Injustice: The New Dark Lord: A Harry Potter Fanfiction
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own any crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.
Plot: You took everything from me; now, I will make you pay. If you try and stop me, if you stand in my way, if you choose to call yourself my enemy, I won't leave you in a hospital: if you get in my way, I will kill you. You get one warning: that was it!
Author's Note: Ever had one of those ideas that you think sounds crazy, but cool at the same time? Well, that's where this little nugget of darkness came from; admittedly, as the title suggests, it was inspired by something from another fandom, but, at the same time, the overall theme and idea sounded so cool, it was something I had to do.
So, let the fun begin.
And, as always, if you don't like it, don't read it.
Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to ACI100 for their friendship and support with my work: my recommended reads are Harry Potter and The Prince of Power Book 1 Birth of a Snake and A Dangerous Riddle by ACI100, Aspirations by megamatt09, Rise of the Wizards and Be Careful What You Wish For by Teufel1987, Do Not Meddle In The Affairs Of Wizards by Corwalch, Rise of the Dark Angel by mykkila09, Paid In Blood by zaterra02, The Dark Witch and the Necromancer ENGLISH by Heiko2003, Flames of Betrayal by marietsy2, Harry's Madness by SilverLocke980, The New Dark Lord by TheFlowerOfTheCourt and Harry Potter and the Power of Revenge by God of Death and Disease
Key Pairings: Dark/Evil Harry/Gabrielle; Dark/Evil Neville/Ginny;
Other Pairings: To be determined
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
/Parseltongue/
Chapter 1: The Point of No Return
'Where did it all go wrong?'
In years to come, and even sooner, people would ask themselves that question as they thought about the way the world had fallen into an age of darkness, death and damnation that made them beg for the likes of Salazar Slytherin and Gellert Grindelwald to rise up once more and help them.
Anything was better than the lives they lived, asking themselves the same question.
And every time they asked the question, so many answers would come out of it: some would say it started the day he was born; some would say it started the night he became something they thought they could call a hero; some would say it started the night he learned of his power and his legacy. Some would say it started the day he became a real wizard; some would say it started with the lie that was revealed to be a truth.
Some would say it started when he died and some, those who claimed to know the best and worst of times for what they were, would say it never actually started.
That it was, in the end, what everything else concerned with fate was.
In the end, it never started because it was always going to be one thing.
Inevitable…
Injustice
The green flash of the Killing Curse.
That was how it really started.
The curse that started Him down the path of a hero would be what started the world down the path that it had led to.
If only that curse hadn't been cast…if only events hadn't gone the way they had done…if only He had been vindicated much sooner.
For a lifetime, a world of if only would be the topic of conversation on everyone's lips, but every time they talked about it, every time they speculated and argued the point, they all said the same thing.
"It's too late…and it's all our fault."
Injustice
Rage!
That was the only thing Harry felt as he tore himself out of the arms of Remus Lupin, giving chase after Bellatrix Lestrange, her mad cackling and her mocking song, crowing about how she had done what she had done filling the Ministry's hallways as she ran towards her salvation. As Harry gave chase, the rage burned in him like Vesuvius about to erupt, accompanied by an all-consuming heat that felt like every pore on his skin was on fire, burning away everything he'd ever known, everything he'd ever believed in and everything he'd chosen to follow and support.
Now, there was only one thing left.
Harry James Potter.
And he was pissed!
Reaching the Atrium, there was a small part of Harry that marvelled at how Bellatrix had managed to get so far ahead, but he was more determined than she was at that moment.
Not to escape, but to hurt.
To wound.
To kill!
"I killed Sirius Black!" crowed Bellatrix, her song echoing through the long, dark corridor that made up the entrance to the Ministry of Magic, the many fireplaces and entrance points currently empty, which only fuelled Harry's fury as their echoing emptiness seemed to increase the volume of Bellatrix's mocking voice as she called back to him.
"Are you coming to get me? Come on, come and catch me, then: poor, wickle Potty out to avenge his dead dog…"
"CRUCIO!"
