Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, (though I really really wish I did.)

Former Scotland,

30 July 2107.

Blood spread on the barren cracked stone, as magic was heavy in the air. Stood in the center of a matrix of delicate interlocking lines and surrounded by numerous corpses he felt more alive than he had in years. There still as a statue amidst the corpses of seven of his brethren stood a man who had power rolling off him, barely contained it rippled off him distorting the air and stirring the raw magic of the ritual. The atmosphere seemed to twist and crumple around his form until it finally yielded. His heart quickened and beat strongly in his chest excitement racing through his veins as the air grew ripe with magic, blinding red light lit the world around him erasing the sight of the desolate world their once lush home had become. The thick scent of blood yielding to that of ozone as the exchange of energy was accepted and life blood converted to raw magic.

Through narrowed eyes the powerful man glanced at those lying closest to him, his brethren of magical blood, those that had fought loyalty by his side for decades. Taking back what had been taken from them and then some. Destroying one lauded, scientific advancement after the other until their enemies were a crippled shell of their former might, as they should be…

Seven, who would now never see what they had achieved with their last breaths and sacrifice. Seven he would dearly miss... he forcefully steadied his breath and steeled his resolve, locking his sadness and regret behind occlumency shields. He could not afford to get distracted now or their death would have been in vain. He refused.

No he was not a man of weak will and so continued his part of the ritual loyally, never faltering even as the all too familiar sounds of jets rent through the air and the whistling of rockets became loud as the parasites came crawling out of their holes determined to make a nuisance of themselves to the bitter last. Obstinately he soldiered on as shouts of his comrades became as they cursed and returned fire, the all too familiar screech of machineguns battling against their impenetrateable shields shredding the before silent afternoon. Really these muggles always had to be so loud, if he had his way they would soon be silenced, permanently.

He wished he could add his magic to the fight well aware he was by leagues the strongest magical left on earth, that he could wrench that wretched muggle contraption from the sky…but that was not his place anymore. So obstinately he carried on, focusing on his task even as the south went up in a fiery blaze of destruction and noise.

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Atlantic

Headquarters

16 hours earlier…

On the top floor of an obsidian stone building, deserving the title of the most secure place left on this former blue planet, a faint explosion could be heard muffled by the heavy duty wards and runes curved into the thick reinforced blocks of stone. No one was bothered by it because there was only one sole occupant and said person was the source of the noise. In a large dimly lit room, ruled by a sort of organised chaos. There were stacks of old books on many a surface, vials and other crystal containers lined the walls and one of the shelves was occupied by all manner of strange contraptions of metal, crystal and glass. Crates of gems of all matter were carelessly deposited in a corner, brimming with the likes seldom seen even at a jeweller.

There was no window, only two reinforced doors that were both firmly shut, yet that did not mean a lack of visibility. The room was thrown into a eerie light by the many luminescent liquids that rested forebodingly in their shelves, yes the multitude of archived vials throwing an ominous shine onto the surroundings that made one think twice about stepping out of the circle of light in the centre of the room, shining down on table underneath. The harsh light of the single lamp bore down sharply on the multitude of notes and contraptions that looked to be stolen from some alchemists of old, throwing the contents of the metal table in stark contrast to the mystic of the rest.

There working away with single minded focus was a man that fit so well into the bizarre laboratory that one could almost believe he belonged to the inventory. Clad in almost Victorian dress and looking more like a doll than a true flesh and blood human the man toiled away fingers flying with grace over the contraptions adjusting screws and valves as clear liquid travelled through the many glass pipes to steadily drip into a steaming standard size two pewter cauldron. Hair wild and slipping out of the confines of it's ribbon he pushed his slipping glasses back up his nose he straightened and picked up his quill to mark down the last few results. Yes the man truly lent credence to the whole mad scientist lab vibe the room had going, despite the delicate looks.

