Rise of Darkness
Prologue- Rebirth through Darkness
If one would've looked into the room with numerous locks broken in various places, they would shiver and become petrified of the boy who calmly bore his emerald orbs into their own, seeming to be searching into their own soul as if looking for some type of answer to why he had become what he had become. This boy wore a mask of the coldest indifference ever unleashed into the world. At first glance one might suspect him to be an antisocial 16-year old boy who rarely listened to anybody. Yet, when he was further examined, it seemed that this boy could be filled with only one, sinister entity: Darkness.
His appearance could first suggest to someone that this boy wasn't just a mere teenager. His deep black hair splayed out into every direction that physics who allow his ear-length hair to go. His ears had a jumble of piercings, the earrings black, silver, and a deep green. His skin seemed akin to porcelain, yet a fall could not make this boy shatter. His face lacked any signs of visible emotions; the only clue to what was happening behind the mask was an occasional arch of the already arched eyebrows and a churn of color in his eyes. Glasses tinted green and black were perched on the bridge of his nose. His skin and eye color contrasted sharply with his accoutrement. He wore baggy black jeans that covered his worn black and green Converse (A/N: I don't own Converse, so don't sue me. But those shoes are wickedly twisted ^_^) shoes. A black trench coat was worn over a silk blood-red shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his rigid chest revealing a black wife-beater with a worn red, white, and green skull in the middle. Today this enigmatic boy leaned up against house number 4 on Privet Drive. His tall, muscular, and lean form could be spied through the heavy rain and the dismal gray light. A relatively small stick was held in one hand as his pink lips chanted. For a second and a second literally, his sparkling, yet malevolent green eyes tinged with red. Then, rather slowly a small, sadistic grin grew onto his angelic-like, yet deadly face. Slowly a hand of long slender fingers crept up to the dark hair and pushed in off of his forehead, revealing a lightning-bolt-shaped scar. With a sudden yet graceful movement and a swish of the cloak-like trench-coat, the boy trudged back to the door of number 4 Privet Drive. He then retreated back into the confines of his room, leaving only waves of frigid air to signal his arrival. Every single soul in the Wizarding World knew who this boy was. But no one could ever possibly know what this boy had become. This boy was Harry Potter, reborn through the darkness of life.
To Be Continued…
Next Chapter: The Flame Ignites-Harry triumphs over 3; 3 who passed at Harry's own hands.