Even when he looked back on this moment later-on, Harry still wouldn't be able to quite grasp how it was that this was the first spell that came to mind when he thought on a way to stop Bellatrix escaping.
And yet, as soon as he cast the curse, what could only be described as a tidal wave of…of liberation just washed over Harry, coupled with a dark, but tingling sensation that felt really good. So much so that, even as he felt the curse's magic wash over him, Harry felt a mixture of arousal, pride and satisfaction accompanying the sensation, bringing with it a cold, sinister smile that only grew when a new sound filled the Atrium.
Bellatrix Lestrange screaming!
And not just weak, pathetic whimpers of a scream either; no, she was hollering the roof down with her terrifyingly-painful, tormenting screams, which seemed to be accompanied by loud thuds and cracking sounds that, when he managed to look and see what was going on, Harry saw to be the witch's bones bending every which way from Sunday.
'Merlin's beard,' he thought, his green eyes shining like the curse he'd just watched steal away his last true tie to all that was well and good inside of him as he wondered, 'Since when have I had…have I felt…so…much…power?'
"NO MORE!" Shrieked Bellatrix, her screams so high-pitched and fuelled by fear and terror that even her magic reacted to it, creating cracks in the floor and walls; behind Harry, the glass of the many windows and screens that looked down on the Atrium also cracked and splintered with the force of Bellatrix's terrified pleas. "PLEASE…STOP…NO MORE! I YIELD! I SURRENDER! PLEASE, GIVE…GIVE ME DEMENTORS! VERITASERUM! LEGILIMENCY RAPE! REAL RAPE! ANYTHING…ANYTHING BUT THIS! PLEASE…I BEG OF YOU!"
Maybe it was her last words or maybe he was just tired of hearing her voice, nobody would ever know, but as Harry released Bellatrix from his curse, his green eyes seemed to turn even darker as he looked down at her, seeing her cough up blood, vomit and saliva while she crawled away from him. However, with her bones broken and apparently-reshaped by Harry's curse, as well as the pain that hit the rest of her body, Bellatrix could barely make it a few steps before she fell down once more.
"You bitch," hissed Harry, his wand held almost like a sword in his hand as he gasped out, "He was your family…your kin! And you…you just…"
"He was a freak!" spat Bellatrix, coughing up more blood while she looked up at Harry with a deranged gleam in her eyes as she asked, "You…you actually think he…he meant anything to me, Potter? Why? Because he…he was like…like Mummy the Mudblood…and Daddy the dirty, stinking blood traitor was part of your family? Did you think he was family to you, Potter? Aw…so sweet…I want to throw up…and now look; just like them; he…he's dead! Because of you…feels good, doesn't it?"
"No," said Harry, though as he looked up, Bellatrix's eyes widened with horror when she saw his eyes.
Eyes that weren't emerald-green or even murky-swamp-green.
Instead, the eyes of the so-called Hero of the Magical World, Albus Dumbledore's little Chosen One and Champion weren't green at all.
They were black!
And, within the blackness, a ring of blood-red, pure malice-born magic seemed to outline the black iris, giving Harry a truly evil look that seemed to fuel the rest of him as he lifted his wand, his face expressionless while his voice was like the hiss of the Basilisk.
"But this will."
"You would never…"
"Avada Kedavra."
Unlike Bellatrix, who'd practically screamed it at her victims, as did Voldemort, the scariest part of it was that Harry didn't yell the curse.
He didn't even raise his voice.
In fact, as some would claim in the not-too-distant future, the first time Harry James Potter used the Killing Curse, he whispered it.
And yet, the curse lit up the Atrium like Rockefeller Centre at Christmas, the green flash reflected in the cracked glass of the many windows above, as well as the gold shapes of the Fountain of Magical Brethren. The flash was so bright that it painted a very large, very long and very thick black shadow around Harry, bathing him in darkness even as the light of the curse surrounded him.
In the same moment that the flash and the darkness enveloped Harry, Bellatrix's scream joined it, only now, it was the last time she would scream.
As the flash faded away, Harry stood there, looking down at Bellatrix's dead body with his newly-coloured eyes, his expression as blank and dead as the rest of him as he saw her glassy-eyed stare looking back up at him.
