AN – Hello everyone long time no speak. Sorry about my absence I have been very busy and have been travelling around South East Asia for several months. This particular idea was conceived on a beach in Thailand and written in an afternoon. It is based on the first verse of a Machine Head song called I am Hell (Sonata in C#). If you are interested the lyrics are:

I am death
Arms held outstretched
I am hell
Born this mortal shell
I am wrath
Take this bloodbath
God sent me to kill you

I must warn you this story is very dark and involves allusions to rape and torture to a minor. If this offends you I suggest you stop reading now. As always I don't own any of JK's stuff nor do I own Machine Head's. Please read and enjoy.

"And so you see Mr Potter, we need your help. Without you we cannot hope to survive the coming of the Dark Lord Slytherin." The earnest young face of the Ministry flunky looked up appealingly into the stony emerald gaze of the man in front of him.

It had been ten years since his famous defeat of the previous Dark Lord, Voldemort. Ten short years before another pretender sprang from the fetid underbelly of the Wizarding World. Harry was so tired of it, and it showed on his world weary face.

He had almost completely withdrawn from the world he had saved a decade ago. For it had never totally accepted him, as much as he wished otherwise. For a while he had tried, he had joined the Aurors and by anyone's measure had been incredibly successful. Anyone's measure that is, apart from the petty bureaucrats and corrupt Lords who ran the country. Everything he did was wrong. He did not follow procedure, they howled, or they declaimed that the arrested man was from a good family and could not possibly be a criminal. Justice was a concept long dead in the minds of the Wizengamot, innocence and guilt traded on the open market like any other commodity.

Harry had lasted three years before he threw the towel in and quit. It simply wasn't worth it. His only link now, a wife and three children. If it wasn't for Ginny and the kids he would be a total recluse, living from the exceedingly comfortable inheritances from his parents and Sirius.

Ron and Hermione were the only ones who attempted to keep in contact but that was only for their own selfish reasons. Ron whenever he needed help on some case or another that he couldn't solve for the Aurors he remained a part of. Hermione was worse, always trying to make him support whatever ridiculous motion she had for the Wizengamot or trying to borrow one the many rare and valuable tomes he had collected. Initially he had not minded their intrusions but once too often Ron had insisted on his help or books leant had not found their way back to him.

He ignored them all now, content to spend his time in his study area, pushing the boundaries of magic, rediscovering old esoteric spells, experimenting. His only contact with the outside world when he went on a walk to the Muggle village shop or just around the surrounding countryside. It was during one of these walks to the shop that the flunky had accosted him. Against his better judgement he invited him into the garden to hear him out, there was no way he was letting the flunky into his house.

"Why?" The question clearly flustered the flunky.

"Why what, Mr Potter?"

"Why should I help you Smith or whatever your name is?"

"Harris Sir. Well because we need you, your country needs you."

Harry snorted "and this should mean something to me why exactly?"

"Because you owe us" the flunky snapped, losing his cool.

"I owe you..?" Harry rolled the statement around his mouth as if it were a fine wine he was trying to absorb every taste of. "I owe nothing."

"Of course you…" Harris never got to finish as the whole area seemed to cool rapidly. Where once had been clear blue skies on a fine early summer's afternoon was now a broiling mass of clouds, menacing the sky. Harry took a hold of himself with difficulty and the clouds retreated.

"Listen to me you little shit, I couldn't care less for you or your pitiful excuse for a government. I fought and bled for your miserable life and you have the gall to suggest that I owe you? Get out of my sight flunky and tell your masters they can fuck off as well."

Harris turned and fled for his life, for in that instant when he looked at his objective, he saw death in cold pitiless eyes.

"I told you it wouldn't work" stated Senior Undersecretary to the Minister Hermione Weasley. "He does not care for us anymore, he's too wrapped up in his childish view of the world. He thinks only of himself and not the greater good of Magical Britain."

Minister Shacklebolt leaned back with a sigh, "so what do we do about it?"

"We proceed with my plan as I suggested from the very beginning, it's the only thing that will work" she sniffed arrogantly.

