Triple Lord

Reason for Story : Harry Potter the way that J.K. Rowling wrote him is kind of like unsatisfying sex…it's enjoyable while it lasts, but since there's not a good climax at the end your left feeling a little unfulfilled. Harry is unique in my experience as a reader, because no other protagonist I can think of triumphed without any kind of growth, power, skill, or realization on their part. Over the course of seven novels he went from a quiet, shy boy to a quiet, shy, angst ridden teen. He was an emotional doormat that maintained the same two friendships for seven years…never growing, changing, or branching out into allowing others into his life. He allowed Ron to dictate his social attitudes and interactions, and Hermione to dictate his study time, school work, and morality. The only exceptions to this pattern were Ron's siblings, and Neville and Luna in 5th year, though even then he didn't maintain any kind of relationship w/either of the latter outside of school. He made no attempt to learn anything about his family, merely waiting on others to volunteer what they wanted to about his parents, but never seeking others out or researching the Potter family history, despite them being a wealthy old pureblood house. I mean he didn't even bother to enquire where all the gold in his vault came from for cryin out loud! What irritates me is that Harry literally stumbles his way into winning every time. The kid bought into the whole daring gryffy stereotype and did his best to emulate it without ever once showing he could be subtle or think ahead. Although that isn't really surprising since he had Granger to do his thinking for him. Harry Potter had so much potential…it's just too bad that he never got to use any of it. Instead we have a British Uchiha Sasuke w/out the drive OR skill, an emo-boy whose most desperate wish isn't even a fully justified revenge for the craptastic life he's lived but rather he wants to be mediocre and invisible….So this is my take on a Harry Potter that's actually capable of being the hero I wanted him to be.

Disclaimer : I neither own nor make a profit from anything

Rating : T for now; may be M later

Pairing : Harry/not sure yet…won't be Ginny or Hermione though. Ginny is a one dimensional character that, other than Quidditch and Hogwarts house, has nothing in common with Harry. Besides, if Harry wasn't the B-W-L could you see her giving him the time of day? Hermione on the other hand has too many personal habits that I find abhorrent when it comes to Harry. He's spent entirely too much of his life being ordered around, told what to do and what to think, having that in a girlfriend would be a valid reason for murder. I don't see him living happily ever after with either one.

Chapter 1 : Goblet of Fire – 'Priori Incantatem'

'Avada Kedavra!'

'Expelliarmus!'

A jet of sickly green light emanated from the resurrected Dark Lord's wand just as a vibrant red spell left Harry's. The two spells collided in midair and suddenly Harry's holly wand was vibrating as though an electric charge was running through it. A narrow beam of golden light connected the two brother wands and Harry's gaze followed it up to meet the astonished gaze of his mortal enemy. Suddenly, the golden thread connecting the wands of the two diametrically opposed wizards splintered, though the wands remained connected, and a thousand more beams arched overhead crisscrossing and interconnecting into a golden, dome shaped web of light. Voldemort's followers circled around the barrier, crying out for instructions in strangely muted voices. As an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air, emanating from the light web, Harry felt immense pressure bearing down upon him as a bead of light slid down the string of energy that connected his wand from the one that had killed his parents. The two were now locked into a mental war that would see only one winner.

The battle of wills was steeply one sided at the start. And as the nexus of spell energy moved closer to the tip of Harry's wand, the sensation of pain emanating from the lightning bolt shaped curse scar on his forehead, which had been constant since Voldemort's rebirth, grew and grew. Suddenly the mysterious ball of energy connected with Harry's wand. The pain that had been building in intensity as the nexus neared spiked, and then the teen's scar burst open.

Harry could feel the blood gushing forth and as it neared his eyes, the teen knew that he was going to die. He was lost in a world of pain, experiencing an agony beyond description, worse even than Voldemort's Cruciatus curse. Nothing existed except a creature with red eyes, golden light, and pain. 'It will be over soon, than I can be with mum and dad.' At that thought and the longing that swelled in his heart because of it, Harry noticed a slacking in the inexorable pressure being exerted on him by the evil wizard as the bead of energy moved a few precious millimeters away from his holly wand.

Reinvigorated at the momentary respite, Harry concentrated on the feelings of reassurance that the music emanating from the golden light evoked in him. At the longing for his friends and the love for the family that Voldemort had denied him. And then, concentrating on those feelings, he pushed.