For a long moment, nothing happened and nothing or nobody seemed to move.
However, as Harry looked down at the remains of Bellatrix Lestrange, a cold, viciously-evil smile suddenly crossed the face of the Gryffindor youth as he whispered, "Well, what do you know? That does feel good."
Then, without another word, Harry walked off towards the nearest fireplace, grabbing a handful of soot before he tossed it into the hearth, never once looking back, never stopping, never moving anywhere but forwards with a cry of his destination;
"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."
Fire and darkness consumed him.
Then, Harry Potter was gone.
In more ways than one…
Injustice
Several Minutes Later
To say Albus Dumbledore was briefly-surprised, if not questionable when he emerged from the fireplace in the Ministry to find his archenemy, Tom Marvolo Riddle, standing over the dead body of Bellatrix Lestrange was an understatement. Everyone – meaning his spy – had always said how much Tom loved Bellatrix, perhaps even being the only thing he did love, and yet, there he was, standing over her, his face like stone while his red eyes were dull and almost-lifeless as he stared down at her.
As Dumbledore emerged from the flames, however, he also noticed the absence of a certain pawn in his ever-growing game with the Dark Lord who, one day, Albus knew would feel regret and remorse for his actions.
Once he was mortal.
Once Harry had played his role and the boy died, leaving Tom with no option but to return to his former master and allow Albus to let him help the old man make the world right, just as he had planned with Gellert all those decades ago.
But there was no sign of the little pawn.
And, even worse, no sign of any damage done with a possible duel between them – not that Harry had any power thanks to Albus' actions, all of which he'd said many-a-time were for the Greater Good because of how Harry had to die so the greatest power could help Dumbledore redeem Tom and bring about the New Age – and yet, the man known as Voldemort seemed curious.
Oh well, he might as well play along.
"It was foolish of you to come here tonight, Tom, the Aurors are on their way."
"Not like it matters," argued Voldemort, though, when he said it, Dumbledore was a little unnerved to notice an air of amusement, if not prideful humour in the Dark Lord's voice as he looked up at the old man.
"It's already too late, but I suppose we might as well do this, Albus…let's make it a good one, shall we?"
With the first spell, the duel began…
Injustice
Several Minutes Ago/While Dumbledore duelled Voldemort
'I knew it.'
Emerging from the fireplace of Number Twelve was surprisingly-easy, or so Harry had thought even as he called out the address in the Floo Gate.
However, the fact that he could step out of the fireplace and stand in the so-called protected Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix told him one of two things: either the wards had let him in because he was already keyed in with the Fidelius Charm.
Or, as he'd assumed, Sirius' death meant the wards had fallen and now anyone and everyone could come and go.
As Harry stood in the lounge of Grimmauld, he looked around, taking in the air of decay, darkness and definite un-homeliness that filled the house, as well as an air of magic he'd never really noticed before, which seemed to wrap itself around him much like his own Invisibility Cloak. With this magic holding onto him, Harry felt a powerful shiver pass through him, accompanied by a cold, dark sensation that started in his heart and wove its way throughout his body, filling his blood, his body and the core of his very being – call it his soul, his magical core or whatever – with new strength and power.
Power that, as he felt it bond with him, told Harry exactly what he had to do now.
Lifting his voice, Harry barked out the first word that came to mind.
"Kreacher!"
A loud crack answered him, though when it did so, Harry's already-black eyes darkened even further when Kreacher snapped, "Kreacher won't! Kreacher will not serve false master: filthy blood traitor and Mudblood lover former master had no…"
"I'm your master now, Kreacher!" snapped Harry, earning a squeak of horror from the elf as he added, "Why else would you obey my summons? It looks like Sirius did something; I don't know what, but I'm going to find out. For now, tell me: how did they know to use him? What happened?"
"Kreacher…Kreacher…Krea…"
"Tell me or I'll bind you and make you watch as I burn your precious Mistress to one of the world's ugliest pile of ashes!" snarled Harry, clenching his fists tightly, so much so that even his wand cracked under the strain, but Harry didn't care. "She might not be able to be removed from the wall, but let's see how she likes the taste of petrol and fire: see if she still sticks around then!"
