author's note: first ever story, will be a crossover with final fantasy crisis core, which will come in next chapter, no slash if you were wondering as i hate that (im male), and there will be lots of fighting and martial arts and powerful magic and general destruction. oh lol, in case you hadent wondered this will be a super harry story, course its also a super voldemort so it all balences out see?
disclaimer: dont own harry potter or final fantasy 7, if its from them someone else owns it, if not, its mine and if you take it without asking ill kill you...maybe not, but i've got a really mean tortoise ill set on you, got it?
reviews might be nice, i dont know. ive never had one before
so welcome one and all to... a warrior's pride and dreams
...
Chapter 1
The tall imposing figure of the Dark Lord Voldemort swept up the stairs of his enemies manor, his powerful foe broken and cooling on the floor behind him. Wreathed in an aura of power shaped by ancient magics of dark purpose, the very air crackled and warped around him as dark malevolence poured into the atmosphere. Such that the brightness and grandeur of the centuries old wizarding home seemed to choke and die in his presence. Bright paintings and patterns on the walls fading and cracking as he passed.
Lord Voldemort's foot, crested the stairs as he moved with implacable grace, casually rolling thirteen and a half inches of yew between thumb and forefinger as sparks of black lightning seemed to dance across his knuckles. He turned his head and followed the bright essence of the child and his mother, the presences behind the baby blue door at the end of the hallway he found himself on.
Six measured strides brought him to the door, senses beyond sight flickering over the door in a cursory examination to ensure the absence of traps or wards. While the Lord's piercing green eyes, illuminated by flickering dark fires within swept across its surface. The cursive script proclaiming "Baby Harry" and the images of prancing fawns brought a small smile to the corner of the Implacable Lord's mouth.
Genuine amusement welled up in him as he pondered the possibility of a supposedly great warrior for the light and the prophesised downfall of himself, arising in such an environment pampered and loved, with no fires of adversity to temper him, no hardship to strengthen him. "Still" theDark Lord considered "prophecy is prophecy, and I am not such a fool as to ignore forces that are only somewhat understood", he would be thorough in eliminating risks no matter how absurd.
A flex of his will and a shockwave of pure magical force rippled off his black and emerald form, buckling the wall around the door and hurling the door itself from its frame in an explosion of splinters into the room. Voldemort stepped in to the room, leant around the curse thrown his way by the desperate red haired woman in front of the cot and with a negligent wave of his wand, blasted hers into the corner of the room.
Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he studied the woman, tall and fine featured though her features were contorted into a snarl of rage and loss, presumably due to his disposing of her husband downstairs. The woman's powerful aura burned brightly before his mystical senses, snapping and roaring in agitation, fear and anger. Unfortunately for her it was uncontrolled and wild, she evidently had no training in wandless spell casting leaving her defenceless for all her power.
Despite her poor breeding this woman was obviously a witch with great potential and with Voldemort's plans for a new age of unfettered magical progress. She could be valuable.
"never let it be said that I am not merciful" Voldemort thought with wry amusement as he opened his mouth and interrupted her babbling "Stand aside you foolish girl, I am only here for the child" he said powerfully. The woman babbled some more but she did not move aside and Voldemort was in somewhat of a hurry, as he wanted to be gone before Dumbledore was able to interrupt. "Ahh well, I tried" he thought laconically as he brushed her out of existence with a careless killing curse, then strode over to stand beside the cot and looked down.
"So this is the boy who could defeat me?" he pondered looking at the child, for he knew that of the two born as the seventh month died, young potter had the far stronger parents, despite their lack of true training.
Green eyes widened as he probed the boy with senses, extending his magic to study the boy inside and out "he is powerful, very powerful for his age, no doubt he would be a high sorcerer on a par with myself given time." satisfied the boy was without doubt the one he sought, Voldemort was about to brush him away as he did the mother, when he sensed something else, something subtle yet powerful. "Blood Wards! Perhaps I shouldn't have killed the mother after all, if she had progressed so far. She could have been truly valuable! He thought in surprise. Blood wards were powerful, and those based on sacrifice were stronger still. Curiously obscure though, he wondered where she had found the information, he would have to have his minions search the house at a later date.
He paused for a few more moments to consider the impact this would have on his casting, the killing curse would do, he concluded, but he would pour as much power as he could into it, to overcome the shield and reinforcement to the weak unformed infant soul, the wards so quickly cast by the dying mother would provide.
