Summary: An AU look at what could have happened if Voldemort had won the Second Blood War.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, i merely play in this lovely playground created by Ms. Rowling
A Dark Future
He felt the boat rocking to and fro aa it made its way to the small island out in the middle of nowhere. The silhouette of the building was illuminated across the sky as lightning streaked across it .
Through his red slitted eyes he could see the forms of the Lost Ones known as Dementors flitting across the background. His mind slips back to the history to the decaying fortress that was now the home to his enemies.
Azkaban.
Built in the Dark Ages it was once the fortress of a wizard baron whose name was lost in the channels of time. It had been said that a powerful spell had been cast that extracted its price by changing the barons family members into the creatures that now guard the prison fortress.
And now Azkaban housed those who had defied Lord Voldemort.
Looking over to the boatman's cowering form, Lord Voldemort sneers at the cowardice. The man was easy to control through the manipulation of his family's safety, and to spare his life whether that happened or not solely depended on him. But, o course that could change on a whim.
He smiled as he felt the slight jar as the boat touched the dock. Looking down at the boatman he sneered, and flicked his hand. Voldemort felt his magic react as it traveled up his arm and out his fingertips exploding into the light green force of the Cruciatus Curse. Watching as the man screamed in pain, he help it only for a few seconds before he released it.
As the man lay there gasping for breath, the wizard smiled darkly. "Let it not be said that Lord Voldemort is without generosity. For now you live, and your family spared." he said, "Until next time Ferryman." With that he turns and makes his way to the entrance of the prison.
Going through the hallways he hears the screams from the inmates as the Dementors travel through the cells one at a time leaving the occupants in a their own private little hell. Here within the walls are the last remaining bastions of light. It pains him as that some of them are purebloods, but they chose to oppose him in the final conflict.
He had almost lost the war when his horcruxes had been found and destroyed by Potter and his friends. If it had not been for the one he had made mere days before the final battle he would indeed be dead.
He had tasked Bellatrix and Pettigrew with securing him a new body in which to house his spirit. It had surprised him a bit when they had told him who they had chosen. Who would have thought that she would have chosen family to become the vessel for him.
He had to admit that this particular body suited him well. Young, strong, virile. While his magical core was something left to be desired it mattered not since his magical core over merged with making stronger than ever before. Yes, it suited him very well indeed.
As he continued to walk along the the main corridor he finally reached his destination. This cell held the most vocal thorn in his side. He gave the masses hope, and when when he destroyed his former body, he had grudgingly gave Potter a small bit of respect.
He often thought of what would have happened if Potter had accepted his offer of joining hin, but that could have never been, much to his chagrin. He felt he would have either had to kill him because he had gotten powerful enough to surpass him, or had to obliviate him into a mental mess.
But what he planned to do was so much more satisfying. Over the course of five years he had searched for the perfect solution to the person that was Harry Potter, and today he was going to take care of this particular distraction. With a wave of his hand he commanded the Dementors to move away from the cell before he opened it.
Voldemort looked in the dimly lit cell on the lowest level, there lying in his own filth with a body that was more emancipated than when he was with his muggle family. The robes he wore were all but hanging off his body in the visage of tattered rags lay the former Boy-Who-Lived.
His footfall echoed as he entered the cell causing the form to stir slightly. The gaunt face of Harry Potter looked up, and was surprised by what he saw.
"Malfoy? Come to gloat for your master?" " Harry coughed out in a raspy voice.
The years of watching his two best friends dying horrible deaths in the final battle had taken its toll on the young wizard. Ron had been beheaded by Snape's personalized curse of Sectumsempra, that had come from the former potions master himself. Hermione fared no better after being slowly tortured by being hit with multiple Diffindo spells before she was put out of her misery by the Avada Kedavra. Everyone else who had defied Voldemort was either killed without mercy or imprisoned here in Azkaban.
A bone chilling laugh was heard echoing through the halls as the form of Draco Malfoy spoke with an ominous sound.
"Oh no Harry Potter. You see poor Draco doesn't live here anymore." said Draco with a voice that Harry knew all too well. "Although his screams were beautiful, or so i am told."
"Voldemort." Harry spat out.
Making a grandiose mockery of a bow, Voldemort smiled. If Harry had to be honest it creeped the hell out of him seeing it on the face of his former nemesis.
"Very good, Harry." Voldemort said. "Now I am sure you are wondering why I am here after so many years."
Waving his hand he conjured two chairs across from each other. Before taking one himself he motioned to Harry to take the other. Rather shakily Harry stood without taking the offered seat. Voldemort said nothing as he looked at Harry.
"Most would have been happy just to let their enemy rot until death claimed them." He started. "But unlike most I like to a way to utilize them in interesting ways. Call it my way of making them productive."
Harry's legs started to give out. And just before he fell , voldemort waved his hand, lifting Harry up into the air.
"I have been trying to find a way to make use of you that would be a benefit for all involved." Voldemort hissed "And after all my searching i have finally found it. The perfect solution to my problem."
With a slight movement of Voldemort's fingers Harry now found himself up against the damp stone walls of his cell. The cold slowly creeping into his bones. Harry began to shiver as the most feared wizard started to chant in an ancient dialect.
Pain exploded from his body as it felt like his entire being was ripped asunder. Harry watched as his form started to slowly wither into a shriveled husk. Skin drawn taut over his bones. He felt as each part decayed until there was nothing left. He watched as a dark shroud started coalesce over his form as if pulled from the ether.
Voldemort looked up into the now dead and dull green eyes of what was once Harry Potter. Motioning him forward, he is taken to another cell. Harry screamed in silent horror as the door was opened, and he floated into the room.
"Ahhh, Neville Longbottom….."