The boy, no, man scanned the titles for something that would pique his interest. The library was dark and dusty, with the unmistakable stench of death and decay. Many of the books were old. Unimaginably old; ancient. And they still held their power. The written word is sometimes called man's greatest achievement. Greater than the atomic bomb, greater than the automobile, greater than creating life – the written is the apex of man's greatness. If the written word is great then these books were great and terrible. For they were not just books. These were magic books. They were books on potions, on history, the occult, the arcane, and the wicked. These books were witness to feats of great bravery and heroics; they were also witness to the worst horrors that the human mind could conceive. Some of these tomes gave off light when touched; others sent whispers of carnal pleasure alone the spine, begging to be opened. Still others seemed to be shrouded in darkness and felt sickly and oily to the senses. But it was not these books that called out to the dark haired man; no it was a simple tome, with a soft leathery binding, the color of human flesh, and bright, blood red lettering that screamed out to him "Al Azif".
The man opened up the tome and a manic grin began to stretch across his handsome features as emerald eyes devoured the pages.
That is not dead which can
eternal lie.
And with strange aeons even death may die.
"Necronomicon."
He stuffed the book under his robes and spun on his heel, quickly leaving the old Black Family Library behind him. He disappeared in a veil of black mist before he even reached the door.
Diagon Alley was in flames. Screams filled the air. Bodies littered the ground. Children were crying for their mothers' warmth; warmth they would be forever denied as they clung to the corpse of their parents. It was moments like this that Lord Voldemort loved best. You could just taste the pain and anguish in the atmosphere. It was the most potent aphrodisiac available. He just loved to stroll through a battlefield listening to the screams of the dying and smell the beginnings of decay.
He stopped in front of Ollivander's Wands, which he had visited for the first time all those years ago. A lifetime ago. He was broken from his reverie as the mist rolled in. It came in billowing, blown by some unseen wind, clinging low to the ground. Eating up the bodies and carnage around him. Most disturbing of all was that this mist was black. Completely black. It was not right; it did not belong. This mist was evil, it was wrong; it was even more twisted than the deepest corners of his mind. Moreover it offended him on some instinctual level that this obscenity be allowed to exist in the world that he would soon have complete control over. This was his world, and no one could take that from him. He was LORD VOLDEMORT! Even the forces of nature would submit to him. With a flick of his wrist, his faithful wand appeared in his skeletal hand. A second flick summoned hurricane force winds, driving the mist from the main alley. What he saw shocked him, or rather, what he didn't see. All of the bodies, all of the death, and his army of Death Eaters – gone. All of it; gone. But the stench of death still remained. If anything it was stronger than ever, you could still hear the faint screams of the dying and that damnable fog was still there. It was growing, blackening the sun but still allowing light. This was the work of a magician. A powerful one.
"Come out! Lord Voldemort commands you!" A faint sound, almost like a hollow bark followed. Growling, "I can see that you are powerful; with your help, I- no, WE could rule the world!"
Voldemort smirked, who would refuse such a lucrative offer? Sure he would kill them. But only after they stopped being useful. He looked up with a start; the mist had begun moving in again. But this time more malevolently, like it was stalking him. It seemed thicker, almost impermeable. It was disquieting. And he knew why, the noise, it was all gone. There was only the sound of his robes brushing the ground and his own labored breathing.
Silence. The screams had stilled.
The wind picked up. And with it, the whispers came.
Liar
Liar
Murrderrerr
Killer
Mudblood
Worthlessssss
Trash
I hate you
AVADA KEDAVRA
Riddle
Riddle
Mudblood
Worthless
Die
Time to play Tommy boy
Time to play
Who you gonna tell, huh? You're just an orphan that nobody wants, 'cept me
I'll kill you
Weirdo
Freak
Freak
FREAK
Necro
Death
Die
Riddle
Thomas Riddle
Thomas
Tom
Tom
Tom
Tom
Hello Tom
Hello Tom
Hi Tom
Good day Tom
Hello Tom
Hello
How ya doin'?
Ready to play Tom?
Hello Tom
Hello Tom
"Hello Tom"
Voldemort spun to meet the voice, firing off a barrage of multi colored lights. Some bright oranges, others spinning purples and the final a sickly yellow hue. The bright orange vaporized the chains hold up the "Leaky Caldron" sign, the spinning purple blew part the sign and the yellow spell blew apart the inn itself.
