It was finally time
No- Or, The Shortest Alliance
Interlude: Offshoot of The Long Howl, a Harry Potter Okami crossover, a what-if two-shot suggested by a reviewer, to whom I owe the idea. Thus dedicated to Jombra. I hope you liked it. Orochi should be up next.
Disclaimer: I own, nothing, not even the idea. Characters belong to their creators.
Warnings: Character death- (only bad guys) a little disturbing imagery.
Rating: One day I will get this right…T?
Spoilers: Um, not that I can think of. Non-canon for the way V dies.
It was finally time.
Lord Voldemort took a moment to savor it, drinking in the night and closing his red eyes in pleasure.
Tonight, after nearly a year of research, he would summon the being who would give him ultimate power over his enemies…even death.
He ignored his death eaters as they cowered at the limits of his Circle, draw in salt and blood, (not his of course, what else were minions good for?) the earth within salted and barren.
He fingered his wand, eying the runes he had painstakingly drawn, before he gave a thin, satisfied smile.
It was time.
He took a breath, then lifted his wand.
It had taken months just to correctly translate the right ritual, and he concentrated carefully as he spoke. He wanted the Source of all evil, after all, nothing less.
Tonight he would finally be a God…
Ah, happy delusions…
The chant, almost like parsletongue in the way it twisted and hissed, seemed to burn the air, and crimson eyes flared with triumph as the air within the circle began to visibly darken, as if black smoke was billowing into it, a thick mist with the color of a moonless midnight.
It was Dark, it was Evil…it was perfect.
Voldemort sighed, lowering his wand, smiling almost parentally.
"Lord of darkness…aid me, serve me, let us bring chaos and destruction and death to even the stars…"
This was more of a formality, really, the runes he had drawn demanded absolute obedience to the summoner.
It was a good plan. No, a brilliant plan, perfectly planned and perfectly executed.
There was just one teeny, tiny problem.
Minuscule, almost.
See, Voldemort, arrogant as he was, assumed that his own will, powerful as it was, to bring the whole wizarding world to its knees…would be stronger than that which he summoned.
It never occurred to him that the Source of all that was evil would have a will of its own…
Lord Voldemort is already dead. The rest, as they say, is a formality…
But first…
Darkness swirled, then took shape, everyone leaning forward in fascinated horror to see what shape this monstrosity took…and collectively face vaulted.
It was…a gigantic ball.
Really.
Sure, there were nifty designs carved over it, and it was impressively massive…but it was still a gigantic ball.
Then, as everyone stared, a square panel popped open, and Something stared out at them.
All the torches had long since gone out.
Then the panel snapped shut with a contemptuous bang, and for a long moment nothing happened.
Voldemort opened his mouth to say something, but it was at that moment that Yami Spoke.
No.
It wasn't that simple, and then yet it was. It was an utter denial, a promise, a scornful whisper that ate into the fabric of reality, shifting everything subtly closer to darkness.
It was- neverlittlemortalsillyplaythingsofragileuselesslittleshadowsummonsmeusfoolishchildtothinktoowncontrolwhathasbeenwillbewhenthestarsburnout-
But all Voldemort, deaf to so many things, heard was that simple No.
Suddenly it struck him that he had overlooked something, something important…but by then it was too late.
Because suddenly the ball was shifting, reforming, a grasping hand reached out, grabbed the dark wizard and squeezed.
No dark magic can withstand that which birthed it.
Voldemort didn't even have time to scream, or wonder how the Thing had reached over the circle.
He just died in a shower of blood.
The death eaters had just enough time to panic in that unnatural darkness, but though they tried to flee the Darkness found them all and remorselessly crushed them, absorbing their pitiful darkness back into Itself.
Its form shifted again as it, er, rolled itself towards freedom, crushing the summoning circle without even noticing its existence.
Darkness had come to the world, and It was eager now to play…but as It Shifted, reaching out dark tendrils to corrupt…the dawn burst over the treetops and threw lances of light at It, and there was a terrible, silent thunder to the world that shook it, and Yami retreated in silent fury to the Circle and disappeared, bleeding back into black mist.
There was a flash, and for a moment there was a whisper of wolf-song on the wind as the sun rose, and then there was nothing but the splashes of blood that marked the shortest attempted alliance of the Second War.
Which had just, instantly, ended.
Miles away, Harry Potter awoke with a shout as his scar bled red…then faded into almost nothing.
The moral of this story? Um, don't mess with evil. There's always something worse out there…and it doesn't like you.
You know, I'm thinking of what would happen if Voldemort summoned Orochi…
A.N: Whoa, darker than I thought it would be. Damn muse. My original image was just Yami rolling over Voldemort and leaving a Voldemort pancake…