So decided, Voldemort gathered the full might of his magical energies to himself, a powerful wind stirred before a visible aura of black and green energy flared around him and the air wavered as if recoiling from the dark being stood within it, the ceiling above the Dark lord started to blacken and shuddering waves of power forced the wooden floor to ripple outwards from his feet, the house to rattle, crashing noises beneath as wells stressed by spell fire collapsed under the strain. The sense of malevolence in the air became suffocating, the child on the bed screamed in terror and Voldemort levelled right arm and wand at the boy, pulsing waves of crimson lightning rippling down the arm from shoulder to magical focus, energy enough to destroy a city, building and growing within the yew wood, as it began to glow with an unearthly green light. Once Voldemort judged it enough and the energy moulded to his purpose he locked his eyes on the squalling infant, and despite the exultant emotional high from feeling power of the magnitude roaring through his body, allowed himself to feel one moment of faint regret before releasing the spell.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A blinding torrent of brilliant green soul magic poured from the Dark Lord's wand, the sound of rushing death, hollow winds and barely perceptible screams roared in the ears of Dark Lord and infant, filling their ears and minds as the pillar of light rushed towards the child's head, but just before it would have struck, a blinding golden cage delicate and intricate as a thousand spider webs but shining with the light and power of the sun erupted from the skin of the infant. The pillar of green death magic slammed into the cage with all the force and subtlety of a train crash, much of the energy was deflected in an explosion of power and green sparks, flashing outwards and annihilating the cot and much of the bedroom while the two magical beings stayed locked within a pillar of light and power, the one bent over the other trying to break the golden shield surrounding the screaming infant body as it was held immobile by the duelling energies.
In another world, another time, another Voldemort had not noticed the subtle protection of the blood wards tied into the child's, blood and soul and so had not prepared himself so thoroughly and when the curse and hit the shield and he had thrown his magical might into reinforcing the spell to break through it had taken all he had to break the shield at such short notice and only a fragment of a fragment of the energy of the killing curse had struck the boy, whose soul, reinforced by the power of the blood wards had easily thrown off the energy, which was returned unfocused to the dark lord, and destroying his undefended body in a magical explosion.
This Voldemort was not so unperceptive, with the precharged killing curse many many times more powerful than any thrown before it in history, the shield was almost shattered deflecting only that initial energy and the dark lord more prepared for the defence was quicker and more decisive in throwing more energy into the spell so when the golden shield shattered beneath the power of the killing curse, a far greater quantity of killing energy struck the child beneath.
As the energy tore at the bindings between the child's soul, the reinforcement provided by the blood wards prevented the immediate expulsion of the soul from the body and instead the curse tore at the soul, ripping into and damaging the energies of the immortal essence, loosening it from the body to accomplish its purpose while the soul fought to remain in the body and throw off the curse. But the soul was young and the infant had had few experiences and had never been forced to fight anything, it did not have the strength of will that adversity brought, the will to fight that fighting brings. And so the soul of young Harry Potter was torn and ripped and death was imminent, when the damage done to the soul had a curious affect.
You see some infants do not have a new soul, most do in fact, the vast majority of souls are quite content to rest in one of the various afterlives for eternity (or in the case of hell dimensions unable to leave). Some souls however, were both pure of heart enough to get into a pleasant afterlife without such stringent restrictions and yet are too restless to enjoy everlasting peace, are too eager for the thrills that life has shown them and so choose to return to life, reborn into a new form and their previous identities submerged deep within the soul and a new blank slate is formed. Of these restless souls, the majority are warriors.
So it was that with the power of death tearing at this young soul, that the identity, the form of the soul's past life, came to the surface just briefly, just enough to feel the attack. And this form of the soul knew how to fight, had spent a lifetime fighting, and had grown strong and knew that attack is best met with attack.
The soul threw itself at the attacking energy and bent itself with all the will formed in a lifetime of war to the attack and in doing so the old soul form submerged the new, and energy absorbed by the old soul within its life came with it.
And floating in a pillar of white light, connected via a pillar of green power two feet across to the Dark Lord Voldemort, most powerful Dark Lord in centuries of powerful lords, an infant Harry Potter stopped screaming and his eyes began to glow with green light. Voldemort's eyes widened as the spell so close to completion, stopped.
Then Potter Manor exploded.