A Slytherin Ending
Disclaimer:All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites.
Summary: How desperate can one man become when he is faced with a loosing battle and imminent death. In the end, maybe it is just best to plead insanity instead of being a Slytherin. Dark Crack!Fic. Lol
AN: Sometimes pleading insanity is the best thing I have ever done. This story was just one of the many weird and strange things my brain came up with and I'll apologize now for any nightmare's it might cause. I do hope some of my readers out there find it a touch humorous and hilarious though, for that is why I wrote it. Jenn =)
A Slytherin Ending
As the sun sank down over the charred and ruined grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, bright splashes of vibrant colors could be seen flashing across the blackened ground as two men, one young and the other old and deformed, battled. All around them lay the dead and dying bodies of the young man's friends and the older man's followers, the grotesque evidence of a ferocious war waged across the once pristine grounds of the famous magical school.
The young raven haired man with angry emerald eyes dodged and leaped about to avoid the curses being sent at him by the equally angry snake-faced man. Their mutual hate and rage feeding each other's emotions as each fought to kill the other. There appeared to be no end in sight to their personal battle, until an unlucky step found the younger man stumbling and tripping backwards over the dead body of a woman wearing black robes and a white mask, his wand flying free of his hand as he landed heavily on his back. Tears of despair and hopelessness leaked from his eyes as the now triumphant Dark Lord approached the fallen man with an evil smirk.
"And so Harry Potter, the Chosen Savior of the wizarding world, falls at last," Lord Voldemort practically purred as he grinned maliciously down at the younger man. "Any last requests before you join your delusional comrades in death?"
"Yes," Harry gasped out as he fought to control his breathing. "I'd like to have revenge."
"Revenge? You really are as addled as the fools at the ministry claimed you to be," Voldemort retorted in angry surprise as he scowled down at the fallen hero.
"Not… against... you…" Harry replied weakly, his breathing labored at the moment due to several fractured or broken ribs.
"If not against me and mine, than who? Who could the light side's chosen hero possible wish to have revenge against if not me?"
"My relatives, I wish for them to suffer for everything that they have done to me."
"I shall see to it that they scream in agony before they join you then," the Dark lord promised as he raised his wand and prepared to kill the crumpled form at his feet.
"No!" Harry barked sharply. "I want to do it! I want to be the one to give them what they deserve. I want them to know that I am the one who is responsible for their pain as they were responsible for my pain when I was younger."
"Indeed. This is a surprisingly dark request from a wizard thought to be the last hope of the magical world. I actually thought you'd beg for the lives of others to be spared, not encourage more lives to be taken."
"The magical world saw fit to throw me to the wolves, why would I wish them any fate other than the one that awaits me?" Harry ground out in return.
"Interesting," Voldemort drawled as he summoned the younger man's wand from where it had landed. "I will grant you this boon simply because your newfound attitude intrigues me."
Tucking both wands into one of the inner pockets of his robe, Voldemort reached down to grasp a handful of Harry's hair in his hand as he apparated the both of them away from the battle site. Harry screamed in pain as he was pulled ruthlessly through the void between points and landed roughly on the hard pavement at the edge of town in Little Whinging, Surrey. Voldemort laughed cruelly as he tightened his hold on the younger man and asked politely, "Where do they live?"
"Four, Privet Drive," Harry gasped out raggedly as his entire body throbbed and burned with the after effects of his injuries being forced through subspace so roughly.
Another harsh transfer and the pair stood just outside the wards at Number Four Privet Drive. With a firm grip on Harry's hair, Voldemort began dragging the Boy-Who-Lived across the grass and up to the porch. Harry gritted his teeth against the pain and swallowed the scream that was fighting its way out. Instead of knocking, Voldemort simply waved his wand at the door to unlock and open the flimsy piece of wood.
Dudley, who'd been walking out of the kitchen door, looked up as the Dark Lord stepped into the house pulling Harry behind. The minute Harry's fat cousin got a good look at both the wand in Voldemort's hand and the snakelike face of the man holding said wand, he squealed like a stuck pig and fainted.
Voldemort sneered in disgust as he let go of Harry for the first time since they had begun their journey so he could walk up and kick the unconscious lump of lard pooled on the floor. "Pathetic, not even man enough to face his punishment on his feet. How could this filthy beast have caused you harm, Potter?"
"He was always bigger and there were three of them and only one of me."
"Dudley? What's the matter snookums?" Petunia asked as she stepped out of the kitchen. Not expecting her son to be on the floor, Petunia tripped over one of his outstretched arms and ended up landing sprawled out on her stomach at the feet of the Dark Lord. Her eyes saw the robes of the person in front of her and she began screeching, "Get out of my house you Freak! You aren't…" Only to cut off once her eyes traveled up high enough to meet the hooded, red eyed gaze of the demon standing over her.
"See, Potter, that is how you show respect to your betters," Voldemort whispered evilly as he gazed frighteningly down at Petunia. "On your belly like the worm you are, groveling for mercy that doesn't exist."
Harry just let out a low humorless laugh as he struggled to his feet with his eyes watching Voldemort's every move. As Voldemort raised his wand so that it pointed directly between Petunia's eyes, Harry took a deep breath and rasped out; "You promised them to me. Please, I don't think I can hold on much longer. Let me finish them."
"Yes, your last request," Voldemort silkily stated as he pulled Harry's wand out from his robes. "But first, I'll need a magical oath from you swearing to not raise your wand against me while you take your revenge. After all, we both know you can't be trusted not to turn against me for allowing you the privilege of extracting your revenge. Can we?"
