Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works, like the anime Hellsing. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.
Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.
Note 1: AU.
Note 2: Harry's normal expression is that of deadpan, in case you've forgotten.
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Morsmordre
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chapter seven
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"You have your orders, move out!" Sirius ordered his troops, mostly dementors as the regular soldiers were off doing other missions and things.
Harry had just left Platform 9 3/4 with the rest of the Hogwarts bound students, and as per his orders Sirius was to begin the attack, launch the first strike against the enemy, against the forsaken and forgotten peoples of the world.
It wasn't difficult to track down the already trespassing people that were in the formerly unoccupied sectors of Hell's Gate. Afterall, Sirius had already been there. These people were the first wave, or so Sirius deigned to call them. They were rather proud of the fact that they could go anywhere they pleased, and had yet to be stopped or simply found out. All that stood in the way of their lifestype were put to death slowly and secretly, just as their own little world was kept hidden from the rest.
Sirius had sent out some scouts or feelers to the group, all that were returned were their naked bodies, stripped of all clothing as well as of all life. While their time in the mortal realm had ended, Sirius summoned them back up from hell, they were now vengeance demons, looking as they did in life, save for the horns that adorned their head, and their clawed left hands.
His forces closed in on the unsuspecting people, these dregs of society that had no hope of reintegrating themselves back into normal society after living in one of their own creation for so long. They believed that they were meant to be the norm, they were the chosen few. The ones whose place in the world was secure as there were always those that entered their number, joined with them, and some left only in death.
They believed that since the land was unoccupied then it is theirs for the taking, and even if the rightful owner comes to lay claim to it, or simply ask that they at least follow some rules, they refute him. They scorn him, and challenge him to its ownership. Going to far as threatening the owner with violence and or death. They also had the audacity to claim immortality as well as having an alliance with those they wished to quarrel with.
Their words would be their downfall, not that they would ever admit it, even in defeat. Even defeat they would not admit such a state, as there would still be more to come once they had fallen. Something which Sirius counted on.
"When in position, commence Operation Radical Extermination," Sirius said via his radio, he received affirmatives from the others on the signal.
The dementors were now considered as demons, and therefore to transcend into their dementor form was to transform into demons, living nightmares from the abyss. They would force their foes to cower in fear of the cold, and force them to experience the burning fires of hell. By their actions on two agents, these people would not be sent to the afterlife they wished to go to. They would be sent to Tristan Cruor's Seventh Circle, where the violent dwell for their eternities.
These people, these proud people, they huddled in the alleyways, the buildings, and the shadows. They lay in wait for another agent or two to stumble upon them, and for them to kill. No one was taking what they deemed as theirs. But they had awoken a sleeping dragon, and nothing was going to stop this one from killing them all.
Sirius transformed into his animagus form and charged into the streets, sniffing out the distinct smell of that one old man, the leader of the lot, the representative of his order. While the dementors circled above, like a mass of black clouds waiting to let loose the flood. Demons from hell called up for the mission lay in wait on the roof tops, places where these vagabonds dared not to rest.
Sirius found the man in a dead end, surrounded by children, his by the looks of things. He was teaching them their ways on how to subvert and eventually abolish the presently reigning society. Sirius pounced on the man, unexpectedly, then reverting in mid-air ending his brief flight by slamming into the man and forcing him to the ground.
"You," the old man stressed the word, one laced with hate, "Your agents are dead, how does it feel to have the blood of two men's lives on your hands?"
"I must thank you for that action," Sirius said, "For had you not had they killed, I would not have the excuse to excecute you."
"You kill me, and all of mine shall rise up against you and your master," the old man said, not a trace of fear in his eyes as he claimed such.
"Then so be it," Sirius said then messed around with the man's memories, "Kill your descendants for they have forsaken you!"
Similar to Harry's borrowed Jedi mind trick, Sirius' rearanging of the man's memory opened the doors leading to the man's fall into insanity, as well as believing that he had been betrayed by his brethren, for whom he had never really had or placed full trust in. There had already been that seed of doubt, that one day they would betray him.
Sirius let the man go, and for a moment watched as he slaughtered his kin, who knew that such an old man had such strength, it must have been due to the adrenaline rush and the crazed look in the old man's eyes.
"This is Padfoot, to all teams," Sirius said, "Forget my previous orders. I want you all to kill them. Kill them all."
"Yes, my lord," was heard over the radio, and Sirius knew that his men had already begun to end lives in the sector. They would allow one or two to escape, badly wounded, but would be able to remain alive for a few days without medical treatment. This way word would get out to the rest of their world.
