Chapter 1 - Descent

The sun sets on another peaceful day in suburbia. Little children hasten home as their mothers call out from front doors. Another day filled with the joy that only a child on summer holidays from school can know. Carefree days full of freedom and happiness.

However at one house this is only a façade. For one inside this house is living through hell on earth as if Lucifer has visited upon him. Not for him the peace and happiness of the laughing children outside. He never knew that. Oh no! for you see this young man is a freak, a criminal. He is not be trusted and is so dangerous that only his uncle can control him and he can never be let outside.

"God bless that man for taking him in even after all the heartbreak he has caused them", "and his aunt is so unwell" the neighbours say. If only they knew the truth.

The young man inside the house is of course our hero Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. A more apt description now would be The Boy Who Is Broken. His uncle, who the neighbours praise so much, is a beast you see. Three days after the boy had returned from St Brutus's his poor aunt had taken ill, and had to go to hospital and is still there four weeks later. So the 'gentleman' uncle has had free rein.

It all started the day after Aunt Petunia had gone to hospital. Vernon had returned from visiting with her and was in a foul mood. Harry had cooked dinner but Vernon's steak was overcooked.

"Come Here Now Boy" he screamed. "You know how I like my steak done".

Harry didn't have a chance to answer as Vernon launched himself at him at an amazing speed for a man of his girth. He punched Harry hard in the face and then in the stomach before Harry had even fallen to the floor. When he did fall he kicked him several times and then bent down and lifted him up by the collar.

"You will pay for this boy! It's your unnaturalness that has my wife on her deathbed. It's your fault"

"But Uncle ….." Harry tried to protest, but another punch to the face stopped him, and he fell into darkness.

When Harry awoke his body was wracked with pain. He couldn't move. He opened eyes but all was blurry. He figured he was in his room, but he couldn't be sure. Wherever he was his hands were tied behind his back and his feet were bound. He could feel the cold wall behind him and his bonds were tied to his bed post. He remembered what happened and a wave of nausea hit him as he realised just how bad his situation was. He started vomiting and passed out in a pool of his own blood and puke.

And so it went on for four weeks, each day the beatings got worse and the only food he was given was stale bread and water. He was forced to write to the order every third day and inform them that all was well. But surely they would twig something in his one liners:

Dear Prof Dumbledore,

I'm fine,

Yours, Harry.

At first he thought that they might drop in to see him personally but as time went on he realised that they were never going to. Why didn't Dumbledore come and take him away? Who knows? Did they write to him, Ron, Hermione, Lupin, anyone? He didn't know if had received any letters, but he was sure that if had his uncle had taken them. But then wouldn't they be worried about not getting any response other than "I'm fine". Did they care at all? Harry came to an understandable conclusion for one in his position: They obviously didn't care.

Now on the day before his sixteenth birthday all hope had left him, he was still grief stricken after Sirius, his friends and those who supposedly loved him had apparently abandoned him and he was truly broken.

Little did he know that his uncle had planned a very special birthday present for him.


Meanwhile Vernon Dursley arrived at a tiny ruin of a cottage, many miles from anywhere. He stopped the car and got out. It was a very dark night and there was a flicker of light from the window of the cottage. Gathering up his courage he entered.

As he opened the door he saw that there was a tall hooded figure sitting in the chair facing the fireplace, away from the door.

"You're late, Dursley" the figure said.

"I'm sorry, My Lord, please forgive me, the traffic was bad, and Potter took more time to take care of today" answered Vernon.

"I will let it go, this time. How is the boy?"

"I think he has lost any hope that his friends will do anything to help him, there's an emptiness in his eyes and I don't believe that he holds any hope for himself anymore"

"Good, very good; you have done well Dursley. You will be richly rewarded for your service."

"Thank you My Lord"

"Now you know that tomorrow is the boy's birthday, it's time to go in for the kill, so to speak. You know what you must do"

"My Lord, is it really necessary, he is broken already. I thought that was what you wished me to do"

"Never. Question. Me. Again. Crucio!"

Vernon collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony; after about ten seconds his antagonist lifted the curse.

"Get up Dursley, you're pathetic. As I said you know what you must do. Need I remind you that you agreed to this when you entered my service?"

"No My Lord, Please forgive me"

"As I was saying, you will complete the plan as specified. The boy will utterly despair, he will forsake his friends and the old fool and his useless order. He will turn to the dark. Then I will be able to simply walk up to the door and enter. If he turns, as he without doubt will, the wards will be useless against me. I will take him off your hands and you and your son will be free of him and your wife for good."

Vernon paled as he realised there was no way around what he had to do.

"My Lord, I knew when I joined you that this may necessary. It will be done"

"You just make sure of it. At noon tomorrow you will complete this task, receive your payment and be set free from my service. Now get out of my sight."

"Thank you My Lord"

Vernon quickly left the cottage.

Lord Voldemort turned to his aide who was hidden in the shadows.

"So tell me Bella, has he got the balls to do what is required of him?" asked the Dark Lord.

"Master, he has the fear of you in his heart, he will do it"

"Yes indeed. And so Potter is within my grasp, almost. With him I will be irresistible. All will bow before me with Potter at my right hand. I will train him in the ways of The Force, he will be my apprentice. He will lead my army and destroy all who oppose me. The people of this planet will both fear and love the name Darth Dominatus. I will bring order to the chaos of the world and will have absolute power over the destiny of all. Once this is complete, and have no doubt, Bella, that it will be, I will dispose of him."