"I, Harry Potter, swear on my magic that I will not raise my wand against Lord Voldemort," Harry swore without hesitation. His aura flared a weak purple signifying his magic's acceptance of his oath.
Voldemort smugly patted the younger man on the cheek before handing over the wand. Harry took a minute to cast a couple of healing charms on his broken ribs before climbing to his feet and shuffling closer to where his aunt whimpered on the floor in front of Voldemort.
"I've waited for this day for close to sixteen years, Aunt Petunia," Harry stated without emotion. "I'd gladly spend my last breath cursing you, your husband, and your pathetic son for the hell you put me through since the day I was left on your doorstep. For all the hateful words, the lies, and unwarranted physical blows I will see that you and yours suffer for an eternity."
"Get on with it, Potter," Voldemort ordered as the snake-faced man grew impatient.
"Of course, pardon me for wasting your time," Harry dryly tossed over his shoulder while he used his wand to push Petunia up against the hallway wall. "Aunt Petunia, you'll have the pleasure of watching me curse your son first."
With a swish, a wave, and a snap of the wrist, Harry cast a silent shrinking spell at Dudley; causing the fatter boy to slowly shrink down to a height of about fifteen inches. Petunia screamed shrilly until Voldemort cast a silencing spell on the hysterical woman to prevent the neighbors from hearing her.
"Now, let's see, Dudley seems to be missing something, don't you think Aunt Petunia?"
Petunia shut her mouth and turned her fear filled eyes back towards Harry as he again waved his wand and cast three quick spells at Dudley. Her eyes bugged out comically as the first spell hit Dudley and he regrew the tail Hagrid had given him so many years earlier that the Dursleys had had to have surgically removed. The second spell caused Dudley's ears to migrate towards the top of his head and morph into over large, triangular, pig ears while the final one turned his nose into a pig snout.
"It seems that Dudley is still far too much of a pig for that spell to work properly. Shame, I think he would have looked cuter with cloven feet. I'm afraid his color is still all wrong though, his skin is too pale and pasty." The next spell turned Dudley's skin and clothes to a nice bright pink, though his hair remained blonde. Another spell vanished his cousin's shoes and turned the boy's hands and feet black. "Much better, now he truly looks like a pig in a wig – well more so than he did before anyway. Let's see, we'll add a compulsion to eat whatever is placed in front of his face, an anti-aggression ward to prevent him from becoming violent, and a neutering hex to prevent his hormones from interfering with his new life."
"And the last thing I'm going to do to your beloved son, Aunt Petunia, is give him the one thing you hate most. I'm going to give your son magic," Harry announced with false kindness as he shot one last spell at the still unconscious boy.
Petunia struggled against her invisible bonds holding her in place as Dudley's body glowed with a bright blue light for several seconds. When the light faded Dudley's entire body crackled with energy that caused his limp blond hair to stand out from his head while tiny visible sparks of electricity jumped and danced along his skin. Petunia watched her son with horror before it became too much for her to deal with as her mind completely shut down as she fainted.
"That is it? No hate filled Cruciatus? No flesh melting curses?" Voldemort hissed angrily.
"To them, this is a fate far worse than death. I've turned their son into something they hate and gave him the form of his inner soul," Harry countered as he walked over to his cousin and picked him up from the floor so he couldn't wander off and get lost when he woke up. Walking into the drawing room, he transfigured the top of the large coffee table into a miniature farm yard complete with a red barn, white picket fence, and pigsty where he promptly plopped piggy Dudley into the newly formed puddle of mud.
"Emotional torment?" Voldemort mused as he watched Harry levitate his unconscious aunt into the drawing room. "I suppose it has merit and the eunuch hex was a nice touch. Get on with your aunt's punishment, Potter; I have other things that need to be done."
"Uncle Vernon isn't home yet. He has to be here to witness Aunt Petunia's transformation because it is part of his punishment. I should have waited until he was here to change Dudley but that's of no consequence now. Would you like a glass of scotch while we wait? Maybe I could get something to eat? We can even watch a movie to make the time pass more quickly."
It took a few minutes to convince the Dark Lord to accept the muggle alcohol, but in the end Harry set him up in a transfigured throne and a large tumbler of the harsh scotch in front of the television. Harry was sitting on the floor beside Voldemort with a large tumbler of Cream Soda, which he called beer in order to convince the Dark Lord that he was drinking alcohol too. Voldemort had been reluctant to allow Harry to turn the television on at first, but Harry cajoled the Dark Lord into giving in after his third or forth glass of cheep scotch.
The movie he chose was Episode IV of the Star Wars series, the first movie to be released from the series. It was a movie Harry had wanted to watch growing up, but had been prevented from seeing it by his relatives. He realized the reason had to do with the power the Jedi Knights termed the Force, a power that they must have compared to magic in their minds. The Dursleys would not have wanted a young, impressionable Harry getting the idea that magic of any kind existed.
About the time they were watching Obi-Wan's murder at the hands of Darth Vader, the front door crashed open and a herd of elephants stomped into the entrance way as an obnoxious voice roared out; "Petunia, darling, we're home! Dudley, come and greet your Aunt Marge!"
"How wonderful!" Harry crowed sarcastically from the drawing room. "It's a Dursley family reunion. We're in here, Vernon, dear!"
