Ok. I'm going to try and make a good fic here. This is a cross between a section of the Outlanders series and Harry Potter. It'll have some interesting twists. Let me know what you think.

The bright light seared his eyes. He ducked under the beam, and shot a stunning curse at Voldamort. He rolled, and stood once more, facing him. Voldamort laughed at him. He swung his wand up to finish the boy.

Harry Potter was finally battling the man he started his adventure to kill. He stepped forward, throwing a jelly legs curse at Voldamort.

"I'm running out of ideas. I've tried everything," Harry thought.

He dodged another beam. From the brush to his left, a cloaked figure stepped forth.

"Run boy."

Without hesitation, Harry did just that. He turned and bolted. All was quiet as he wandered through the forest, hearing the cries behind him. He slowed to listen. He couldn't make out much.

A loud thud was heard by a loud, cold laugh. He turned and started to run. Stopping every so often, Harry heard footprints following him.

"Shit. I didn't cover my tracks.

He was running through some thick weeds. He looked behind him only to see the faint shadow following him. Voldamort was chasing Harry Potter. He decided fighting him wasn't the best of ideas.

Harry picked up his pace. He saw a near bye outlet of trees and so he ducked into it. He calmed his breathing, and took stock of himself. Other then a gash on his cheek, and the scratches and scrapes from the thorn branches on his shielding arms, he was all right. The footsteps slowed to a walk. Harry, staying concealed, watched. His suspicions were confirmed. The man that so daringly tried to save him failed. Harry gulped. He looked out, and saw the blood covering Lord Voldamort.

"Now or never."

Harry stepped out, facing his enemy. Voldamort stopped and stared.

"Harry. Nice of us to see each other again. Pity I didn't have time to clean up wouldn't you say?"

"I guess so. Who was that?"

"Oh him? Your father. You didn't know he was one of the Masked Fighters did you kid."

"My father? You murdered him!"

"Not exactly. You see. He got the first blow. I intend to put little Nina and your whore of a mother to rest in the burning flames beside him. Following that, you. Or maybe I'll let you watch.

Harry stared in astonishment at Voldamort. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words formed.

As a boy of only 16, Harry had never lost his family before. He stepped back, looking up at Voldamort. He sighed, "Not exactly anyways."

"Can I give you some friendly advice, nephew? Stand still and make it easy!

"Ever sense you declared yourself a dark wizard, uncle, I swore I'd come after you"

"Missing school even? Well. Isn't that smart? Self-teaching only gets you so far. Your mother wasn't even stupid enough to forget that. But, oh well. You're here, and I'm going to have to kill you. But sense we're family and all, let me do the honors of humoring you."

"Why? Why didn't you join the Masked Fighters like my father, your brother, did? You know you'd be well off there."

"I didn't because I wanted to be out of his shadow for once. I wanted to be the one to be recognizes. It's always James this, James that, Never Tom! Never!"

"How did you come up with a nifty name for yourself?"

I took my mother's maiden name, riddle, and my middle name Movolo, and formed it."

Harry knew this part of it, he felt dumb for asking the question. He looked down on the green snake on his arm, the symbol of the Masked Fighters. The piece keepers in the warring world. The group he, Harry James Potter, would die a part of.

"It's no big deal is it? So I wanted to be different. I told your father that, and he supported me. It's his fault I'm so powerful."

"Why?"

"I told him all I wanted to do was to run my own school. I didn't want to be a piece keeper."

"Where's your school!" Harry spouted, interrupting him.

"I call my organization, the school of mischief, you should know that Harry. We're organized. We teach our young. Professor Dumbledoor from Hagwartz suggested that."

"Snape will never allow him to continue. Dumbledoor was killed this morning."

"Ahh yeah. I know. He's no longer needed. The old git was in a wheelchair anyways. St Mungo's can't heal everything you know. Well, not that curse I put on him. You see, he swore I'd be the leader of the faction. He swore that I'd be the one to make everyone proud. What did he do? He stole the spotlight. He took my show! My ideas and worked them."

"Wasn't he just trying to help?"

"Uh. No."

Harry's sweating face paled. He finally realized he didn't want to be here. He had to bring the order back into this world, if he could make it out alive.

The ministry was corrupt. They just wanted to take the gold the wizards gave them and build themselves better lives. After the ministry went on strike, and was eventually destroyed by it's own workers, the laws were dropped with it. Anarchy issued. For 130 years after, the world was made up of good and evil.

The Piece Fighters were formed, and. This group grew to be big, and was almost successful. Seth Riddle made sure his organization of Simba's, evil incarnates, put a stop to that.

The Simba's were members of the piece fighter's own families, friends, and acquaintances. The piece fighters spread the word for joining, and eventually were destroyed by the Simba's through the inside. The Simba's took over.

All hope wasn't lost, however. A small group formed themselves and renamed. They were now the Masked Fighters. Wearing masks and all black with a green snake on the sleeve of their robes, they concealed themselves and swore a magical pact that they wouldn't let their secret escape them.

It did, however. One pact member didn't join the pact. He was going to be accepted, when a Simba attack overthrew their camp. The induction was presumed finished, and he let it slip. From there, the secret piece keeping organization was loose.

One thing he didn't learn, however, was the member of it. They always dealt with him in masks.

After the Simba's tortured and killed many people, still not finding out that they were, they resigned.

Harry stepped forward. He looked up and down his uncle, turning his head to gaze past him into the blackened forest.

"I think it's time to die. I'm bored."

"Kill me then. You know my honor will live, and the Masked Fighters will hunt you eventually."

Oh. I know. That's why I'm not going to kill you. Look behind you."

"Ginny?"

Harry turned and stared at his lover of 3 years. She smiled, holding a bone knife in her hand.

"I love manipulation, honey. I knew I'd get a chance to fuck you over. The sex was good, but Tom gives it to me right. Nasty and dirty."

Harry's eyes fill with tears as his uncle laughs.

"I love you too sweety."

Harry recalled the memory of Ron, his friend, dying to his own mother's hand. Now, Harry, the lover, was going to die at his fiancé's.

"Kill me then."

Ginny's knife licked out, slashing a pare of lips in Harry's throat. The carotid artery severed, blood misted up and out over his lover's face. She waltzed up to him, placing his lips on his.

"Feel the kiss of death Harry my nephew, it'll be the last kiss you ever get."

Harry's knees weakening, he falls on his back. His vision dims, and eventually resolves to blackness. The last living memory he clutched onto, was that of Ginny's bloody lips on his paling ones. Her warm, snaking tongue, taking his mouth. Her moisture driving him into the pits of Hades.

The laughter too. His uncle was shrieking. Yet, somehow, Harry couldn't find it in his heart to except his death. He knew it was done only when life escaped him.

Remember the twists? It starts off with one of them. I hope you enjoyed my little plot I threw in here. I'm not going to reveal the truth yet. Let me know. Please review. I hope to keep this fic alive.