When the act was nearing to a close, Sirius summoned his elves, the Black family elves who too had reverted to their more majestic and nobler forms.
"What is your wish of us, our master?" one elf asked him.
"Round up all the remaining interlopers, I want them in our cells by tomorrow night," Sirius ordered. He was sure that there were some that had escaped them, other than those that they had let go. There were also others not connected to this hidden world that had made their way into Hell's Gate. Sirius wanted all of them found, caught, and caged.
As Sirius returned to The Complex, he impatiently waited to hear news from Harry, who would be fighting with whomever was in charge of that tier in the afterlife.
#
In another plane of existence a winged form watched as his people suffered and died at the hands of demons. They had been mercilessly slaughtered by beings of another realm, beings that had broken some of the rules when it came to mortals. Direct contact was ill advised. The Ruler of Hell would pay the price as he always had whenever he went out of his way to influence events.
His name was Azaghal, he was an excecutioner of hell at one point in time, but had been elevated to a higher position for his acts of humility in his former region of control. He never boasted of his deeds to his fellow devils and demons, and simply went about his work never seeking any compliment or reward. For such actions he had been elevated after being kicked out of hell for his kindness. He had grown to look on favorably towards his worshippers, those that followed his example.
But from his humbler beginnings to his present station, something had happened to him, something had changed. From humble he gained pride, as he had been rewarded, formerly content with his station in life, he had gained an ego boost. He was one of the few to escape from the hellish afterlife and been sent to the In-Between. He was made a lord by the Almighties. He ruled and reigned, and watched over.
Now his people had been attacked, depraved of life, he needed to act, to exact vengeance of his own against the aggressors.
He would bring the Ruler of Hell into his domain and deal out the punishment for going against the ancient laws which he had agreed upon.
But what Azaghal didn't know was that the ruler he knew had been defeated and destroyed. He had believed himself above such petty affairs as knowing the goings on with the rest of existence. He had missed the fact that the he Demon Lord of the Nine Hells swore no oath to uphold such rules, such laws, such agreements. Harry did as he pleased. In his ignorance Azaghal would fall, and his station in life would revert to one not even worth mentioning.
He may be sovereign in his own realm, his own part of the free realms, his own part of the In-Between. But it wasn't like Harry cared at all about that. After all while being still mortal, he could afford to die once as he still had another life after he died.
He spread out his power in search of he who possessed the powers of hell itself, and found him in the most unlikely of places, a school of children.
"He has stooped too low this time.." Azaghal, a devil that had been risen to the status of fledgling angel formerly one of the fallen, said as he believed that his former boss was planning on corrupting the innocent.
As soon as he felt the ability to pull the ruler of hell over into his realm, he did, and was a little more than surprised to find who or what exactly he had pulled up. At first he believed that he had somehow made a mistake, then decided to change his opinion upon thinking that perhaps the child had been possessed.
"In the name of the Almighties! I command you Satan to leave this innocent child!" Azaghal demanded.
"Leave? This child? Leave who? How? You?" Harry asked, finding that his latest foe was this ignorant of the changes in the worlds.
"You know perfectly well what I am talking about," Azaghal said.
"Leave?" Harry said, "I would leave this plane of existence, if it weren't for the fact that I am here to conquer. You will be the first stepping stone for me."
"Have you gone mad?! This is my domain, your power is halved here, and you dare to threaten me?"
"It is yours now," Harry said, "But I shall claim it as my own, over your dead body."
"How do you plan to do that? I am as immortal as you are, how do you intend to end me?"
"If what you say is true..then let me ask you," Harry said, "Do you fear death?"
"How can I fear something which will never happen to me," Azaghal said arrogantly, "As I said I am as immortal as you are, so how can I fear death?"
"Thanks to your ignorance you will die," Harry said, "Even with my hellish power halved in this realm, so has your power been halved. My men have wiped out a sizeable chunk of your poeple, having been given that part of the world as their base of operations. Without those believers, their prayers, their faith, you have lost a lot of power."
"Are you seriously threatening me? HA! You make me laugh, I never took you for a jester," Azaghal said mockingly, "Even if you were at full power, you would not be able to kill me. For only a mortal would have such power as to fight with a mortal I would have to even the playing field a little bit, by turning myself mortal."
"By your own words I shall kill you," Harry stated, "As you claim that you are as immortal as I. Your ignorance shall be your downfall. Now – Have at YOU!"