As Vernon and the currently deflated human balloon entered the drawing room, Harry stood up and grinned manically as he leered at the brother and sister and simpered; "We've been waiting on you for ages!"
"What are you doing here?" Vernon demanded the moment he recognized his freakish nephew standing in his drawing room.
"I'm hurt, uncle dearest, aren't you happy to see me?" Harry mock pouted as he took several mincing steps closer to his fat uncle. "Haven't you missed me while I was gone?"
Vernon swelled with rage, his face turning a violent shade of violet as he glared wordlessly at his hated nephew. Behind him, Marge snorted indignantly with undisguised disgust and opened her mouth to make one disparaging comment or another, only to find she no longer had a voice.
"Sorry, my dear Aunt Marge," Harry apologized without a trace of any true regret. "I'm afraid that I don't have time to listen to your verbal diarrhea. You see, I'm on a tight schedule here and Vernon's long absence to collect you has me running behind. I wouldn't have minded, but my… uh… fellow acquaintance here is short on patience with your kind."
At this announcement both Vernon and Marge glanced beyond Harry to see the sinister looking man with snake-like features sneering distastefully at them from over the back of an elaborate golden, jewel encrusted throne. They blanched further when their eyes fell on the now piggish Dudley rooting around in the mud on the table and Petunia's unmoving form a short distance away.
"We haven't got all day, Potter, do with them what you will so I can send you to your well deserved death."
"Of course," Harry sighed as he bowed slightly to Voldemort, the Dark Lord too drunk to notice the mocking air Harry had affected the moment Vernon had announced his return. "Uncle Vernon, Aunt Marge, please have a seat while I attend to my loving Aunt."
Two waves of his wand had both brother and sister bound in thin ropes and a second pair of flicks levitated them onto the couch where they would have front row seats of Petunia's punishment. Marge's eyes bugged out at the display of magic and she glared at her brother for not telling her just how much of a freak Petunia's nephew really was. Vernon paid her no mind though; the fat man's eyes were focused solely on the unmoving form of his beloved wife.
"I'm sorry you were not here to watch Dudley's transformation, Uncle Vernon. But I purposely waited so you could see Petunia's punishment for all of the pain she inflicted upon me as I was growing up under the loving care of your family. First, let's shrink her down to match Dudley's new size."
Harry swished, waved, and snapped his wand at the unmoving figure of his aunt and watched as the shrinking spell reduced her to a size of about fourteen inches, a size just a tad bit shorter than that Dudley had been reduced to. Another jab and twirl of the wand transfigured Petunia's lovely dress into black witch robes, complete with a crooked pointed hat. "I must say, Aunt Petunia makes quite the fetching witch doesn't she Uncle Vernon? However, her complexion is a little too rosy."
Harry cast another coloring spell, turning Petunia's skin a rather sickly green color. He then transfigured her nose so that it was longer and crooked, while growing several extremely hairy moles and warts on various spots of her face, neck, arms, and legs. To complete the look, Harry transfigured one of his aunt's sewing needles into a tiny fake wand and attached it to his aunt's hand with a permanent sticking charm. He then summoned the broom, shrank it down to scale and charmed it to hover about five inches off the ground. A few waves of his wand had Petunia awake and seated on the floating broom where she flew in an endless circle all the while cackling like an old hag, due to a personality mimicking spell he'd found in the Black Library.
"Isn't magic wonderful, Uncle Vernon?" Harry inquired as he looked over at the horrified expression on his uncle's pasty face. "All we need now is the final spell, giving her what she both wanted and hated." A final flick of his wand, and Petunia's body glowed blue as Harry siphoned off a small fraction of his own magic and gave it to his aunt, just as he had given a similar small fraction to Dudley.
Aunt Petunia cackled with glee as her fake wand now shot out tiny blue and green sparks as she brandished the thin stick at anything and everything in her path. Harry carefully lifted Petunia up, broom and all, and set her down inside the confines of the transfigured farm yard and watched as she chased the now squealing Dudley-Pig all around the small puddle of mud. Whenever she cornered her son turned pig, Dudley would shoot a stream of blue sparks out of his tail to distract her before scrambling out of the trap with a loud grunt that would start the chase all over again.
"Change her back! Right this minute!" Vernon ordered when he finally found his voice.
"You aren't in a position to order me around any longer, Uncle Vernon," Harry countered as he cast the shrinking spell at Aunt Marge, causing Vernon to yelp in fear as his rotund sister quickly shrank down to Dudley and Petunia's height. "You know, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Marge made such a wonderful balloon in the summer before my third year. Do you think she remembers bouncing about the ceiling?"
A second spell inflated Marge with the magical equivalent of helium and saw her turn into miniature ball shaped form. In no time at all, she was once again rolling and bouncing against the ceiling. Another spell caused both arms and one leg shrink down into her body until they completely disappeared. Her remaining leg was used to secure a long strand of yarn, pulled from one of Petunia's prized afghan throws she kept on the back of the couch, which was then firmly tied to one of the perimeter fences of the doll sized farm. Another siphoning spell gave Marge enough magic to keep her form sustained indefinitely. About this time the old bulldog, Ripper, came tearing into room in full bark. Harry simply froze the dog in midstride and shrunk the offensive animal down to scale and fixed him to the top of the barn as a living weather vane.
Vernon's eyes were now practically popping out of his head as he stared at Harry with undisguised fear and loathing. Harry simply smirked in return and directed the next shrinking spell his uncle. Vernon attempted to run, but ended up tripping over the empty scotch bottles that littered the floor around Voldemort's throne before he even made it fully off the couch.
