an attack, the angrier Harry became. Voldemort was after HIM, and was killing all those on the road to Harry. Harry was the only one who possessed the abilities to stop Voldemort, and every death put more guilt in Harry's heart. More people were dying because Harry could not put a stop to Voldemort. The compounding deaths were taking a toll on him; his burdens felt heavier and heavier with each passing day.

***

“Hello Harry.”

Harry spun around on the spot, trying to find the source of the voice. “Who-Who's there?” he called out.

“I'm right here,” the voice said from behind him. Harry spun around—there was nothing there.

“Where?” he called out.

“Right next to you.” Harry turned to find himself face to face with a shadowy version of himself. Then, without warning, the shadowy person leaped at Harry. But instead of taking him to the ground, the shadow went inside him. Harry screamed in agony.

Harry took a huge gulp of air as he woke. He flung off the covers of his bed and looked at his exposed skin. There was nothing there. Sighing in relief that it was just a dream, Harry tried to settle back down to sleep. Sleep never came for the rest of that night.

***

It had been four days now since Harry slept. He was afraid to even close his eyes for a moment now. He had been having…disturbing visions lately. His nightmares of late had been of torturous nature. The shadow that had been in his dream before came back again and again, but each time the nightmares seemed to grow longer. His last one had been most disturbing. It had started out as the scene in which Dumbledore was killed right before his eyes. He watched Dumbledore plead with Snape, and then watched, unable to help Dumbledore, as he was murdered.

But then the scene replayed; and instead of Snape standing before Dumbledore, Harry had his wand pointed towards the helpless Headmaster of Hogwarts. A tiny whispering sound reached his ears.

Kill him.

And Harry listened as the whisper washed over him, filling him with a darkness that had not been there before. With his wand pointed at his pleading mentor, Harry uttered two words unforgivable.

“Avada Kedavra.”

Dumbledore slumped to the ground, lifeless, and the fear still showing on Dumbledore's lifeless eyes brought him a feeling of power he had never yet before felt. It made Harry believe himself to be invincible.

You've done well.

The whispering spoke again, and Harry was glad that he had pleased the voice. But then, the darkness began to fade, and the realization of what he had done hit him full force. He instantly woke up and had not closed his eyes since.

The unending consciousness was making him extremely tired; but he dared not sleep. The addictive feeling of power he had gotten from `killing' his Headmaster frightened Harry.

***

Harry had not received any mail so far. Not a single owl had arrived at his window. Harry was quite pissed. It seemed that breaking up with Ginny had caused her to not want to talk to him anymore; and with Ron and Hermione seemingly together, they probably had no want to talk to him, being too busy with each other.

Not only had that upset him, but now Harry's owl Hedwig gone missing. He had let her out to hunt one night, and she never came back. Hedwig had been a gift from Hagrid—his first friend—and now she had gone and disappeared somewhere. Harry let out a cry of anger. Thunder could be heard; rolling in from afar.

***

Everywhere there was darkness. Light did not exist in this realm: only the total black of lightless world.

There were voices, dark ones, demonic ones. They were echoing throughout the dark and desolate place. They mingled, intertwined; growing in volume and maliciousness.

They reached Harry's ears, yet Harry could not decipher what they were saying. It sounded almost like…

“Avada Kedavra, maybe?” It was the voice of that shadow version of himself, the one who was part of several of his nightmares.

Harry spun to face him, but he could not see anything in this unending blackness.

“Say it with me, Harry.”

“No.” Harry was not going to have happen in this dream what happened in the other one. It still brought shivers to him just thinking about it.

“Say it,” the voice demanded.

“No.”

“Say it!”

“No!”

“SAY IT NOW!”

“SHUT UP!!”

Harry felt the darkness start to fill him up again as his frustration with the voice grew. It began traversing throughout his veins; like a poison it spread to every part of his body. The darkness then reached his mind, and all coherent thought left as it took control of Harry's mental functions.