Edward Harris was a timid man by nature and so it was with great reluctance that he tried to voice his opinion in front of his overall boss and the Minister to boot. "Er I'm not sure it's such a good idea ma'am, you didn't see him today" he shuddered. "I thought he was going to kill me right there."

"Nonsense" Hermione snorted "Harry is too delicate and in love with right and wrong to kill anyone. He didn't even kill You-Know-Who, just reflected a killing curse back at him. Even when he was an Auror he never killed anyone, always brought them in alive. Why even you killed in the course of your Auror career Minister, perfectly reasonably of course" she added hastily. "No Harry just needs to be properly motivated and if there's one thing we can count on its his 'saving people thing' and we have just the targets."

Harry was still sat at the table in the garden when Ginny returned from picking up the kids from school and preschool. Seeing him outside they ran to him. James, being the eldest, reached him first and launched himself at his father, hugging him tightly. Albus was not far behind and little Lily forced he way through the mass to claim her father. "Daddy" she squealed as he tickled her. She was and absolute Daddy's girl and Harry doted on her. She had him wrapped around her little finger from the moment she was born, with her captivating, wide emerald eyes, an exact match to her father and namesake.

"Did you have a good day at preschool Princess?"

She launched into an extensive reply which her brothers tolerated good naturedly before Ginny scooped her up, saying she needed help in the kitchen. Lily was only too happy to oblige and she went inside with her mother, babbling happily.

"And what about you boys, how was school?"

"Good Dad" they chorused before Albus nudged James forward.

Having obviously been elected spokesman, James asked in a rush "Dad can we have a go on our brooms today?" Both sons turned chocolate brown eyes towards him plaintively.

"How can I refuse such faces" he said with a smile thinking of his wife's identical brown eyes. The boys whooped in victory and rushed off to fetch their brooms.

'Yes' Harry thought 'life is good'. He had already pushed the inconsequential minion from his mind, and that was a mistake.

One of the major problems with school is that, even when it is coming up to the end of the term, they have regular schedules. Now for most people this is not a problem, quite the opposite in fact, but for Ginny Potter it most assuredly was. For years since marrying Harry she had avoided regular schedules as much as humanly possible. Such things make you vulnerable to all kinds of nasty things when you are married to a high profile man with a lot of enemies. Picking the kids up from school was something that had to be done though and it was this fact that her attackers obviously relied upon.

She knew something was wrong as she returned to her car parked outside St Margaret's Infant and Primary School and found one of her tyres was flat. Not a great problem, she had grown up with six elder brothers and was not adverse to getting her hands dirty but she couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that something was out of place.

She changed the tyre for the spare as the other mothers steadily drifted out of the car park after seeing she had the job well in hand. Had she been paying more attention she would have noticed her children quieten as their game of chase was abruptly ended by three burly men.

"Good afternoon Mrs Potter. Ah, ah put that down, we wouldn't want anything to happen to one of your lovely children now would we?"

Ginny turned to face the speaker, an oily man with a thin rat like face. She raised her hands slowly away from her wand, eyes flicking to her captured children. There was nothing she could do but she knew Harry would get them. They would have to contact him in order to pass along their ransom demands and she knew her husband would come like a vengeful God, annihilating everything in his path.

Dear Boy-Who-Lived, so called Man-Who-Won,

I have no doubt that you have heard of me so to impress upon you how serious I am, I have taken your wife and children. Do not worry they will be quite safe, all I need from you is a guarantee that you will not interfere in my takeover of the Wizarding Public. Should you do so I will be forced to kill them all. As proof I enclose a lock of your daughter's rather lovely red hair. Remember do not interfere.

Yours Sincerely

Lord Slytherin

Harry howled with rage as he read the letter again. How dare this little upstart take his wife and children. He had been so caught up in his research that he hadn't noticed his family's absence the previous night but then the letter came this morning. His immediate reaction was to grab his wand, apparate straight to the Ministry and find out all he could about this Slytherin asshole. But then he stopped.

'Yours sincerely'? That was not a magical phrase, it was a Muggle letter writing convention. No Dark Lord calling themselves Slytherin would stoop to that.

He took a deep breath and read the letter once more, dispassionately this time. It wasn't right.

