Rage Against the Dying of the Light

by WillowRook

Two young boys at different ends of the world. Much in common, but two different choices. One, the leading hope of the Light and the other the lieutenant of the Dark. An epic about overcoming the odds to become what they were born to be. The journey of two special wizards as they achieve their dreams, only for one to lose it all at the hands of the other. AU, OCs. Frequent updates.

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 : A Trip Down Memory Lane

Disclaimer : I do not own any part of Harry Potter and all credit goes to J.K Rowling.

A/N: First of all, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to have a look at this story. I have always been a massive fan of darker Harry Potter stories, which are probably my favorite followed by a strong and independent Harry Potter. However, I have come to the conclusion that it is very difficult to write a story revolving around Harry raised by the dark without resorting to various ludicrous ideas and cliches, hence have decided to try something different. I hope this a competent attempt at an engaging story with decent writing and grammar, minimal clichés and no unnecessary bashing of characters, focusing on subjects that have stagnated in recent time or/and do not have too many existing stories. It will not be a one sided story. This is my first attempt at writing after years of reading and I do hope to write at a fast pace but at the same time kindly excuse any minor writing errors, which I promise to try and keep low. All constructive feedback is welcomed and thank you again. (Warnings: Will be heavily AU in the future, might contain mature themes in the future resulting in a change of rating to 'M' and OCs. First few chapters to be slower paced)

Chapter 1

30th November 1979

A cold wind swept through the overcast sky as the little remaining sunlight faded, the gloomy evening morphing into a starless night. Winter was approaching as the days died quickly and the nights grew long and silent. A magnificent castle stood tall and proud, a symbol of knowledge and progress, a temple of learning and most importantly of all, the result of ancient magic withstanding the tests of time. Hogwarts. The legendary school which had seen the hopes and dreams of thousands of children over centuries stood somber and quiet. There was an uneasiness in the air, a feeling that the inevitable was just around the corner. Indeed, this was the mood of most of the wizarding world in Britain. However, nowhere was it more palpable than in a high tower of the grand castle, where in an office filled with instruments of the most wondrous kind, behind a large desk, with his long delicate fingers joined, piercing blue eyes staring deep into space, sat an old man.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was indeed a very old man. Perhaps the most impressive thing about Albus Dumbledore was not his various titles- Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Order of Merlin First Class, Headmaster of Hogwarts and many more. It wasn't even the fact that he was widely acknowledged as the greatest wizard of the last few centuries, blessed with a natural affinity for magic and a brain as sharp as any. It was the way one could effortlessly forget that the man before them was more than a century old. Dressed in colorful and cheerful robes, a long beard tucked into his belt, sharp blue eyes which seemed to twinkle unnaturally and were said to look straight into a person and a gentle and kind face, Albus Dumbledore was longevity, wisdom and goodness personified.

At the present however, he looked every bit his age. The twinkle from his eyes was lost, there was no soft smile, in its place was a man looking back down the years and most of all, regret. Albus Dumbledore looked back at his long and great life thus far. He had made many mistakes in his youth, the effects and memories of which still haunted him to this very day. One could not deny however, that he had done all that he could and more to rectify the mistakes he had made so very long ago. From fighting the darkness which threatened the peace of the wizarding world, to discovering the various uses of dragon blood, along the way revolutionizing politics with his fight for equality for the depressed and shunned, he had done more good for the wizarding world than anyone else in recent memory. He knew that he had learnt from his mistakes, the foolishness of The Greater Good was long left behind and he never desired power or control again. Considering his experience and knowledge it was all the more surprising to himself that he had committed a mistake of this magnitude. As an old friend had once reprimanded him, being smarter than most men his mistakes tended to be much bigger than the mistakes of lesser men. But, to have seen the creation of a monster take place before his own eyes and done nothing when he had the chance was the height of foolishness and he feared, his biggest mistake yet.