Under other circumstances, the contest would never have been doubt, despite Harry's new found determination, but several outside factors were having an effect on both combatants. On Voldemort's side, it was the fact that he'd never heard of the effect they were experiencing before. He was incredibly confused, not only about what was happening…but how this untrained boy was capable of surviving where everyone else he'd ever targeted had died. Voldemort's mind was reeling, trying to understand what was going on and this distracted him from the battle of wills he suddenly found himself in. But on Harry's side it was the fact that he was completely unsuited to mental combat. Growing up in an abusive household wasn't exactly conducive to building up a strong sense of self. This meant that Harry's mind had to learn to defend itself against an unrelenting enemy that was by far the more knowledgeable and experienced at mental combat, even if it was slightly distracted. And Harry's mind was not exactly well-outfitted to do so to begin with. The music emanating from the golden strands radiated security and greatly aided Harry whilst causing immense pain to the Dark Lord, which did a lot in compensating for Harry's mental weakness. Those tools, inadequate though they were, were all he had to do battle with in the surprising conflict of wills that had sprung up between Harry and his mortal enemy.

As the ball of energy that had formed where Voldemort's spell had connected with Harry's moved closer and closer to the wand that had killed his parents, the resistance Voldemort put up became more powerful.

And so Harry concentrated every particle of his being on one thought. 'Push.' The teen's incredible determination combined with the effects of a mental war that for the combatants had taken an eternity, but in actuality had occurred at the speed of thought, Harry began to win. The boy had also done a substantial amount of growing up, mentally speaking, as part of their conflict. Underdeveloped places in Harry's mind had been a favored target of the dark lord, as weaker than all others. The only effective counter for those attacks had been to develop those weak points until they were as strong as the others, even if he'd had no other option but to copy the pattern for those developments out of Voldemort's own mind.

Just like an ordinary war takes immature boys and turns them rapidly into men, the intense nature of the mental conflict had caused Harry to develop at an incredibly rapid pace. His survival had mandated such development. It had not been optional; there had been no room for weakness, and no mercy from his enemy in the fight. There was nothing too dirty for Voldemort to do, no tactic too dishonorable if it gave him the slightest advantage. So Harry's mind had been forced to fortify itself in every particular. Harry had always been powerful, but now he had the skill to use that power.

Voldemort was in something of a quandary at this point. He'd entered into a duel with the boy so that he could demonstrate to his followers that his defeat was a fluke. To kill the Potter boy and remove any doubt that Voldemort wasn't the most powerful wizard in the world. He'd been supremely confident in his victory when he cast the killing curse at his young nemesis. The light show that resulted from their spells connecting hadn't fazed him much. Even the damnable phoenix song emanating from the gold strands of spell energy, while painful, weren't enough to make him doubt his victory. But it was confusing, how this untrained and mediocre boy kept surviving where everyone else he'd ever targeted had died. Voldemort's mind kept cycling, trying to understand what was going on and this distracted him from the battle of wills he was currently winning. And then the boy had stuck back.

Voldemort was in agony. All he could feel was pain and surprise. 'How is the boy doing this?' Distracted by his shock, the pain of the phoenix song, the stabbing thrust of the boy's mental attack and a wholly unaccustomed sensation of fear, the dark wizard's resistance was being steadily overcome. Which made the Dark Lord more desperate, and his desperation in turn made his resistance less effective. It was a cycle that could only result in defeat. The ball of energy that had formed where their spells had connected moved closer and closer to the wand that had killed so many, as Voldemort's resistance crumpled.

Harry's world had narrowed down to one desire…one need. And it wasn't for air, or food, water, or even respite…instead it was the need to push. With a suddenness that would have left Harry breathless, had he been capable of rational thought, the resistance he was battering against crumpled and his pain stopped. Too caught up in the struggle, Harry barely noticed as he continued to push. He took every feeling and every thought he had and he pushed as hard as could. He felt himself leaving his body…he was light and energy…and then he entered someplace else. Somewhere new. In the background he could hear an unearthly, blood curdling scream as crashed through a barrier.