It was too flowery in some places, not enough in others. He expected it signed something more like 'His Magnificence, Lord Slytherin'. Something else bothered him. Twice it mentioned 'interfere'. A Dark Lord wouldn't ask for that. No, it would either be a ploy to trap him or they would just kill his family to make him suffer. Holding them hostage for no gain was not the Dark Lord way.

The whole thing stank. He sat down again. What was it aiming to make him do? It couldn't have been more calculated to piss him off with its use of his hated 'titles'. Too calculated in fact. What had he wanted to first of all? Those fucking bastards.

He grabbed his wand and apparated straight into the office of one Hermione Weasley, tearing apart centuries old anti-apparition wards as if they were tissue paper.

"Where are they you little whore?" he screamed at his former best friend who was staring at him open mouthed. Power was rolling off him in crashing waves, sucking up previously neatly stacked piles of parchment in its vortex. "Where are they?" he roared, shaking her from her stupor.

"But you can't apparate in the Ministry" she mumbled.

"Where?"

She swallowed. "I don't know what you are talking about" she stammered.

"I know you have them you bitch; I can smell your interfering hands all over the letter I got."

"What letter?" she squeaked.

"The one claiming to be some Dark Lord after kidnapping my family. Oh you think you are so smart don't you? Little Miss know it all Granger. He won't do what we want so let's manipulate him into doing what we are too pitiful to do ourselves."

He backhanded her, a mighty blow snapping her head back. He picked her up from the floor and smashed her against the office wall, her feet dangling helplessly 6 inches from the floor as he stared into her eyes wishing he was better at Legillimency. He dropped her roughly and turned to leave.

"You have two hours to return them." He turned back and fixed her watering eyes with a glare. His voice dropped to the dead toneless register that had so many criminals simply give up rather than face death while he was with the Aurors. "If they are not back with me in two hours I will find them and kill everyone that is holding them. If they are harmed in any way I will burn this fucking world to the ground. I will bathe it in blood; Voldemort will seem like a fond memory compared to what I will do. Two hours. Tick Tock."

He apparated away leaving Hermione shivering on the floor. "Those eyes" she whispered "without the glasses, it's like looking into the pit of hell itself." She needed to get word to Malfoy quickly to sort this out. How had her perfect plan gone so badly wrong?

Draco Malfoy was currently lounging in a chair in the dungeons of his Manor house. Cowering in one of the cells were the three spawn of hated Potter. Ginny was in another cell, unconscious. Draco's story is a curious one, or perhaps not in the Magical world. After the Battle of Hogwarts he was acquitted of being a Death Eater thanks to some hefty donations. Following on from this was a very public, and very false, parting of the ways with his father. Lucius still lived in the Manor in fact. Draco joined the Ministry and served in the Wizengamot, the very picture of a redeemed man. He fooled everyone, especially the know it all, who had him infiltrate the ranks of Lord Slytherin as a Ministry spy. Under her orders, or so she thought, in reality it had taken careful manipulation to get her to suggest it, if Draco said so himself. In actual fact there was no Lord Slytherin, only the Malfoy's, some of the old crowd from the Death Eater days and the latest batch of sympathetic Purebloods. After all how could the Ministry fight an idea, a figurehead that didn't exist?

He hadn't actually suggested the plot to remove Potter from the game but he had to admit it was a good one. He had of course been the obvious choice to house the captives and he had such fun with them, particularly little Lily. His father had dealt with the boys; Draco's tastes didn't run to the males. He was laying back in the comfortable afterglow waiting for Ginny to awaken so he could have some fun there as well. He enjoyed watching the spawns sobbing quietly in the corner, huddled together, battered and bleeding.

His patience ran out and he wakened Ginny. Her eyes widened in surprise before she opened her mouth, no doubt ready to release some petty abuse. He silenced her casually with a wave of his wand and entered her cell with a sordid grin on his face as he parted his robes again.

Harry fully expected the bitch to jump all over herself to return his family but just in case she didn't he was making preparations. The Elder Wand had never gone back into Dumbledore's tomb and was currently strapped in his right wrist holster along with his Holly and Phoenix feather wand. In his left was its brother wand, Voldemort's Yew and Phoenix feather. He had discovered the secret to dual casting in his studies. You simply needed twin wands, otherwise the connection between them is not strong enough to channel magic through both at the same time.