Harry picked him up by the back of the neck and grinned evilly at the tiny blustering man as he transfigured his uncle's new (and fairly expensive) suit into a pair of fire engine red trousers with bright yellow suspenders over a lurid pink and lime green polka dot shirt. His hair was then morphed into a rainbow wig full of tight curls, his nose into a giant red ball, and his stylish dress shoes into ridiculously large clown shoes that were nearly as long as he was tall.
"Oh, Uncle Vernon!" Harry exclaimed around a choked laugh. "This look suits your personality much better. Now no one will take you as seriously as you have always taken yourself over the years."
A final spell siphoned off enough magic from Harry to give Vernon the ability to honk his nose like an old fashioned bicycle horn and squirt water out of any flower he picked. Voldemort laughed manically as the three figures still able to move ran about the small farm chasing each other endlessly. Harry just watched silently, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched the tormented forms of his childhood tormentors bullying each other.
Before Harry could really begin to enjoy his revenge, Dudley's entire gang poured into the house from the backyard loudly demanding to know what was taking Dudley so long. The four boys, Dennis, Malcolm, Piers, and Gordon, barged into the drawing room laughing and shouting in their efforts to track down their wayward leader. The four bullies slowed to a stop when they caught sight of Harry standing next to the oddest doll farm any of the boys had ever seen.
"What are you doing here, Freak?" Piers demanded as he pushed his way between Malcolm and Dennis to confront Harry.
"We're having a Dursley family reunion," Harry stated with a strange half-grin on his face. "Would you like to join us?"
"How come Big D didn't say nothin' 'bout a party?" Gordon questioned as he cracked his knuckles in what he imagined was a threatening way.
"It was a spur of the moment party that I put together when I got here," Harry replied as he discreetly stuck the four boys' shoes to the floor where they stood. "So, how about it? Want to join Dudley?"
"Sure, why not," Dennis squeaked. "We can always pummel you later for old time's sake."
Harry smirked at the four boys as he hit them each with a silent Petrificus Totalus and shrank them before they knew what was happening. His smirk changed into a grin as he set about transfiguring each of them into a different barnyard animal that he then neutered and levitated into the doll farm. Piers became a somewhat large rat, Malcolm a mule, Dennis a common gray goose, and Gordon a rather ugly looking goat. The four new animals immediately panicked when Witch Petunia attacked them with blue sparks and Harry laughed gleefully as the chaos multiplied.
"Oh, this is too fun!" he burbled while clutching his stomach as he laughed hysterically. "I wish I had thought of doing this ages ago!"
"Are you quite finished with your revenge now, Potter?"
"Nearly," Harry admitted with a sobering sigh as he collapsed back onto the floor. "Can we please finish the movie first though?"
"Very well," Voldemort allowed, his common sense stilled quite dulled from the several glasses of scotch he'd drank while waiting for Vernon to arrive. "Bring me something to drink first though."
Harry complied, pouring Voldemort a healthy measure out of the new bottle of Bourbon that Vernon had brought home specifically for Aunt Marge's stay before returning to his subservient seat at the foot of Voldemort's throne as the movie played forward.
At the end of the movie, Voldemort was well on his way to being completely smashed (the Dark Lord's magic necessitating a larger than normal amount of muggle alcohol to impair him completely). This allowed Harry the chance to delay his scheduled demise at the hands of said Dark Lord by using the opportunity to further distract the evil wizard with the next movie in the series. Harry couldn't believe how well his desperate attempt to change the outcome of that final battle had turned out. He'd not really believed that Voldemort would fall for his ruse so easily, but then again, Harry had truly wished to get revenge on his relatives.
Towards the end of the movie, at the point where Darth Vader is setting up the trap to capture Luke, Voldemort commanded Harry to fetch him something to eat. Harry briefly contemplated ignoring the request, but in the hopes of keeping the Dark Lord distracted, he just shrugged and used the phone to order a couple of pizzas. By the time he returned to the movie, young Skywalker and Vader were battling fiercely in the bowels of Cloud City.
Voldemort, who greatly admired the evilness of Darth Vader, was even more shocked then Harry during the next scene where Vader confesses to being Luke's father. Voldemort did not want to believe that such darkness could sire a child that turned into such a goody-too-shoe. Harry was rather poignantly reminded of his deceased godfather who had thumbed his nose at his family's pureblood beliefs.
About the time the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the pizzas, the second movie had finished playing and the third had been inserted into the video player. Harry counted out the money for the food while Voldemort ranted in the background about Han Solo being rescued by a woman before cheering as said woman was promptly caught in the act. The delivery boy grinned and made some inane comment about the classic trilogy that Harry vaguely agreed with before closing the door.
He had barely placed one of the pizzas on Voldemort's lap, when the doorbell rang a second time. Thinking the delivery boy had forgotten something; Harry opened the door with a pleasant smile only to have the smile turn into a sneer as he found the ex-Minister Cornelius Fudge, former Undersecretary Delores Umbridge, and the unpleasant Auror John Dawlish standing on his porch.
"Harry Potter," Cornelius announced in a snobbish drawl, "you are under arrest for performing underage magic in the presence of muggles for the third time."
"I'm seventeen, Fudge, and you are no longer the Minister of Magic," Harry countered as he tried to close the door.