At first, Harry had no idea what had happened. He heard a scream of someone in agony and then he found himself in what appeared to be a giant cloud. It was completely black with flashes of energy, like bolts of lightning in reds and blues and all the colors of the rainbow. The whole thing reeked of darkness and power. And it was mesmerizing. Calling to Harry like nothing else ever had. The emerald eyed teen had been pushing for so long and so hard that even if he'd wanted too, he wouldn't have been able to stop in time to prevent himself from getting lost in that cloud of power. Suddenly Harry was overwhelmed with sights, and sounds, and tastes that he'd never experienced before. A rush of memories came with them, becoming implanted in his mind.

A young Tom Riddle watched his possessions burn as Dumbledore demonstrated magic. Putting on the Sorting Hat, and taking his place in Slytherin. Going to the Ministry and discovering his heritage as a halfblooded descendant of the great Salazar himself. Spending all of his time in the library, questing for knowledge and power to protect himself from the bullies both in and outside of his house, since none of the faculty could be bothered. Dreading being sent back to the orphanage and the longing to be back in his true home…Hogwarts. Discovering the Chamber of Secrets and the accidental killing of Myrtle before he'd gained control of the basilisk. The terror of what he'd done, even if by accident, and the thought to create a horcrux since the opportunity was already there. Graduation, and being turned away from job after job, despite being Head Boy with the highest grades in decades and finding out that he'd been black balled by Dumbledore for his 'Dark' tendencies. The realization that the most powerful 'Light' wizard in the country had a vendetta against him for some reason. The fear and the driving need to defend himself, which led to drowning himself in the Dark Arts as a counter, killing his Muggle father, and framing his maternal relatives. The memories kept coming. Harry experienced everything from Riddle's life, including the Voldemort persona's creation. Knowledge came too. More information than Harry could possibly imagine. He could feel it being drilled into him, combining with his magical core. The basics came first. Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Defense, History of Magic and Astronomy; the core curriculum of Hogwarts. All the lessons from the first year to the O.W.L. exams, from the perspective of a boy who set a record for the highest grades in decades. Then harder things came. Human Transfiguration, Advanced Charms, and Magical Creatures. The Polyjuice Potion, the Draught of the Living Dead, and Veritaserum. Arithmancy and ancient runes, subjects he had never studied before. The knowledge kept coming. Spells, potions, and ritual instructions that would never be found in the Hogwarts Library. Harry learned the unforgivables in an instant. He learned hundreds of charms, curses, hexes, and jinxes. All in the blink of an eye. He learned the Dark Arts, warding, occlumency, and legilemency. He learned Parsel Magic and ancient spells long forgotten. Things only Voldemort knew. And still the lessons continued. He learned how to make portkeys, how to apparate, and how to duel. Harry learned the customs, etiquette, and traditions of the pureblood houses and the laws under which the Ministry operated. He learned Alchemy, sympathetic magic, malfeasance, poisons, and antidotes. Languages he had never heard of, much less spoken. He knew all that Voldemort had learned throughout his life. And then, the flood of information suddenly stopped. The rush faded away until he could hear Voldemort's screams once again. Those too faded as he felt himself being pushed out painfully. He felt himself leaving Voldemort's body, and he shortly returned to his own.

The golden dome was collapsing and the Death Eaters were panicking. Harry was exhausted, both mentally and physically. His body was still shaking as a result of being placed under the torture curse and he could barely stand. Dazed and confused, it took Harry a moment to figure out what was going on…luckily the Voldemort's followers couldn't get at them yet. Realizing that if the D.E.'s managed to capture him he was dead, Harry lunged towards Cedric's body, where the older boy's corpse lay forgotten on the ground.

Harry could hear the voices of Tom's allies shouting, but couldn't be bothered to decipher their words. The teen ran as he'd never run before, feeling curses as they flew past. Harry knocked over two Death Eaters in his mad scramble to get to his friend's body. Zigzagging behind headstones, feeling their malevolent spells following him, hearing the shattering of rock as the grave markers all around him broke under the impact. Ducking and dodging the spellfire aimed at him the teen ran as he'd never run before in a desperate bid for escape. He pelted toward Cedric's body, no longer aware of the pain his body was experiencing from his various injuries, his whole being concentrated on what he had to –

"Stun him!" He heard Voldemort scream.

Desperately reaching out for Cedric's limp arm, "Accio Cup!" Harry cried out whilst pointing his wand towards the Triwizard Cup. Harry caught it by the handle and felt an instant jerk behind his navel just as a whirlwind of multi-colored spells closed in on his position. He heard Voldemort scream in rage as he, Cedric, and the cup vanished.