AN:/ I don't think this one is up to my usual standards but if any of you guys have comments to edit it I could definitely use them J. So the rating is T but I might up it to M if needed. Read ahead:)
A malicious grin spread across his scarred face as the stared at the pile of bodies beneath him. Oh he was insane, he knew it, and now so did everyone else. A hysterical giggle bubbled inside his chest and he glanced almost lovingly at the once silver blade now stained with the blood of his "family". he loved the blood, the metallic taste of it, the beautiful blood-red treasure that flowed down the pathetic bodies of his prey. But even more than that, he reveled in the screams, the shrill screams that pervaded through the air, the begs for mercy, the pleas as they knelt and whimpered for mercy at his feet. No, he gave no mercy. Especially not to those pathetic fools who had forsaken him; his mother who had never loved him, his father who had spat on his naïve trust and love and stabbed a knife deep into his heart. Yes, he had no words foul enough to describe the family that had taken his heart, smashed it into pieces that lay shattered on the floor, and then proceeded to spit on his cries for mercy.
The death eaters had broken him. They had shattered his sanity, but they taught him, they taught him so much and he got addicted. The dark magic was pulled to him, and he accepted it, letting it flow through him and letting himself sink into its depths. Now, the only one who knew more than him was The Dark Lord himself, and even then the only thing he had never delved into was making horcruxes. You see, when he had joined the death eaters it was for vengence, against his family, and to stop those filthy muggles before they destroyed the wizardkind. But as he was from a light family, and though he duel, he was not dark. He was more a shade of grey.
So he had to be punished for the sins of his family. First he protested, struggling and screaming himself hoarse with every crucio, but soon enough he realised that was their goal. They wanted him to suffer, the other death eaters taking pleasure in his pain. And he would never give them that satisfaction of pleasure from his pain. So he stopped screaming, and soon captured the attention of Voldemort himself, who came to torture him. And it was like a test he realised, to make him scream. But he was a pureblood, above all else, and his dignity remained. It was something he would not give up, so for the Dark Lord himself he endured. But as the pain grew and it increased, he finally understood. His pain became his pleasure, what once used to be punishment became presents. Stony silence became hysterical giggles, happy laughter bouncing around his cell, where he was kept.
And it was then when he was released, expected to grow, to kill, to BE a death eater. And become a deatheater he did. He rose amongst the ranks , to the inner circle where he stood at The Dark Lords side, surpassed only by Bellatrix Lestrange. He was a machine created for thee Dark, an unstoppable wall of pain and torture. He was soon known to everyone in the wizarding World, his name as feared as voldemorts. He killed for pleasure, tortured for fun, and now he finally had his family, the bane of his existence, destroyed, by his own hand.
He remembered walking out of the house the day they found out about his mark, the day they finally saw the insane glint in his eye, the looks of hatred that formed on his face when he looked at them and the longing, the ache in his chest that compelled him to do it, to stick a knife in them or to Advada Kedevra them. He hated how some of the other DEs shortened that beautiful phrase to something as muggle, as crude as AK. But he resisted, proving his will once again. The death of the Potters would be special, something that people would remember for ages. And it would be a spectacle, as everyone knew he loved his shows. This was shown with the deaths of the lovegoods, and a few weaseleys. The curse-breaker was special. He was smart and quick on his feet. Bu the chase was half the fun, now wasn't it. He cornered will (if that was his name), and tortured him. He was skinned, then burnt, with thousands of small cuts made on his flesh before having salt water rubbed in them.
But the potters were different. The death eaters simply twisted him, but the potters, oh they broke him. They shattered his heart, his love and curiosity. They made him a monster. They would pay, he vowed. It was time for them to pay . Lily, the one who had never cared for him got to watch as her husband killed her slowly, under the (unwilling) command of his elder son. And James, oh brilliant James was aware of what he was doing, he could feel the horror of killing his wife and every cut, every blow to his wife pained him inside. He would not be killed. No, James Potter sat and sobbed and felt himself shattering as he saw the body of his wife, snapped in half by his hands. Only after his guilt and pain turned to a boiling hot anger to his son was it his time to go.
But while Lily Potter had simply denied him affections, James Potter had not only rebuffed him, but spat on his face and locked him away. He had ignored him and favoured his brother, all the while encouraging his brother to hi=urt him, to scorn him. James Potter had a different type of torture. He was hit with a spell of his own creation, a nightmare spell that caused him to see and feel every single thing that he did to Lily. Soon enough, he was begging for his death, something that he was kind enough to grant, hitting him with a spell that copied the effects of the muggle electric chair.
Yes, Harry Potter, heir to the Dark, finally had his revenge.
AN:/ Yes I know awful wasn't it. oh well, review. flames appreciated and pls tell me how to edit it cuz I might l8r on :)