"You are still enrolled at Hogwarts, therefore you must obey the no magic outside of the school grounds rule, the same as any other student," Delores simpered girlishly with an evil sneer that twisted her face into an even uglier look.
"I don't have time for you right now, I'm entertaining an important entity and your pettiness won't get any of you your jobs back!" Harry growled out fiercely as he slammed the door in their faces and marched back into the drawing room to find that Voldemort had finished his pizza and started eating Harry's while he was gone. Harry nearly screamed in frustration as the Dark Lord refused to share the pizza only to be distracted from the burgeoning confrontation by the sound of the front door being blasted apart by the three stooges he'd just snubbed.
Voldemort was less than pleased at the interruption. Insanely drunk and eerily immersed in the final thirty minutes of the last movie of the Star Wars Trilogy, the Dark Lord's violent temper erupted in a ghastly display equivalent to that of Mount Vesuvius the moment his bloodshot eyes caught sight of the three idiots barging into the room with their wands drawn.
The sickly yellow light of three crucios leapt from Voldemort's wand and practically struck the three invaders simultaneously. The shrill screams of their torture lasted for nearly two full minutes before Voldemort lifted the curses, though their screams lasted another minute or two longer. Harry watched impassively from where he stood hovering near the last of the pizza torn between using the situation to his advantage and reveling in the fact that two of his most hated enemies (barring Voldemort, Snape, and his relatives) were getting their just desserts.
"Pathetic," Voldemort slurred as he flung a few bone breaking curses at the ex-minister. "Potter, I can't be bothered to torture them any further; do with them what you did to the filthy muggles you called family."
Harry choked on the slice of pizza he'd stolen from the box while Voldemort wasn't watching as he mentally processed the order. Robotically, he set his food down on the edge of the couch and used his wand to summon the wands of Fudge, Umbridge, and Dawlish before petrifying them and levitating them over to the couch while he considered how best to deal with the trio.
A quick glance at the irate Dark Lord showed him that the former Slytherin was once more engrossed in the movie, giving Harry the chance to finish his pizza before shrinking all three intruders until they were roughly the same height as his relatives, though Umbridge was a good four inches shorter than all of the others.
With a smirk, Harry settled on the perfect revenge for the three puffed up popinjays. Fudge (after having his broken bones healed rather roughly) was given tiny horns, a forked tail, and painted a deep red while his wand was transfigured into a pitchfork and his clothes into a red jumpsuit with a black and red cape that swirled around him. Umbridge was converted into a sickly looking half human half toad with greenish brown skin with the body and legs of a toad and the head of a person. She was also covered with hundreds of wart like pustules that secreted a sticky mucus like substance. Dawlish was left mostly human, his hands and feet being morphed into cloven hooves while his hair and clothes were turned into a woolen coat that left his arms and legs bare. The Auror was also given a sheep's tale to complete the picture.
The final insult to the three magicals though, came when Voldemort rose to his feet and turned his attention to them at the end of the movie. The Dark Lord, still upset about the earlier interruption, cast a dark spell on the three that locked their magic behind unbreakable wards – effectively turning the two wizards and the one witch into squibs.
"I grow weary of the delays, it is time to finish this," Voldemort declared with a distinctive slur as he swayed on his feet and glared at Harry. "You must join me; together we can rule the galaxy, for you are my son."
Harry just stared at the drunken Dark Lord with a gobsmacked expression on his face, his brain fizzing out completely while trying to process what Voldemort had just told him. "Uh, wha…?"
"You are my son," Voldemort repeated as he staggered closer. "Your mother tried to hide you from me, but now that you are here, together, we can rule the universe as one! The Emperor can not defeat our conjoined power."
"No, no, no…" Harry denied, his brain slowly switching gears as he furiously tried to think of something to distract the Dark Lord from his current train of thought. "You can't be my father!"
"But I am! Why do you think it's possible for you to speak parseltongue?"
"I'm sorry, but you have it backwards," Harry countered as he seized upon the first plan that popped into his head. "You speak parseltongue because I speak parseltongue."
"Impossible!"
"No, it's true. I'm your great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather! So, because I can speak to snakes, you can speak to snakes. It is a genetic trait after all."
"That's impossible! Utterly preposterous, as I am at least fifty years your senior! How could you possibly be my ancestor when you are far younger than I am?"
"It's because I will suffer an accident with a time turner in five years that will send me close to eleven hundred years into the past where I am forced to take up the name of Salazar Slytherin to protect myself from changing the timeline. I found out three years ago when my future self jumped forward from the past with the help of a time traveling phoenix, he'd missed the year he was aiming for and told me he remembered warning himself after he arrived and saw me trying to hex him."
"No! You are wrong! The great Salazar was not a halfblood! Never!"
"But it's true," Harry insisted, his fingers mentally crossed as he lied through his teeth. "I can prove it. You speak parseltongue because our entire family spoke parseltongue because I passed the magical trait on when I married Iridania Hobblesfoot. We had three children, two sons and one daughter."
"You lie! Slytherin never had a daughter!"
"Yes I did! She died of the fever when she was but three. Her name was forgotten because she was first born and my two sons weren't born until six years after her death. They never knew they had an older sister, it wounded my wife to speak of our darling daughter after her tragic death."
"This can't be," Voldemort proclaimed, his head still floundering back and forth with denial as a look of growing horror filled his red eyes.