'Oh no, not again' Bellatrix thought, as Voldemort went off on his rant, with his eyes glazed over, as he dreamed of his new world order. She didn't understand all this about The Force and apprentices, nor did she understand why he had taken to calling himself 'Darth Dominatus', but she did understand that Potter was powerful. Although she had mocked his cruciatus curse, it had been as powerful as the Dark Lord's. And she also knew that getting Potter on their side would in one fell swoop result in removing their greatest threat and gaining a great ally.

"But My Lord, if he has truly lost all hope will he not just submit to Dursley?" she asked.

"I will see to it that he regains some hope, tonight, and then Dursley and his pig of a son will quickly get the reward they so richly deserve" answered the Dark Lord. "Leave me now, Bella; I must make the connection with Potter."


That night Harry had a dream. Not just an ordinary dream, but the best dream he had ever had. He remembered it vividly when he woke. He had watched himself as he fought with a sword made of light. He could feel the power coursing through his body. He saw himself get revenge on all who had wronged him, from Uncle Vernon and Dudley through to Malfoy and Snape. He killed them all and it made him feel euphoric. He was no longer a little scrawny boy with glasses but a tall lean muscular man dressed in the finest of robes that shimmered in different colours as they rustled about his graceful body. The fight was like an elegant dance. He thought there was a beauty to his movement that was both poised and delicate, like a figure skater. They all threw every spell they had at him but they just bounced off his sword as he brandished it with an expert flourish, or he simply jumped, sometimes ten feet in the air, and the spells past harmlessly beneath him.

And then the fighting finished and he found himself in the most majestic palace he could possibly imagine. There was a ball commencing and the people there were happy and joyous. Harry still dressed in the fabulous robes arrived in a horse drawn carriage. He saw that Hermione accompanied him and his heart swelled. They alighted from the carriage and the crowds parted to let them pass. They made their way into the ballroom and through the centre to where on a raised dais, there were three thrones set up, one slightly higher at the back and two just in front, one slightly to the right and the other to the left. He was shocked when he saw who was sitting on the highest throne. There in all his glory, with the same robes as Harry had on, Voldemort presided over the ball.

He was Voldemort, yet he looked different, kindlier if such was possible. His eyes were no longer red slits but a quite normal very dark brown, with an almost friendly look in them. His nose was almost normal looking also. Harry watched in what was first disgust and then amazement as his dream self knelt and kissed the ring on Voldemort's finger. Then he proceeded to sit in the throne on Voldemort's right, while Hermione sat on the other. While Harry thought at first that this was clearly delusional it suddenly felt right. After a few minutes of surveying the ball Harry and Hermione stood to dance. Once they started dancing the hall faded. Harry found himself at another magnificent palace, although less grand than the first.

He saw himself and Hermione apparate in, and immediately three beautiful children ran at them and they all joined in a huge hug. There were two girls and a boy. One of the girls had long curly black hair while the other had straight brown hair. The boy who looked to be about five or six years old was about three years younger than the girls and was a mirror image of Harry at that age. He had messy black hair, but instead of striking green eyes he had the brown eyes of his mother. Harry's spirit truly soared as he witnessed his heart's deepest and most fervent desire.

And then unfortunately, as all good things must, the dream ended and Harry found himself back in his bedroom in Privet Drive, it was late in the morning. But instead of groaning in frustration, he rose. His bonds were broken, his wounds healed; and although he didn't clearly understand how it came to happen, there was no look of confusion in his eyes. There was determination and courage. No more for Harry Potter the world of being a pawn in some game played by the great and the good while he would merely do what he was told to do. No; the wizarding public who one day set him up on a pedestal as a hero and the next knock him low as a villain could all go to hell for all he cared. And as for Dumbledore, he had left him here to rot; he would show him. He would show them all. He would take his place, if it was needed, at Voldemort's side.

'The same Voldemort who killed your parents and was responsible for Sirius' death' he thought. 'Well so be it. It was all over some stupid prophecy. Who says I have to kill him or be killed by him. What if the two of us decided to join together like in the dream. We would know no fear. We would be strong. I would be strong. I would be happy. I would be powerful. And I could avenge Sirius from within.'

And for the first time in his short life Harry Potter desired fame, power and glory. He would achieve what he saw in the dream. As this feeling spread over him, he had unbeknownst to himself yet, left the path of the righteous; he had left the way of the Light and descended into the Darkness. He was overwhelmed with feelings of hatred for Uncle Vernon and the so called Minister of Magic, the two people most responsible for his lot in life, rage against Dumbledore, the Weasleys and the Order for leaving him in this hellhole, and amidst all this anger he was surprised to begin thinking of Hermione.

But he could feel no hatred for her. No she wasn't responsible for this, she had gone to America on holidays the day after school had finished. If she had been in England she would have demanded that the Order got him out of here, or she would have at least not taken his letters to Dumbledore at face value. And as he thought of Hermione his emotions calmed and he only felt love. His determination grew even stronger and he almost felt pity for Uncle Vernon for what was going to happen to him the next time he came into his room. Almost, but not quite.

And then the nature of his resolution dawned upon him. He had decided to join Voldemort, but his purpose did not waver nor would it ever. He would deal with Vernon and then he would seek out Voldemort. And at that moment he began to laugh at both the thought of his new found resolve and where it would lead him and the absurdity of the idea of The Boy Who Lived going off his rocker and joining forces with his mortal enemy. The papers would definitely have a field day.

And at the same moment, not too far away, the recently named Darth Dominatus laughed the same laugh as he sensed the new powerful disturbance in The Force in Privet Drive which was getting mightier by the second.


A/N: Please review, even if you don't like it. Any help, ideas and tips will be greatly appreciated.