All in all it was a room that made one apprehensive to touch anything as intriguing and alluring the objects may be, something hung in the air to impress just how bad of an idea it would be to give in to such a desire. It was a toxic discomforting room that the man felt right at home in. The scientist itself was just as strange as all the other items and indeed the room itself. He wasn't tall nor was he small and despite his wrinkle free smooth skin there was no sense of youthfulness about him and instead a sense of matured age making guessing at the age an impossible endeavour. He possessed a lure that enticed people closer but those with sharp instincts could feel the danger that surrounded him like a cloak. One could liken him to a viper lazing in the sun, looking half dead and harmless yet capable to strike at a moments notice should the need arise. A sharp mind hidden behind a doll-like face.

Dipping the tip of the pipette into the faintly glowing blue liquid he carefully dripped two drops on a pre-prepared Petri dish and examined it under the microscope. The grin that stretched the lips after a long moment was as terrifying as it was unsettling.

With a cheerful hum he carefully marked the last vial and overlooked his notes for accuracy before packing them away the new acid in a secure box and the recipe and notes in his blood-bound lab journal.

Despite starting the project as a distraction it had proven to be surprisingly fruitful, he'd finally made the last break through and the acid he'd managed to concoct would work nicely in the future. It's inherent composition allowing it not only to kill but completely disintegrate any evidence, leaving behind no residue at all that can be traced while obliterating the matter down to it's molecules. A far safer method to erase things than using magic, the problem being that when you vanish things the object doesn't really disappear but is merely sent elsewhere where some idiot may stumble upon it. It was a problem he had worked on for years and had now finally completed. He may be unaccustomed to the newfound silence and emptiness in the tower but it definitely had it's uses; not once did someone forcefully break the wards and storm inside after there was a small explosion. Nor was there incessant banging on the door when they were refused entry.

(His minions somehow managed to overpower the most heavy duty silencers in existence, at least he already knew the next hurdle he had to topple; silencing wards just didn't cut it anymore. Maybe he should look into a collaboration with the goblins…)

No matter how many times he told them it was part of the third to last step the ingredients were volatile and had appropriate reactions when mixed together, what did they expect an acid of this magnitude to contain daffodils and sparkles?

He suppressed a snort.

With a flick of the wrist the workstation was sanitized and the vials found their place on the shelves. A last assessing glance a languid stretch that had his back pop he left the room with a content sigh.

For being such a slow morning it had been satisfyingly productive.

Marching into his office next door he let his eyes sweep the room with a cursory glance as his instincts demanded taking in the neat rows of books the group of armchairs and pile of pillows in the corner before sliding behind his desk in front of the oval two meter long window with it's two inch thick window pane that his minions had forced upon him. With a sigh he relaxed into his chair setting his journal on his desk before swivelling to stare out at the polluted world beyond these walls. Tired eyes taking in the world that was all the wrong colours, and far too lifeless to still be called earth. In the unflattering light of the true world outside even the illusion of his own perfection was stripped away.

Long silky, dark hair tied back in a ponytail with a acid green ribbon and large hypnotising eyes partly obscured by square glasses, cupid lips and high cheekbones, all were striking enough that one did not notice the imperfections at first glance. Faint silvery scars decorated the skin souvenirs of a rough life of strife and aplenty experiments that maybe should have been planned better or simply been forgotten upon conception. instead the gaze was drawn to the paleness of the skin and the impeccable clothing the collar of a pristine white shirt that was promptly loosened to show a hint of clavicles, the soot clinging to he tips of the fingers was overseen in favour of the carelessly graceful movement that was the simple motion of picking up a glass of water.

He sighed despondently his mood plummeting now that he had no distraction any longer he felt the nostalgia creep upon him. There had been a few things he had wanted to accomplish before the event tonight but now his time had run out and he was left with regret and a bitter taste in his mouth. He took another sip of purified water and let his mind wander to the main one. The one that rankled him the most, the unfinished business left over from his long passed childhood.

He had had many on his list for vengeance, and he had taken relish in crossing each off as time went by but there were still three names that stood out starkly to this day, untouched and pristine no matter how much he wished to smear and devastate them. He blamed Dumbledore, he was always the one to set bad precedents, appearing holy while denying him his well deserved reward in a bit of just torture.