"If that doesn't prove it, then this will," Harry declared as he leaned forward and whispered. "Knowing that our blood would become tainted with Dark and Evil Magics before my birth but after my marriage, I bound my sons with a blood oath that prevented my descendants from murdering a family member. The oath used ancient magic to bind it to my children's blood and magic so that none of my children or their children could use fatal magic against another who carried the sacred blood of Slytherin. That's why you couldn't kill me when I was a baby. The blood bound oath prevented your magic from murdering me and you were bound against killing me because you would have wiped out our entire line by killing your first ancestor, creating a paradox that would have wiped out the entire universe!"
"If this oath caused the curse to rebound upon me, why didn't it stop me from killing your parents?"
"Because my parents weren't my descendants, they are my ancestors and my blood is the beginning of the line, not theirs."
"I could kill you now."
"It wouldn't work," Harry bluffed with a confidence he didn't feel. "Why do you think I've worked so hard to not allow you to more than try killing me since I rediscovered our relationship? Why do you think I've always managed to escape at the last second? Why my luck never seems to run out? It's because my magic and your magic are working together to prevent you from breaking your oath a second time."
Voldemort sank back into his throne, a look of pure shock on his face as he thought though the ramifications of these startling revelations. The new facts illuminated the missing pieces he'd been searching for since the day his body had been destroyed when he attempted to murder Harry as a child.
"This is… unexpected…" Voldemort admitted after several minutes had passed.
"I realize how shocking it must seem," Harry honestly admitted, internally wondering how the hell he was getting away with his blatant fabrication. "You can't imagine how shocked I was when I first learned the truth."
"I was thinking more along the lines of… awkward," Voldemort confessed reluctantly as he turned away from Harry. "My goal since before you were born has been to kill you. And now you are telling me that if I kill you I will effectively kill myself and remove the Slytherin line from existence. It is a bitter potion to swallow."
"You think that's bad? Try learning that your own grandson has made it his life's goal to kill you before you even sire your first kid. Not to mention that you will lose your entire life in a few years because you have to go back to create a history that has already been lived. Maybe I should find a way to release you from your oath so you can kill me. Then I won't have to do all of this because you won't exist any longer and the world will be better off without the both of us."
"Let's not be too hasty," Voldemort entreated as his eyes grew wide at the thought of Harry allowing him to wipe out his existence in order to remove his own life from the world. "I'm sure we can work through our differences so that both of us can be happy and live long and fulfilling lives."
"How? You've murdered a good number of innocent people. You've allowed your mindless slaves to torture and kill thousands more. Not to mention how deeply you've delved into the Black Arts. You've corrupted your soul," Harry pointed out with feigned disappointment. "Even now, while we sit here talking, your followers are maiming and killing my friends and peers."
"If you give me the chance, I can punish my servants for their greed and corruption."
"And how will you punish them? Will you torture them with Dark and Painful curses? Because, that will only continue your current cycle of Evil that you began with the murder of your paternal grandparents and former classmate during your Hogwarts years."
"Well, that is how I usually punish them when they disappoint me or fail in their tasks. Maybe… maybe I could do what you did instead. Teach them a lesson by turning them into something they hate the most."
"Do you think you could handle the transformations without harming them?" Harry asked dubiously.
"It will be difficult, but I can try," Voldemort confessed as he blushed a sickly pink that clashed with his red eyes and pasty complexion.
"I suppose I can allow you the opportunity," Harry hedged as he wondered if this was still a good idea to continue to deceive the Dark Lord with the farfetched lie he'd spouted on a whim. "And… and we still have to discuss your punishment, because you've done far too many vile deeds in your life. However, if you can prove you've changed, I may be persuaded to be a little more… lenient… then normal."
Voldemort grinned like a four year old who'd just been present a huge bowl of his favorite ice cream – a decidedly unpleasant visage when one takes into the fact that Voldemort's face is rather severely deformed. With a flick of his yew wand, the Dark Lord levitated the miniaturized Dawlish the Sheep out of the farm and ordered the tiny man to bare his left arm. Harry flinched back when Voldemort touched the tip of his wand to the now minuscule Dark Mark while the mini-sheep-man bleated shrilly in pain.
Five minutes later, several pops and cracks could be heard as the entire army of Death Eaters (those still both alive and conscious anyway) apparated in and around Privet Drive in answer to their master's summons. Many of the dark servants leered menacingly at the younger wizard as they stepped into the drawing room and bowed low to their lord and master. Harry watched them all dispassionately, his face blank of all emotions as the dark minions formed a circle around Voldemort.
Another tap of Voldemort's wand against the minute Dark Mark on Dawlish's arm saw all of the Death Eaters frozen in place, the magic in the Mark allowing the Dark Lord to control their bodies completely. Voldemort flashed a fleeting look at Harry, almost as if he was seeking approval, before he systematically began shrinking his entire army down to the size of dolls. Once they were all down to scale, Voldemort levitated them up onto the couch so he could see all forty or so of them at the same time.
Before he could begin transfiguring them into new creatures, Harry summoned Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, and Bellatrix Lestrange and told the Dark Lord that these three were his to punish for their crimes against the family. Once he'd secured the three Death Eaters, Harry turned and watched Voldemort transfigure the rest of his servants into snakes, chickens, ducks, goats, sheep, cows, pigs, mules, and the family of Malfoys into blonde ferrets. The drunken Dark Lord then bound the Death Eater's magic, neutered and spayed the entire group, dumped them inside of the fences of the miniature farm, and watched them scatter every which way as Petunia the Witch chased them with a screech of pure fury, her natural personality finally breaking out of the magical compulsion that she'd been placed under. Harry took a few minutes to lock each of the former Death Eater's transformation, to prevent them from escaping, before shrinking his hidden trio of untransformed Death Eaters down to three inches and dropping them in one of the empty scotch bottles that he then sealed and tucked into one of the pockets on his robes.
