Disclaimer: I do not own nor make any claim to the Harry Potter universe. This fic was written for fun not profit.

Author's note: This is EVIL Harry. If you don't like, don't read. Other than the fact that this is my first fic and not beta'd, do continue.

words-spoken in the language of the snakes.

Lost in a Nightmare

Chapter One

I watch him walk about the chamber and I can't help the way my eyes travel down his uncovered torso, back muscles-which were never there before the war- bunching and rippling. Merlin, how I hate him.

I hate what has become of me, what I could have bee if it weren't for him. I was destined for great things, I once had everything at my fingertips but now all I have is this stupid collar around my ankle. This is what I've become, a slave to a dark wizard and no, I not referring to Voldemort. That pussy was taken care of two years ago. I'm taking about none other than Harry Fucking Potter.

To ever think that Harry Potter, the Chosen One, Savior of the Wizarding World, would turn out to be our new Dark Lord was almost blasphemy.

The irony kills me.

And to think no one saw it coming; no one, but me. I watched and I knew. It was as obvious to see as the Weasley's were poor, if you took the time to look closely at the once thought boy hero. No one cared what happened to him as long as he did what he was meant to do.

But now they care. Now we all care as we are forced to live as slaves to this powerful being; out of one Devils Snare and into another.

I often go back in my mind to that fateful day, the day that changed the desired outcome of the final battle to that of a nightmare, the day that everything went to hell…

The stench of sweat, blood and death coated the air making it almost unbearable to breath. The bodies of Death Eaters and the Order alike littered the grounds of the graveyard and as I looked on, I knew that at this point the fate of the word could go either way.

Holding my side where MacNair managed to crack a few ribs before I killed the bastered, I watched the scene before me. The Dark Lord and Potter were at a stand off and I don't know who I would rather see win at this stage in the war.

We all know the story of the boy who is destined to save the wizarding world from an evil madman, but what most didn't realize is that one day it would need protection from our so called "savior". But I knew, I watched as this once spirited boy lost everything: his innocence, his friends and pieces of his soul.

I watched as one by one Potter's comrades fell at the hands of the Dark Lord and his followers, some I myself am responsible: Dumbledore, Granger, Moody, that Tonks girl, the werewolf, Weasleys, Professor MacGonagall, classmates …

And with every life taken and every death caused by Potter's own hands, I saw the little traces of light disappear. Only one thing kept Potter going, one light that never fades out. One person in the world that could keep Potter on the side of light which he so closely borderlines darkness and that is-

//CRACK!//

What…?

"My Lord!"

Father!

Lucius Malfoy apparated into the graveyard and thrust what appeared to be a body to the Dark Lord. It was hardly recognizable, covered in dirt grim and blood but under all that I thought I saw…

No, it couldn't be.

"Ron!!"

Fuck!

It was the Weasel himself, or rather, what was left of him. He could barely be classified as alive. If it wasn't for the ragged coughs which spurted too much blood to be overlooked, I would have thought him dead.

"Well, well Harry it seems that we find ourselves in a little predicament once again," crooned the Dark Lord and I had to stifle the urge to throw up, though nothing was in my stomach.

"Let him go you sick fuck." Potter's voice was of barely leashed rage and I could feel his energy, SEE his magic as it crackled about us. Oh yes, this fight was over. I knew it, Father knew it, and even the Dark Lord knew it. That's why he had the Weasel. To bargain.

"Now Harry, one would think you would know exactly what is going to happen, but it seems even I give you too much credit." They circled each other, the Dark Lord dragging Weasley's broken body with him.

Remember what light I talked about, the one thing in the world holding Harry Potter anchored to the side of light? Well I'm looking at it. Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's right hand man and best friend, tortured and used as bait to give the Dark Lord the escape he desperately needs.

Even I know that cannot be let to happen. If he was not destroyed know, there will be no hope of doing so in the future. But one cannot tell the outcome any more, because if there ever was a person who could get Potter to give up this war it was the Weasley boy.

Potter's face contorted into an anguished expression as he finally caught on to what was happening; he had to choose between the lives of thousands of people (wizard and muggle alike), or the life of one boy. The life of one insignificant boy to you and me but everything in the world to Potter. Life can be a real bitch at times.

"No," I rasp, trying to say something over the burning agony in my side. What was I about to say I don't know and as I tried to shuffle forward strong arms wrap around me and held on.

"Watch Draco," my Father whispered into my ear. He startled me because I had forgotten he was there, a stupid mistake that had never happened before but there were bigger things happening now. "Watch how our Lord defeats this pest and put Potter in his rightful place. It's over now."

"What do you say Harry?" His voice floats into the silence. "Are you willing to sacrifice your friend for people who couldn't care whether you live or die? Will you kill your last surviving friend to get to me?" The voice hardens. "Drop your wand!"

I don't understand what was said but even a Hufflepuff could figure it out

It's over now.

"Don't…"

It takes me a while to realize that the ragged rasp came from the Weasel.

"Ron." It's almost a sob that burst forth from Potter's mouth.

"Don't…never forgive…never…kill…," his voice was cut off by a massive coughing fit that brought up more blood than I thought was possible. His head lolled to the side as Voldemort's wand dig into it but from my vantage I could see that his and Potter's eyes were locked.

And I understood. I knew what it was that Weasley was asking. I never thought that I could hate him any more than I already did, but in that instant I wanted to kill him myself for what he proposed.

If Potter cast the killing curse, there would be no way that Weasley could escape it. He was asking Potter to kill him.

Potter looked like he was fighting some invisible force the way he began to shake. "I-I can't Ron. Please just-"

"No!" The power behind that one word had surprised me; even the Dark Lord seemed a bit shocked. He looked between the two, puzzled.

"Never… forgive, never…"

And this is where it happened, where all that was good and pureness in Potter disappeared. His eyes closed for a fraction of a second then flew open, gaze harder than steel. His magical aura grew darker as he raised his arm, palm out, wand falling unnoticed to the blood soaked ground.

"Wise decision Harry," Voldemort said triumphantly. "I knew-"

//"AVADA KEDAVRA!!!"//

He didn't see it coming. Hell, I didn't see it coming.

The most powerful killing curse I ever saw burst from the palm of Potter's hand. The beam cut through Weasley's chest, through Voldemort's to at least five feet behind him. I watched in fascinated horror as the Weasel's body falls face forward to the ground but the Dark Lord's body stiffened.

The beam was pushing something out of him, something black and wiggling and screaming. Then there was to be a back lash of all that energy. The black essence surged forward toward Potter as Voldemort's body exploded. The surge of energy from the explosion threw us clear off our feet and we landed a few feet away, Father's head bouncing off a headstone and his body cushioning my fall.

Dazed but otherwise unhurt, I stand up, grimacing as thirty knives stab at my sides. As the black mist released from Voldemort cleared I could see a lone figure standing still as a statue among a sea of bodies. If it weren't for the massive injury to my ribs I would have laughed. It was almost poetic.

He did it.

Potter did it.

I stumbled over to him hardly daring to believe what I saw. It was over, the Dark Lord was dead.

Potter, a seventeen year old wizard just defeated the most powerful wizard of our time without a wand. I saw it with my own eyes but I sill can't believe it.

Potter won.

As I drew closer I realized that he was staring at the body of Weasley, not moving, not making a sound.

"Potter?"

Nothing.

I should just leave him. Who cares about him now? He did what we all wanted. The Dark Lord is no more and that's all that matters.

"Hey, Potter!

About 30 seconds passed before he looked up. When he did and those avada kedavra tinted eyes met and locked with my own, I wished they hadn't.

A chill ran down my spine.

"Harry…"

TBC???