“Say it,” the voice repeated venomously, quietly this time; nothing but a whisper.

“Avada Kedavra.” Harry did as he was told and saw the unstoppable killing curse eject from his wand.

Harry woke up to a flash of green light—a flash he had seen many times before—and the faint laugh of the voice that was in his recurring nightmares. Sweating profusely, Harry glanced around his room. It was light outside. Good, Harry thought, Uncle Vernon's most likely at work, Dudley's probably off with his friends, and Aunt Petunia's probably…doing something. At least I won't have to deal with them for a while. He continued looking around. The far wall of his room was smoking slightly, and there was a large black scorch mark surrounding a jagged hole in the drywall.

Uh oh.

He was in serious trouble now. Not only had he damaged his Uncle's home, he had also cast the most dangerous and illegal curse; and knowing how the Ministry of Magic liked to pick on him for underage magic use, he would most likely have his wand destroyed and get shipped to Azkaban soon.

He quickly got all of his stuff together so that he could leave in a hurry if need be. Usually, the Ministry responded to magic use in under a half hour.

No letter ever came in the next hour, and Harry thanked all the deities and gods out there that he could be so lucky. His anxiety eased at the possibility of being sent to prison and he relaxed for a little while on his bed.

***

“The colossal storm that recently began to plague a small town in England has now spread across the country, heading towards the mainland. Scientists and meteorologists alike are still trying to find the cause of such a powerful storm. So far it shows no sign of stopping. Jay the Weatherman will explain more—“

Harry had been walking down from his room later that night to find the Dursley family's eyes glued to the television. All of them were worried about this `unending storm', and had not missed any new updates that had been posted the last couple of days. Harry on the other hand, was not worried but rather intrigued by the storm. He had never heard of one lasting so long, and he was beginning to wonder if whether what was in the Daily Prophet was true. Maybe it was created by magic.

Anyways, Harry left the living room and entered the kitchen to get himself something to eat. He hadn't had any food for a while now, and was dead starving. He opened the fridge and found a leftover steak. He reheated it in the microwave and when it was finished, he sat down to eat.

“Hey,” said Dudley as he too walked into the kitchen, “that's my steak!”

“Mine now,” said Harry as he took a rather large bite of the delicious meat. “Mmm that's good,” he taunted. He smiled inwardly as he saw his cousin long for the steak.

“Give it,” said Dudley, his face expressionless.

“No,” said Harry with a smile. He loved irritating his cousin. Besides, his cousin didn't need the steak; he could just use the stored energy in his metric ton of blubber.

“I want my steak back,” Dudley whined. Instantly, Aunt Petunia arrived at the sound of her son's displeased voice.

“What is it Diddikins?” she asked, looking sweetly at her beloved son and then glaring at Harry.

“He has my steak,” Dudley said, trying his best to win his mother over and have her confiscate it from his hated cousin.

“You, boy!” she barked at Harry. “That's our food, not yours! Give my son back his rightful meal!”

“Nope, not going to happen,” said Harry with a smug smile.

Harry's Uncle Vernon then entered the room at the shout of his wife. “What's going on?” he asked his wife. She explained the situation.

“Boy! You don't deserve that food! We worked for it while you did nothing but lounge about all day!” his Uncle snapped.

“Yea, I'll bet you did,” said Harry coolly. He was quite enjoying this.

“Give it to me you ungrateful son of a whore!” Aunt Petunia clapped her hands over her mouth, looking shocked at what Dudley had just said.

The whole tone of the room changed instantly. He stood up to his full height, and found that he was taller than everybody in the room. Harry looked at his cousin, his eyes alight with fury. “My mother was not a whore,” he said coldly.

Dudley and the rest of the Dursley family began to back away from him as Harry's eyes began to glow. The lights started to flicker, and soon they went out completely. The hair on the back of their necks and on their arms began to stand up as a small crackling sounded in the room. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed as Harry advanced towards them. All that could be seen in the darkness was the light given off from Harry's pupil-less red eyes.