Around this time, Minister Rufus Scrimgeour showed up on Privet Drive with a dozen Aurors, Mafalda Hopkirk (Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office), Percy Weasley, Rita Skeeter. Hopkirk, Skeeter, and Weasley were all sporting superior 'I told you so' smirks on their faces as they rushed in through the remains of the front door to find Lord Voldemort wearing a smug grin as he stood staring down at a disheveled and wounded Harry Potter.
Mafalda 'eeped' fearfully as she backpedaled into Rita who in turn trod over the edge of Percy's robes causing the younger wizard to flail backwards into the small squad of Aurors who promptly tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Scrimgeour growled as he brought his wand up, a curse on the tip of his tongue, as he prepared to attack the notorious Dark Lord. The spell never left his wand though, as the current Minister of Magic and his entourage were quickly petrified by a now frowning and irate Harry Potter.
"Great, yet another interfering group of inept ministry employees showing up uninvited where they aren't wanted," Harry petulantly hissed as he glowered at the frozen individuals. "They couldn't have bothered to show up during the battle at Hogwarts, oh no, heaven forbid they actually attempt to protect the wizarding masses instead trying to belittle and rob them blind."
Without waiting for the new arrivals to explain their presence (or their lack of attendance at the aforementioned battle), Harry began shrinking and transfiguring the Minister and his Aurors into ugly, disfigured looking vultures. Percy was then turned into an eyeless chicken while Skeeter soon found herself turned into a larger than normal dung beetle. After locking the entire groups' magic (a trick he learned from the Dark Lord), he deposited them on the farm and cast a ward on the table that would prevent any of the prisoners from escaping – especially those with the ability to fly or climb.
Harry then made a short trip to the kitchen to gather a tin of crackers, chunk of hard cheese, a package of sliced lunch meat, a bottle of mineral water, and a straw. When he returned to the Drawing Room, he cut the various foods down into smaller portions that he divided into four groups that were placed in each of the four corners of the farm with preservation charms to insure the food didn't go bad before it could be eaten. He then transfigured the water bottle into a miniature water tower that he placed it right next to the barn. Next he transfigured the straw into a faucet and garden hose and attached those to the new water tower to provide a source of water for all of his prisoners.
"Impressive," Voldemort grudgingly praised.
Harry gave Voldemort a slightly mocking bow before dropping onto the couch and picking up his unfinished slice of pizza. He nibbled on the cold slab of bread, sauce, cheese, and meat methodically as he watched the pandemonium taking place on artificial farm. The transfigured beasts and shrunken people were fighting over both the food and the water, even though Harry had made sure to provide more then enough of both for the entire group diminutive beings to survive at least two weeks.
"I grow weary of this charade; it is time to end our battle once and for all, Potter," the Dark Lord announced, surprisingly sober sounding, as he stepped into Harry's line of sight.
"You are willing to risk your own destruction by ignoring our intertwined destinies as I have revealed them to you? You dare brush aside the warnings I was tricked into revealing about the consequences should you raise your wand against me with the intent of murder once more?"
"Lies, you speak nothing but lies. There is no magic powerful enough to carry you that far into the past. The paradox of you existing in two consecutive time lines would tear the universe apart the moment you drew your first breath of ancient air."
"So, you'd rather believe Dumbledore's pathetic fabrication? The one about my mother's love and sacrifice protecting me as a child? How many other children were murdered on the heels of their mother or father's sacrifice during your first reign of terror? How many other frightened witches begged you or your minions for mercy before throwing themselves in the way of the curse meant for their sons or daughters? How many of those children still live? Did those mothers love their children any less than my mother loved me? I don't think they did. I think there was something more at work than the enduring love of a mother for her son. I know magical oaths have conditions, that magic can bind a family to an oath for generations. Can you refute that?" Harry logically argued, drawing on the hope that his words would give the Dark Lord pause.
His ruse appeared to be working, for Voldemort lowered his wand and frowned in thought as he stared at the younger wizard. Once again the evil wizard seemed to sink into drunkenness as he violently flinched and staggered back to his transfigured throne. Harry released the breath he'd held in relief as he gradually allowed himself to relax as the Dark Lord raised a fourth bottle of bourbon to his lips and drank deeply of the muggle alcohol.
Without being ordered, Harry silently headed into the family dining room where his uncle kept a bottle or two of expensive brandy. This was the premium XO Brandy that Vernon kept on hand to serve to any clients that dined at the house such as the Masons back in the summer before his second year. Uncle Vernon would have a heart attack if he knew Harry was going to offer even a single ounce of the fine liquor to a 'freak' like Voldemort, let alone the entire unopened bottle.
Upon returning to the drawing room with the expensive booze, Harry found the Dark lord brooding menacingly as he glared at the static flickering across the television screen. Knowing how abrupt Voldemort's mood could go from bad to worse, he quickly shuffled closer and poured a generous amount of the brandy into the mostly unused Dark Lord's glass and gently swapped the now full glass for the now empty bourbon bottle that the older wizard was holding.