"Now Tom, tsk tsk, is that how we greet old friends?" Came the mocking voice from the mist, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"I have no friends, now come out before I kill you!"
"Oh but Tommy boy, you and I used to have such fun. You make me sad."
Red eyes flashed with barely contained rage, "Don't call me by that muggle name, I am Lord Voldemort" he ground out.
"No its not, your name is Tom"
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
"Now really, did that poor chair deserve death? Come on Tom, show some compassion."
The tip of the skeletal figure's wand began to glow with an unnatural redness.
"The only compassion Lord Voldemort shows is, a QUICK DEATH!" He slammed the tip of his wand into the very cobblestone streets, firing his spell upon impact. The explosion was enough to level several storefronts and half of the Alley's cobblestone street. Voldemort's chest was heaving, that last spell had taken it out of him; it takes a lot to level an entire street and finally drive some of that mist back.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you must have hit a Leyline with that one. Good job!"
"Who… are…. You!??!" His voice shook with fury.
More black mist began to appear in a vortex before the Dark Lord, gradually coalescing into a human shape. When the last vestiges of the mist vanished into the surrounding fog, there was a man of about 19 years with raven black hair, emerald eyes and a lightning shaped scar on his brow. He gave a cheeky grin.
"Me? I'm Harry Potter and I'm here to kill you and your dream, Tom Riddle."
Shaking with rage, the Dark Lord raised summoned all his remaining magic, forcing it into one last spell.
"AVADA-"
"EXPELLIARMUS!" The instrument of death sailed out of the wizards grasp and into the hands of his equal.
"Ah ha, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, we can't be having that. That's just not playing fair. And neither is this" The Boy Who Lived, pulled out a 9 mm Beretta and fired two rounds into his knees and one into his shoulder.
"That should keep you from Apparating out of here." With a flick of his wand, Harry conjured up a chair for him to sit in.
"Now I just want you to know that I never did figure out what the 'Power he knows not' is. But I did find a suitable replacement for whatever it was." A dark grin broke out on Harry's face, something, the Dark Lord mused, that did not look totally out of place. "It seems especially poignant after you killed my friends and family; you took my hope for a happier life, my dream" his voice was choked with emotion. "But, now that I have nothing to live for," Voldemort noted that a touch of madness had entered his voice. What a great Dark Lord he would have made, "I will kill you, and end the world."
"What?!?! Why would you end the world?"
"No need to scream, Tommy. I am right here after all. And in response to your question: Life and the world in general have fucked me over too many times to count. I think it's time I return the favor. Apocalypse is upon us."
Harry kicked the chair back and summoned a strange, skin toned book to him. The book exuded power. Voldemort could feel the malignancy exuded from the tome. It pulsed with evil, Harry seemingly uncaring of the vile book in his hands continued to chant. The black mist converged on the man. Filling him with some unholy power that outshone the sun in intensity and blackened the skies above them.
"There hat he lain for ages and will lie,
Battening on the huge seaworms in his sleep;
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.
That is not dead which can eternal lie.
And with strange aeons
even death may die."
Lightning crashed around them, lighting strange fires that burned everything they touched with purple fire.
"Soon, Tom, so very soon and Cthulhu will be upon us and we will all be equal in death. But first, I have one more thing yet to do."
Lord Voldemort, no Tom Riddle, the impending destruction of the planet, his life and his culture; which he had indirectly caused and rid him of all false ego, looked up at the last Potter with red eyes full of sorrow. He found himself looking down the barrel of a Beretta.
As if seeing him for the first time, Harry peered down at the former Dark Lord.
"Hmmmm…. You're finally seeing what you caused, aren't you? Does this make you proud? Knowing that everyone in the world, all the purebloods, half-bloods, muggle-borns and muggles will be dead because of you. YOU are the cause of this, Tom Riddle. It is your fault that I have unleashed this evil god on humanity. If they cannot learn to love one another then they do not deserve to live. Now die."
The roar of gunfire filled the air and the worst dark lord in a century was no more.
Harry looked down at the cracking earth, revealing a monstrously carven portal which was slowly being forced open. The world was ending. He had been the cause. Huge Kraken-like tentacles were forcing the portal open. They whipped through the air, decimating what was left of Diagon Alley. He looked up to see a mandible the size of a small house bearing down on him.
"'We can expect great things from you' my ass."
Cthulhu had arrived.
AN: Just came to me after dinner. Thought it would be a fun way for Harry to end things on his terms. I don't own anything. I thought this turned out rather well. Tell me what you think.