“I mean it boy, stop this nonsense this instant!” Uncle Vernon tried to issue a threat, but the wavering in his voice completely sent it down the drain.

“Or what?” asked Harry, his voice filled with a cold fury. “Will you beat me and lock me in the cupboard under the stairs like you used to?” Harry's questions went unanswered. Darkness began to rise up in his body again. Blood was pounding in his ears. The darkness touched his mind…all coherent began to take its leave…

Harry grabbed his cousin's shirt by the collar and looked at him straight in the eye. He saw the fear there and he knew that it was because of him that the fear was there. The addictive feeling returned, and he needed to feel more.

He raised his wand and pointed it at his cousin's face….

***

A/N: I hope you liked this chapter. I decided to skip straight to the action and the darkness first revealing itself to Harry. And, just to let you know, this story starts out dark and will be dark throughout its entire telling. Also, the following chapters should be longer than this, so don't worry about the length of this fic.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.

The Dark Sorceror

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3. SMOKE AND ASH

Dark Rage: The Manipulator

~*Smoke and Ash*~

Darkness. Pure unending darkness. A dark world filled with dark memory.

Whispers…

You are darkness now…

I am darkness…

You now know true power…

I know true power…

You will defeat that which seeks to defeat you…

I will defeat them…

All that is good in this world is your enemy…

They are my enemy…

Everyone left you…

They all left me…

And now you will seek revenge on all those who betrayed you!

I will get my revenge!

***

Harry woke with a pounding headache. Quickly what had just happened began to elude him, and soon he forgot everything that had occurred except the last few words `I will get my revenge!'

Shaking slightly, Harry stood up from his uncomfortable position on the ground and stretched, his joints protesting at the motion.

It was then that Harry realized he had no idea where he was. He was inside some small house, it seemed. Strangely though, all the furniture was flipped and torn and some of it lay in great piles of ash. The walls were crumbled; drywall and plaster littering the scorched carpet that covered the ground. Half the ceiling was caved in, and all the light bulbs in the room that he could see were blown out. The ground in front of him seemed unstable, and when he took a step forward it creaked as if ready to break.

Where am I?

To his right was a doorway, and slowly and cautiously he inched forward until he passed through. It was a small kitchen, with muggle devices that had been decimated; the wiring was showing and the metal was melted. The cabinets above the stove and such had fallen, somewhat crushing the objects beneath it.

Littered amongst the ground were utensils, pots, and pans. Half the objects were melted, while some were bent and twisted in odd ways.

The window above the half smashed sink was shattered, the glass not inside but outside, near a burnt oak tree that looked to tower over the small house.

In the kitchen, there was a staircase as well. Carefully, Harry climbed the staircase, flinching each time the floorboards sounded as if they were cracking under his weight. About a minute later, Harry was at the top and peering around at an upstairs floor with only two doors: one on his right and one on his left. He turned right and entered the room cautiously, instinctively reaching for his wand just in case whatever had caused this damage was still inside the room, waiting for him to enter unprepared. However, his wand was nowhere to be found. It was nowhere on his person. With a deep sense of unease, Harry continued on inside the room and found it to be a bedroom. A large four-poster bed with torn, dust-covered red and gold sheets greeted him. The room was not that large, and aside from the bed there were two nightstands, one on each side, and then a large cherry dresser across from the bed. The room looked as if it had not been used in a long time.

There were two other doors inside this room, one that Harry found to lead to a somewhat large, walk-in closet; the other lead to a simple bathroom that contained a toilet, a sink, and a bathtub/shower. Straight across from where he entered, there was another door. Finding nothing of interest to look at in the bathroom, Harry proceeded and opened the new door.

Inside was small room that looked as if it had belonged to a child. There was a small crib adjacent to the wall across from him. In front of the crib, however, was a large, jagged hole surrounded by many a scorch mark. Only then did Harry notice that the windows were completely blown out and half the wall behind the crib was missing. He could see the woods surrounding this quaint home.

