DESTROY

This is a Harry Potter fic, but it is kind of wierd and it mentions no names, so see if you can figure out who's point of view it is from.

I don't own Harry potter. This is AU. There is a lot of OOCness.

Death

Death is a noun. It means the ending of all vital functions or processes in an organism or cell. It can also mean the condition or quality of being dead or the destruction or extinction of something. It means the end and he knew the end all too well.

He watched so many people succumb to death. Friends, family, and people he had never even met before died in front of him and he could really care less. If he cared that they were dead and he got upset over it, so who's to say that someone would not come and stab him in the back because of it.

He did not enjoy ending the life of another person, but he less enjoyed his own life being ended. He once came so close to death that he had promised himself it would never happen again. So he fought on his own. He was no longer evil, or fighting for that side, but he was not fighting for good.

He would never allow himself to be a slave for an organisation that used all of its employees as pawns, things and people that could be sacrificed for the greater good of everyone else. Or more appropriately, the chosen one. To fight for good was to put your life in the hands of a sixteen year old boy who had no idea magic was real until he was eleven years old, who too often let his emotions rule over his judgement and who put his faith in a senile old wizards whose main goal in life was to save the world from impending evil. He did not like the idea of fighting for good. And to fight for evil was a death sentence waiting to happen. You fought for an insane snake like weird excuse for a human being who only cared about destroying everything light and pure and turning the wizarding and witching race into a bunch of maniacs who cared little about population and more about ethnic culture, almost every follower was either completely insane, totally deranged or wholly out of their bloody minds and if one of the completely insane, totally deranged or wholly out of their bloody mind followers failed, they would live to be tortured into a million fragments of their mind, begging for death, crying, whimpering, bleeding from every pore yet being unable to die without the hand of the torturer and when they did die, the torture would be combined with the means of an end to create, instead of a numb, sudden end, a torturous, prolonged end. He didn't much fancy that aspect of the war either.

And he met others who wished the same things he did: If all the races of the world are going to do in their generations is fight, why doesn't the whole world just blow up and save the people left from picking up the pieces.

He lived as a mercenary, a killer for hire, with these people throughout the war. Armies would ask him, and his comrades or which there was five, all of them male, to fight in a battle to help give one side stronger forces. They were paid and then they left. They travelled over the war torn country, strewn with bodies and smoke, only being found when they so wished. He enjoyed travelling with his five comrades and later, friends. They were loyal and he was the leader. It was strange that he was seventeen and they were aged from eighteen to twenty six. But they were all strong and that was their strength. They trained when they weren't moving or fighting. Magic was a weapon that was used at long distance, but spells rarely worked long distance in permanently deactivating opponents. And to survive you needed to be strong, even when you had magic. So they fought one another and the practiced their running, weights and agility. The only way to survive is to fight. And walk and fight they did until the war finished.

He was nineteen when the war ended. Two years of living off of the land and morsels of food that was their payment for fighting. By the end they were almost skin and bone, barely human, more skeleton. He looked at his friends and he knew that they trusted him to save them from destruction. He was like the Chosen One. People expected him to do more than he could and he let them believe that because deep inside he knew that he could win even if it meant lives had to be lost. But he wouldn't let them die, he would let none of his friends die because he was the leader, he was the protector and he was who they counted on to see them through. And he did.

It was the last month of the war. Famine, war, strife and death were everywhere and he waited for the midday rush at the market stalls and took fruit and bread and water. He brought them back to his friends and he had never seen them so worshipful. He now knew how The Dark Leader felt to have the power over life and death yet he wasn't evil and he didn't want his friends, not followers, soldiers or pawns, to die. He was a protector, not a dictator and he would serve his purpose well. The meal would do until their next battle.

The next battle came at the end of the war, the last battle, the one that would determine the future of the wizarding world. Both armies were weak and running short of supplies. The war was too long and it needed to end before the world was destroyed, so one last battle would be fought. It was at the last neutral location on the planet.

That neutral location was Stevens Ridge, named after Maria Steven who plunged herself into the rocky gorge after her husband and mate was murdered by her brother. It was tragic and that was why it was neutral. it was desolate and no army bases were on the location, and the dark was advancing. So the light decided to stop them before they could destroy the desolate ridge and make it the final base. From there they could infiltrate all of the light bases and eventually ensure the end of the Chosen One, one ally at a time.

So The Light propositioned them to fight in the battle and they agreed, but the price was large. If the war is won by the dark, then no payment would be issued because, if the mercenary band managed to survive and so did they that propositioned them, the propositioners would be at the end of a wand curse.

If the light won, then payment would be simple, employment and wages for each of them for as long as they live. The deal was set in stone and the battle was fought. The dark won the battle and in a few months, won the war. The world was plunged into darkness, yet he and his mercenary's did not cease to exist. They made their livings as soldiers of the dark, yet still being less attached to them as the Chosen one when he lived. True, he had refused to serve when there was a choice not to, but now that it was the only chance for survival, he had asked his friends to join the ranks with him and serve the evil overlord and they did because they trusted that he knew what was best for them. And he would protect them because he didn't want to bring about their deaths.

Fin

So, what do you think? Please R&R.