He had practised the art heavily and with no false modesty he was thoroughly proficient at it. He stretched his six foot four frame with the grace and power of a jungle cat. He tied his shoulder length ebony hair back and began his first batch of one hundred press ups. He thought back to his first attempt at this and his glasses slipping off and breaking. He allowed himself a small smile at his old self. That deficiency had been corrected by an experimental Muggle process using lasers that eliminated his need for glasses.

He had initially started his exercise regimen because he discovered that the healthier the body, the easier it was to channel magic. The additional bonus was that exercise blocked out the nightmares, and there were a lot to be blocked out. He wasn't even breathing heavily as he snapped off the hundredth press up with military-like precision. Next were the sword exercises.

Study of ancient Japanese manuscripts had shown him that the Samurai of old enchanted their blades and could even cast with them. It had taken three years of intense study but he had finally managed to craft his own. It was perfect in every way but one. There had been one final step that had been tantalisingly mentioned in several sources however he had shied away from following through with it because it required a human soul to be imbibed into the blade. The body was left an empty shell, as if kissed by a dementor and the soul itself would be in eternal torment if the stories of the blade screaming were to be believed. Before the mere thought had sickened him but now, if his family was hurt in any way there would be nothing to limit his actions, no shred of conscience to hold him back.

Although the Slytherin Conspiracy had agreed with the Malfoy's actions of raping and torturing the captives, they had not been made aware of the final stage in the plot. After many doses of the Cruciatus curse on all of the prisoners, Ginny was bought to the children's cell and imperiused. The children sobbed anew as their mother walked mechanically towards them and placed her hands first around Lily's neck and squeezed. Even the confusion and terror in her emerald eyes could not break through Draco's Imperio although it tore Ginny's soul. By the time all three children were lying still, eyes bulging, Ginny's mind had snapped so that she was rocking back and forth, hands still clenched around her eldest's neck.

Frantically Hermione was banging on the Malfoy door, she had been for almost an hour now but nobody was answering. Her knuckles were bleeding now to go along with the trickle that still seeped from her split lip where Harry had hit her. Harry had hit her, she couldn't believe it, she touched her heavily bruised cheek as if to convince herself again. Finally the door opened. Draco's smile was soon dashed as the battered face of Hermione came into view. It looked like someone had taken a beaters bat to her face but it was the look of raw terror that most disconcerted him.

"What…?" he never got to finish the question.

"Where are they? We need to get them back to him now! Harry's gone insane, he says if we don't return them immediately, he will kill everything and I believe him."

Icy tendrils of fear gripped Draco's heart. "They are dead" he whispered "Ginny killed them, strangled them" Well it was true in a way, just neglected to mention his own part in the tale. "She seems to have gone mad now. I left them alone in their cell for a minute and when I came back they were dead." He swallowed, trying to convince himself as much as her.

She sagged against the wall and let out a whimper that Draco barely heard "then we are all dead, God save our souls."

"He will do no such thing. Your Christian God cares not, for he sent me to kill you. in fact your soul belongs to me now."

Hermione looked into Draco's eyes and saw the same raw terror that must have mirrored her own. She smelt the stench of stale urine and wondered whether it was her or Draco that had lost control.

She turned slowly and looked to the face of death. The angel of death, an unholy purveyor of vengeance had come to claim her and she felt only despair as the fires of retribution flickered in emerald green eyes.

Many hours later a blood soaked figure appeared on the steps of Gringotts bank. In his outstretched left hand was the fabled Deathstick of old and in his right was a Katana, still dripping crimson blood. It emitted a high pitched screaming sound. The figure's clear voice drew the attention of every shopper in Diagon Alley as it rang across the streets.

"Greetings. I am Death, an agent of wrath. Welcome to Hell."

For those who have read my other stories I apologise for my quiet on them but I am currently in the process of rewriting them, not majorly just changing a few things here and there and of course correcting the grammar and spelling where I can. I am hopeful that I can start to repost The Power of the Mind v2.0 soon but I make no promises as to when that will be. As ever thank you for reading I hope to see you again soon.