This room, however, seemed quite familiar.

A flash of green light.

Harry jumped in surprise and closed his eyes; he had just seen a flash of green in his vision. And then he remembered. This was where his mother had sacrificed herself for him. This is where Voldemort condemned him to his fate.

The night my parents were murdered.

Harry opened his eyes. The room was back to normal. The wall wasn't missing, the windows were in good quality, and the floor looked as if it had never even been touched. There was a small giggling sound. A baby was in the crib. Harry stepped over to it and looked down at the baby within. The baby had black hair and was staring up at Harry with bright, green eyes. There was no scar on the baby's forehead.

Harry reached down to pick up the smaller version of himself, but his hands passed right through the baby and the crib. Like being in a penseive. Harry looked up away from the haunting face of his baby self. There was a calendar on the wall. It was October 31st, the very day his parents were taken from him. And now he was going to relive it. But something caught his eye. Inside the box marked October 31st were the words Mommy and Daddy's Anniversary!

A soft cry echoed from within Harry. He had never known. My parents died on their anniversary. What a wonderful present that must have been, death. All because Voldemort wanted me.

There was a crash downstairs. Quickly Harry turned and left the room, jumping down the staircase and ending up in the family room.

James Potter was standing with his wand pointed towards the front door. To his left, in the kitchen, was Lily, standing above the remains of a glass vase that used to hold flowers. Her wand was in her hand.

“I'm going to help you James.”

“Not this time Lily.”

The front door blew off of its hinges, extending outward and ricocheting off of James' quickly conjured shield. The first Death Eater to enter the room was blasted away by an orange jet of light sent out by Lily. He hit the wall, slid to the ground, and didn't get back up.

Quickly, two more entered, but were quickly eliminated as James transfigured a piece of glass into a cricket bat and charmed it to hit them both over the head, knocking them out cold. Silly Death Eaters, trying to take out the most talented wizard of the Hogwarts class of '77.

Lily and James really were a formidable couple of magi. Without much difficulty they were able to stop the Death Eaters that had so far come their way. But then, they both sensed it. So much Dark Magic could be picked up even by a muggle. Voldemort.

“Lily, it's him! Take Harry and go while I hold him off!”

Quickly Lily rushed up the stairs, rushing into her son's room. He was crying. She gently picked him up and cradled him in her arms.

Back downstairs, James Potter and the former Tom Riddle stood facing each other with their wands pointed unflinchingly at their enemy. Both looked ready to spring to action at the slightest hint of motion.

“I had no wish to fight you James.”

“Somebody needed to stand up against you.” James was glaring at Voldemort with intense hatred burning in his eyes.

“They needn't have died James. Their lives were in your hands, and you failed them. You made the wrong choice.”

“You think they would have lived anyway? They never believed in your ideals. They always hated you. Even if I had joined you, you would still have slaughtered them.” The fire in James Potter's eyes increased tenfold.

The two wizards stood in silence for a few moments.

“You're no match for me James. It is true; you are gifted; more powerful than even Dumbledore probably. But you lack experience. You lack knowledge of true magic. Even Dumbledore knows many things about the Dark Arts. You've never even touched a Dark Arts book. Quite an ally you could have been.”

“I've always hated the Dark Arts, Riddle.” James spat, “true magic does not lie in darkness.”

“You're no match for me,” Voldemort repeated.

A silver streak of lightning rushed towards Voldemort, but the silver shield Harry had seen once before appeared in his hands once again. The shield deflected the spell, and Voldemort retaliated with an “Avada Kedavra!”

James summoned a piece of furniture; it took the impact of the spell and was incinerated. Responding, James sent a jet of red light towards Voldemort, who was blown backward by the sheer force of the spell behind it. Harry was impressed with the power his dad possessed.

Harry was drawn back to the duel as James transfigured the sofa off to the side into a magnificent lion, which instantly lunged into action. Its claws tore at Voldemort robes, sometimes slicing into the flesh, but the many Killing Curses sent towards the lion soon dispelled it.