"You will not…" Kreacher began, but the moment he went to make a move against Harry, aka his master, his elf's bond reminded him of the price that would be paid for insubordination.
Kreacher's eyes bulged out in their sockets before, to Harry's bemusement, the elf's whole body seemed to turn whiter than white as he fell back.
Seconds later, Kreacher's body was turned to ashes, though as Harry stared at the remains, he cocked his head to one side as he remarked, "Oh dear…he's dead…looks like I'll need a new elf."
To his amusement, though his cold, dark eyes and blank, deathly-cold expression didn't show it, the words were no sooner out of his mouth before another crack, though this one was more like a pop, filled the air, revealing a very familiar elf, who gasped in shock before he bowed low to Harry, his voice quivering much like it used to as he asked, "Master summons Dobby? Has Dobby displeased Master? Please sir, don't hurt Dobby!"
"Never, my dear little friend," said Harry, kneeling down so he could look Dobby in the eye as he asked, "Since when do you call me Master?"
"Master has always been Master," explained Dobby, earning a raised eyebrow from Harry before the elf added, "Dobby's magic made it so, sir."
"It did? When?"
"When Master gave Dobby an order to never try and save his life again," answered the elf, earning another raised eyebrow from Harry.
Trust Dobby's magic to be as literal as the elf's attitude towards protecting Harry in a bid to keep him away from Hogwarts.
"All right," said Harry, sighing softly as he told Dobby, "I guess that's good: but Dobby, if you're going to be my elf and I am your Master, I expect your complete, total and undying loyalty and, as much as you and other elves might think otherwise about me, you will call me Master and nothing else, but you need never fear me, so long as you are loyal to me and nothing and nobody else, understand?"
"Yes Master," replied Dobby.
"Then, for your first official task," explained Harry, lifting himself up as he told Dobby, "I want you to lock down this house: nobody except me gets in or out. Then, I want you to go to Hogwarts, tell Winky I want her…not offer, Dobby: I want her to be my elf. Do whatever you must to get her to say yes and then bring her back here; between you, I want this house cleaned…spotless, from top to bottom."
"Of course Master."
Smiling very thinly at the idea of his little friend proving to be so loyal, Harry looked down at Dobby as he added, "Once the house is clean, you're to go and find everything that is missing or has been stolen from here, because I know the Order of the Feather Fuckers has taken what is not theirs to take. Again, you have my full permission to do what is necessary to reclaim what is rightfully mine, Dobby, even if the guilty party is someone who claims to be a friend of mine, do you understand this order?"
"Dobby hears and obeys, Master," replied the elf, bowing low before he lifted his head as Harry cleared his throat, earning what could have been described as an ecstatic, if not hungry look from his faithful servant.
"More, sir?"
"Yes," said Harry, looking out to the hallway with a dark, bloodthirsty glare in his eyes as he gave Dobby his final order.
For now, anyway.
"I order you, Dobby, to destroy every portrait in this place, no matter what it shows or who the occupant may be, I want them all destroyed! And, again, do whatever you must to leave nothing behind, not even the frame if you have to…now go!"
Injustice
A loud, shrill scream.
That was the only sound that filled the Headmaster's office as the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black was suddenly consumed by magical fire, leaving nothing but a charred mark on the wall space where he'd been hanging.
While the other portraits and their occupants looked beyond terrified by such a movement, none of them noticed the Sorting Hat look somewhere between frightened and almost-pitying as he looked in the direction of the spot once occupied by Phineas Black.
"Albus…what have you done?"
Yikes, talk about a dark rebirth, but now Harry's passed the point of no return and, apparently, reaped the rewards of choosing to do the right thing for him for once, what does this mean for all that remains?
Is Harry really going to leave Voldemort alive and Dumbledore thinking he can make the boy die?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: Certain members of Harry's friends and allies find nasty surprises waiting for them as the will of the new Master of the House is done: however, it would seem there are those willing to do right by Harry, even if it means making the ultimate sign of loyalty;
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