It seemed all those he really wanted to let know of his displeasure, the main aggressants of his miserable early life had had the bad tendency to drop dead before he had time to extract his revenge. A trend started by that old goat Dumblewhore. He should not have been surprised, that man had never had an ounce of propriety, going around calling students 'my boy', how he hadn't been branded a paedophile he'll never know.

He startled from his mussing by a the appearance of a crow woven of shadows a small rolled missive clasped in it's black beak. Recognising the creator instantly, the man accepted the parchment not bothered that the crow disintegrated instantly once it's job was complete, long being used to it.

Scanning the short missive, his posture straightening with the first sentence as his body heated up as the drums of war and carnage resounded within him, a wild sadistic smile spread his lips to let sharp incisors glint with poison.

Well, well, well, what do you know, good things do happen to those that wait.

Leaping to his feet with new vigour, he summoned his cloak and swung it about his shoulders with a broad grin as anticipation thrummed through him. Summoning his own shrunken torture-kit that he had put together a decade ago and always held ready to grab at a moments notice he was almost giddy at it finally seeing some action.

A head shot out from between the mountain of cushions, suddenly very alert. :$$: Wait! Take me too, take me too! oh please take me too.:$$:

The man turned and lifted a regal eyebrow. :$$:Why so eager? :$$:

:$$:I want to know if a horssse-giraff-human and a walrusss-human tasste different from the normal two leggerssss.:$$:

So he was eavesdropping at the vents again, those specific descriptions were only used when he was at his most venomous like two nights ago, when he was swearing aloud alone in his room. It seemed like nothing was safe from him, not even information. Nosy snake. It was a good thing he was the only one who could understand him or it would dampen their war effort significantly.

:$$:And where did you gain the knowledge of my desstination, there certainly was no owlss left for you to interrogate. :$$:

The serpent slithered out of it's cavern of cushions revealing gleaming scales in a aweworthy display of dark greens and black, coiling and raising it's head majestically, it's impressive emerald eyes glinting with wisdom. :$$:I'm a God I know everything.:$$:

…

…

The man remained unimpressed.

( He refrained from mentioning the sneak exploiting their bond once again to eavesdrop on his private musings and instead strengthened his occlumency barriers. One had to let one's pet believe they had some upper hand every now and again. He didn't want to deal with a despondent familiar, once had been far more than enough.)

Instead he indulged in a secret pleasure of his, a teasing glint glittered in his eye as his expression morphed into one of astonished surprise even iif his voice was heavy with sarcasm.

:$$: A God. Really? I could have sworn I just heard an eager pet puppy begging for a walk.:$$:

Had a snake been capable of blushing, the man didn't doubt the snake would be crimson in embarrassment.

:$$:You must have heard wrong:$$: the serpent-come-God denied waving it's tail dismissively. :$$:That was not me, ssome insssolent vermin must have ssnuck in. I'll have to hunt them down later.:$$:

Harry's lips twitched as he held his arm out to the self-proclaimed scaly God :$$:I see. In that case I must insist you do so as ssoon as we return, we cannot have sspiesss running around can we? :$$:

He bounced in excitement as his familiar slithered up his arm to settle under his cloak once again hidden from all eyes, it was an unusual behaviour for him but he couldn't help himself he had waited too long for this that the few seconds delay were almost too much for him. After over a century, it was finally time for a family reunion.

Leaving without giving those two his appreciation for his educational childhood, and giving his farewells would have just been bad form. He was raised better than that. A bloodthirsty smirk graced the mans lips as he grabbed a satchel and, without further ado, whirled around and melted into the shadows with a gleeful laugh.

"Happy Birthday to meeee!"

So my first chapter out! I still can't believe I'm publishing something! I had this story in my head for a long long timebut it usually starred years ahead timeline wise =-=" I'm a very chaotic writer, I think of interesting scenes without rhyme or reason and just jot down what haunts my mind. Actually coming to the start was a struggle! That I'm never satisfied didn't help my case either.

This was supposed to be published on the 31st fitting for Harry's birthday, buuuut as usual I'm a bit late, 1hour and 40min to be exact -3-Hopefully it's still the 31st somewhere in the world.

Please review and tell me what you think.

Please be gentle I'm a story virgin *blush*