And so the duel went on, and Harry was amazed by the skill and speed of his father. He was dueling like Albus Dumbledore had in the Department of Mysteries.

Harry's joy was short lived when suddenly; Voldemort conjured many snakes which curled up around him. Every spell that James sent towards the monstrous congregation of snakes was deflected and blasted into the walls. Moments later the snakes fell to the ground, and Voldemort was nowhere to be seen.

Realization dawned in James' eyes, along with a large sense of fear. As quick as he could, he began destroying the snakes with the Reductor Curse. A small group of snakes slithered past him and one broke away from the group, hiding under a toppled chair. While James was looking the other way, the snake left its hiding place and slowly turned back into what it truly was.

With James' attention still on the few snakes left, it was no hard feat for Voldemort to quickly remove from James his wand, and another spell sent James straight into the wall. Crumpled at the ground, defeated, lay James, and Voldemort proudly stepped over to him, grabbing his face and forcing it to look at his opponent.

“You're not the one to bring me down,” Voldemort sneered.

Before Voldemort raised his wand, James looked straight up into his inhuman eyes and spoke clearly:

“No, Harry is.”

And with a smile still on his face James fell lifelessly back to the ground as the unstoppable Killing Curse impacted his head.

A tear escaped Harry's eye as he witnessed, for the first time, the death of his father. Swiftly, Harry followed Voldemort's long strides toward the upper part of the house.

***

Upstairs, baby Harry let out another cry as his father was killed. Somehow, baby Harry knew that James had been defeated. Lily, startled by the sudden outcry, held on to baby Harry tighter as she frantically looked for some way to escape. A new, powerful Anti-Apparation ward had been set up, preventing her from apparating away with her son. Anti-Portkey wards had also been set up, so portkeying was not possible. She had tried the door, only to find that it had been magically sealed.

Intense fear flowed through her. There was no way to escape. Voldemort would find them in here and kill them. No sooner had she thought that than the door was blown inwards and in strode Voldemort. Lily let out a cry as the realization of her husband's death set upon her.

“Don't fret, Lily, I'm not here to kill you. All I want is Harry. James I killed for sport.”

Lily sniffled as Voldemort spoke of killing her husband as if it was a game. But her resolve was unshakeable. She held baby Harry closer to her, trying to protect him as mothers do.

“You can't have him, Voldemort.”

“Stand aside Lily.” Voldemort said threateningly.

“No, Voldemort! Take me instead!”

“I said stand aside Lily!” Voldemort's voice grew louder.

Tears were escaping Lily's eyes freely as imminent death grew closer in her mind.

“Please not Harry!”

“Stand aside, you silly girl!”

“Not Harry! Please not Harry! Take me, kill me instead!”

“Avada Kedavra!”

Lily Potter fell to the ground, dead, still clutching her only son to her chest. Hesitating slightly, but quickly returning to normal, Voldemort wrenched the baby free from his mother's arms. The small child was crying, screaming “Mummy!”

“So this is the child said to have the Power I Know Not? Pathetic. I expected more from the son of James.”

Tossing the baby to the floor, Voldemort pointed his wand at the horror-stricken child.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A green flash of light.

A white light surrounded the one-year-old child as the curse hit him in the forehead. The baby screamed in pain as death tried to grab him but was not able. Another scream of pain joined in as Voldemort felt his soul get ripped from his body. The body soon was encased in fire hotter than the sun, and swiftly turned to nothing but smoke and ash.

And then, the body of Lily Potter and the form of a small, bleeding child disappeared, leaving Harry once again in the ruins of the place he knew had once been called his home in Godric's Hollow.

***

“And the hunt is still on for one Harry Potter, suspected arsonist and murderer of the peoples residing in Privet Drive; a small suburb of Surrey. It has been four months now since the crimes were committed, and most authorities believe him to be in hiding-“

Detective Evans of the Metropolitan Police Department switched off the television. He was tired of hearing about murders and the like; listening to reports and examining crime scenes for the last seventeen years really pissed him off.