Harry gave a mental sigh of relief as the inebriated evil overload automatically raised the glass to his mouth and drank deeply of the fine liquor. He watched Voldemort guzzle the alcohol down in a manner oddly similar to a dehydrated Quidditch player slurping down a glass of pumpkin juice after an exhausting game. The moment the glass was emptied, Harry skillfully refilled the cup without missing a beat or spilling a drop. That serving quickly went the way of the first, only seemingly faster as the older man swallowed the burning liquid, apparently without pausing once to take a breath.
As Harry filled the glass for the third time, Voldemort swayed in his transfigured throne and moaned wretchedly as the glass slipped from his fingers and shattered on the ground at his feet, splashing the expensive alcohol all over his robes, throne, and the floor. Tilting his head to the side, Harry observed the Dark Lord closely as the wizard began rocking slightly back and forth on his seat. Before his astonished eyes, Voldemort's skin began to smoke – the pale flesh radiating an odd heat as the man once known as Tom Riddle wrapped his arms around his stomach and screamed.
The tortured sound of Voldemort's voice sent Harry stumbling backwards as the bottle in his hands tumbled to the floor. He could see Riddle's cuts and scratches, from their earlier battle; begin seeping thick, black blood. The longer the blood flowed, the thinner the blood appeared until it ran like water down the man's face, arms, and clothing. It wasn't long until the man and the throne he sat one were both completely soaked in the foul blood. The stench of the rapidly decaying body fluids combined with the acidic tang of burning flesh forced Harry to gag reflexively as he tried to widen the distance between himself and Voldemort's collapsing body.
Harry was still trapped in the room, the poison of the Dark Lord's blood and body cutting him off from the only exit, when the wizard's scream cut off abruptly. The silence that followed was broken just a few seconds later by the sound of something hitting the floor with a soft plopping sound. Even though he couldn't see through the thick smoke that now filled the room, Harry had a good idea of what exactly it was that landed on the floor and that knowledge was enough to send him to his knees as he vomited up the soda and pizza he'd ingested not too long ago.
Once his stomach was empty, the young wizard climbed weakly back to his feet and staggered over to the window. After fumbling with the latch for nearly a full minute, he managed to unlock the window and open it enough to allow him to climb out of the house. Pressing his face against the cool grass of the Dursley's front lawn while the twinkling stars watched from overhead, Harry coughed and hacked until the last traces of the smoke and stench had been flushed from his lungs.
Nearly an hour later, Harry finally gathered what was left of his courage and reentered the house through the front door. Using his wand liberally, he cleared the house of the lingering acrid smoke and horrible smell as he gingerly made his way towards the now ruined drawing room.
His first look at the remains of his longtime nemesis sent him barreling backwards into the hallway as dry heaves racked his stomach for several minutes. The second look thirty minutes later was almost worse. Swallowing thickly, Harry forced himself to finish clearing the air so he could make certain that the most feared Dark Lord in recent history was really and truly dead once and for all.
The puddle of goo on the floor appeared to be lifeless, though knowing Voldemort's former capabilities, Harry wasn't going to just assume that the mess was harmless. Mad-Eye would be proud of my new found sense of paranoia, Harry thought to himself as he shot several stinging hexes, and other powerful curses, at the inert liquidy mess. After several powerful such hexes, including one vicious cutting hex, Harry was fairly certain that this particular incarnation of the Dark Lord was in fact dead. Only time would tell if the evil wizard's spirit still lived on in some sort of half life on this plane of existence though.
Summoning the now empty bottle of Brandy, Harry cast several cleaning charms, one massive space expansion charm, and an unbreakable charm on the glass bottle before using his wand to siphon the messy remains of the Dark Lord into the newly made magical container. Next he magically sealed the bottle and methodically vanished the old label on the bottle before conjuring a sheet of parchment that he stuck to the outside of the bottle.
The new label read:
Dark Lord Vintages
31-12-26 to 07-07-97
Tom Marvolo Riddle
~ The Dark Lord Voldemort ~
Full Bodied
Setting the bottle carefully down on the former Lord Voldemort's ornate (if temporary) throne, Harry skirted the ruined carpet and floor that appeared unstable due to the contamination of Voldemort's acid like blood, and made his way to the table top farm where dozens of transfigured men and women stood crowded along the fence line closest to the last known position of the most feared Dark Lord. When the former wizards, witches, and muggles noticed the young man approaching them, they screamed and fled fearfully into the darkness of the only building on the miniature farm.
Laughing hollowly, Harry transfigured one of the empty pizza boxes into a wooden sign that read:
Here stand the finest fools and idiots of the Wizarding world
who witnessed the destruction of the Dark Wizard Voldemort
on this seventh night of July in the year nineteen-ninety seven.
Instead of joining the battle, these pathetic men and women
sought to arrest the one wizard that stood and fought for all
of the innocents. They would have thrown our savior into the
depths of Azkaban and allowed the evil that was Voldemort to
rule our world.
Let their punishments stand as a lesson to all who see them.
After attaching the sign onto the fence with a permanent sticking charm, Harry called Kreacher, his house elf from Grimmauld Place, and ordered him to transfer the farm and the throne (complete with one bottled body of Dark Lord) in the middle of the Ministry of Magic's Atrium – in the place of the horrible fountain that had once graced the entrance hall of the ministry.
Feeling completely drained, Harry apparated out of Number Four Privet Drive with a soft crack – his laughter echoing through the eerily silent house. His last thought as he landed in the foyer of his London town house was; Who knew that alcohol poisoning was the power he knew not?
* * * THE END * * *