Albus Dumbledore walked to the window of his office and looked out into the fading light. Not for the first time, a face seemed to shimmer in front of his eyes. Ever so pale, a small but cruel smile etched upon it with dark eyes that suddenly flashed crimson. In spite of himself, Dumbledore shivered and it was not because of the cold wind. His trip down memory lane ended and regret flared within him stronger than ever as the aristocratic face of Tom Marvolo Riddle faded before his eyes.

30th November 1979, Malfoy Manor

A trip down memory lane. The antithesis of Albus Dumbledore looked at his reflection in the still waters of the lake. Unlike the old fool everything about his physical appearance screamed elegance, power and most of all, danger. Tall and thin, with long spider like hands and skin so pale he seemed to glow. His once handsome features were replaced by a pale and snakelike face and there wasn't a hair on his body, which was decorated by black robes so fine and thin, they seemed to flow and swirl around him like shadows. He had always been alone, since the very day he was born. In his solitude he had experienced the way of non-magical folk. 'Mudbloods' a flash of irritation speared through his mind. He had witnessed their weakness. Their pride despite their lack of power. They had treated him worse than dirt, trying to take away whatever he had, despite the fact that he had nothing. He had already despised them before he learnt the truth about himself. Only once he had learnt more about himself and his world did he truly realize the dangers muggles posed.

Since as early as one could remember, muggles had been afraid of the unknown. They feared anything they couldn't understand. And what they didn't understand they ruthlessly wiped out. It had begun with the widespread burning of wizards and witches, which had ultimately led them into hiding. Since then both societies had progressed. He felt another flash of disgust in his mind as he dwelt upon the wizarding world, opening its walls, ready to accommodate and welcome muggles born with magic in spite of their lack of knowledge, their ignorance and of course their weakness. Wizards had begun to intermingle with muggles as the number of half-bloods rose. The wizarding world led by that old fool Albus Dumbledore believed they were becoming civilized and equality for all was preached. He knew better. The muggle world had progressed in leaps and bounds in their technology and ability to destroy. However, their fear and ignorance remained. As did their greed, hatred and negativity. Selfish beings who lacked all sense of dignity and respect the old pure blood wizards held so dear. Muggles who seek to destroy the power they can never have. And they would, sure as the sun would rise the next morning, once the inevitable slip happened and the wizards' existence was revealed, the armies and machinery of the muggle world would erase them from the face of the earth.

Thus, he sought to change things, to protect what he held dear. The power of magic. The purity of wizard blood, the old traditions and ways. The wizarding world had taken to following the muggles, trying to wipe out what they couldn't understand. After the era of Gellert Grindelwald the wizarding world looked down on and criminalized dark magic. Fools. There was no dark, there was no light. The only truth was power and the intent to use that power. The power of magic. Grindelwald had worked towards bringing down the organization of the wizarding world due to his belief in the Greater Good. He however, had other reasons.

His mother, she had been weak and death had taken her easily. Since his days in the dark orphanage alone where he discovered his powers, the only thing he had of his own, he made a vow which was only strengthened after he discovered his origins. Never would he be weak, never would he fall prey to death and let it rob him of the power he was blessed with. He would uphold the old ways and bring them back. The wizarding world had to move forward truly and it would do so under him. The last reason which spurred him on was the memories of what the muggles had done to him, every bit of torture he had faced at their hands. Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead. Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, the Greatest of The Hogwarts Four was what had risen from the ashes. And he never forgave, and he never forgot. He had been called a monster many times and he truly was. But insane? No, the only insanity in him was the burning desire to change what had gone wrong, and change it he would. He felt the comfort of the cold wind as blood red eyes stared unblinkingly into the distance.

A/N: Well, there is chapter one. I apologize if it's been too slow but I have always wanted to imagine the atmosphere right on the brink of war and of course the prophecy hasn't been made yet. I've tried to make Lord Voldemort's ideas and aims realistic, do let me know what you think. Please read and review, I find myself with too much time on my hands for my liking and if the story is well received I will definitely be updating every day for a couple of months. Feel free to PM me for any queries, feedback etc.