A knock at the door caused him to stop complaining to himself his frustrations. “Come in.”

“Detective, Jones would like to see you in his office.”

Ahh, shit. Having to talk to Jones in his office usually means bad news.

Sighing, Detective Evans got up and headed towards the office at the end of the hall. Reaching the door, he knocked, heard a “Come in, please”, and entered.

“Please, Detective, sit.” The Detective sat down in the indicated chair and looked at his superior. He was a short man with grizzled brown hair. He always wore a crisp suit and tie and always was clean-shaven. Detective Evans didn't like him at all.

“You wanted me here, sir.” Detective Evans wanted this conversation over with as soon as possible.

“Oh, yes, Detective. I've assigned you to the Potter case. Local police haven't been able to do a thing, and they requested help from the best.”

Damn.

“Yes, sir. I'll get started right away.” Evans cursed inwardly.

“Good. Here are the reports, photos, witness names, etc. Good luck.”

“Thank you, sir.”

***

The magical world was in an uproar. Dumbledore was dead and Harry Potter had been missing for four months now. Most believed him to be dead, kidnapped by Voldemort and then killed. Some, although, thought that he was just in hiding; being protected by the Ministry's Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement since he was the chosen one.

The storm that was ever growing had been forgotten for the time-being. Harry Potter was much more important than the storm. His disappearance from his Aunt and Uncle's residence shocked the Ministry. Most thought he had died in the fire that burned down Number Four, Privet Drive, along with the surrounding houses, but his body was not found amongst the charred remains of the houses' occupants.

The only explanation the Ministry had so far was that the houses and surrounding area had been destroyed by Voldemort (although there was no Dark Mark found in the sky; a signal that Voldemort always uses after killing, destroying, etc.) and that Harry had somehow escaped.

But still, the MLE investigations would continue until more evidence was found.

***

Hogwarts had not opened the coming school year. The new Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, had decided that with the disappearance of Harry Potter and the death of Albus Dumbledore, many families would not feel their children were safe if the Chosen One was not within the school walls. As such, all the students were in their homes, waiting for any news or hints of the school's opening.

Minerva McGonagall believed that the school would never again open until Voldemort was defeated; but this concept seemed highly unlikely. Voldemort was extremely powerful, and with Dumbledore gone….

And so, Minerva McGonagall closed the doors of Hogwarts and locked them, not knowing if they would ever open again.

***

The Burrow was a somber place. There was no more cheerfulness, no more joy. With the news of Harry's disappearance and the knowledge that Hogwarts may never open again, most people were just not happy.

Bill and Fleur had had their wedding; but it seemed meaningless. Nobody was truly feeling utter joy and peacefulness that day, as weddings should be filled with. The facades everyone had up could not really mask what they were truly feeling.

But, out of everyone at the Burrow, Ron had it the worst. He did not know if his best friend was alive or if he was six feet under. His days were spent in solemn desperation. Every day he wondered if he would ever see his friend again.

***

With everything that had happened, Hermione decided to stay with her parents. She had not really been with them for a long time. She would always go off and stay with Harry and Ron.

Her parents were overjoyed at the fact that they would now have more time with their daughter. But they didn't know the true reasons why Hermione was there.

She wanted to be away from everyone. She did not want them to see her this way. She had been watching the news, and Harry's face had popped up and instantly she was drawn to what was being said. The muggle world believed Harry to be a murderer and an arsonist. They thought that Harry would do such awful things. It was just too much.

And then, over the hours and days and weeks, her parents began to grow worried. Their daughter was neither speaking nor making any form of communication whatsoever. When asked about it, Hermione would just say, “Everything's fine,” and walk somewhere else.

And each day, she wondered where Harry was.

***

A/N: Well I hope this wasn't too boring or anything. Many of the things in here, however, needed to be said and will be important in future chapters.

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

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