From the spot where he stood, Harry charged the angel, the lord of the realm. Azaghal wore armor from head to toe, the only uncovered part being his wings. He had a flaming sword appear in his hand to block a lance of pure death which Harry brought down on his foe's defenses.
"A lance of pure death? Are you insane! I am no mere mortal! Such tricks will not be the death of me!"
"A mere lance you say," Harry said his weapon of choice still bearing its weight down on the former fallen angel, "If one is not to your liking, then maybe a whole host more!"
As Harry had finally been pushed back by Azaghal, he transformed into his Demon Lord form, his aura and magics exploded outwards and around him. He brought the full might of his mortal power to bear against one who claimed to be as immortal as he.
His five flames formed lances and lances and a whole host of other weapons. His invisible flames, those innate to all mortals, the flames brought forth the power of oblivion for that was the death that they could provide. Unseen and unheard, save for the weapons they formed.
Next up were his blue flames, whose deadly power was that of exhaustion. The power to enhance one's strengths also had the power to weaken, too much of anything is bad, and Harry brought out the extremes of weakensses in his blue flames.
Muddy brown the color of dried blood was the next flame to form implements of pain and suffering. While there were a few lances in the mix, most of the weapons formed were geared towards sealing movement. Chains, shackles, ropes, wires, and whips, the tools of torture, and other such things. Their death was one of pain agony, then silence. A death of much blood and gore, while at the same time of zero movement, like a statue bound by time, the pain wracked the body and mind, but there were no screams of pain, or shouts of horror, only silence.
Crimson flames followed dried red-brown, the flames of torture, of agony, suffering, and insanity. Mournful cries of the tortured souls of the abyss, pain, hurt, sorrow, anguish, despair. No earthly, mortal, or immortal torture would compare to the burning sensations in one's blood, boiling to the fore of one's being. Nothing would compare to the lunacy that was brought about by a pin prick of such flames. As one dies burning, in the midst of a bonfire one screams out til the flames take ones ability to scream away, yet even such screams can still be heard. Death by crimson flame was a noisy one, one where silence did not reign, one were the ability to scream is never taken.
Lastly, the flames of betrayal, the emerald flames of pure death. The all encompassing power of the end of life itself. The opposite, the alternate, the foe, the enemy, the mirror image, the everything which life is not. The power of pure death, the end. Death.
One would think that Azaghal would have realizaed his folly, and kneeled before the might and power of one greater than even he. One whose immortality was not yet whole, had yet to be claimed. How would Harry kill Azaghal? By his ignorance, for how else would one kill one that would boast of a no longer existing immortality.
"Such fancy powers you display," Azaghal commented upon seeing the flames, "What power of hell is this? I have not seem such in our previous enconters O Ruler of Hell."
"Of course you haven't," Harry stated, "We have never encountered each other before."
"What foolish lies you spout! We have met countless time in the past, for transgressions far lesser than your most recent ones," Azaghal boomed out, insulted.
"Ingnorance may be bliss, but in your case..well..its just pathetic," Harry said, then launched his weapons without warning, scewering the Lord of the First Realm of the journey towards salvation.
"w-what..manner of tr-trickery is this..?" Azaghal barely whispered out, after coughing out some blood a few times, "h-how..how was it..possible..? I am..I..I am immortal..as..immortal as you are.."
Harry walked up to him, the flames powering down, and leaving, returning to the core of his being. But leaving him one sword, one sword of bone and blood, one lance of betrayal, one tool through which his wisdom and power would flow. One final act to end the rule of Azaghal.
"I am Harry Potter, Demon Lord of the Nine Hells," while he had already been in Demon Lord form, he had not accessed his hellish powers which was why his voice hadn't changed along with his body, but now he accessed the bare minimum to claim the spoils of his battle with this lord, "I overthrew the previous ruler of hell, and now I shall replace..you."
"You..! You..can't...I was appointed...I was appointed by the Almighties themselves...your word is meaningless here," Azaghal said defiantly, even though he could feel his very immortality slip.
"Just as your faithful condemened their brethren, so have you condemened yours," Harry said, referrin to what the old man had claimed about demons being their downfall, and the declaration of the acceptance of a challenge between the Lords of the In-Between and Harry Potter.
"Go..ahead," Azaghal whispered defiantly as in his weakened state it was all he could do, "I shall not fall...I shall live...I shall heal...and I shall...smite you...in the names...of the Almighties.."
Harry merely laughed at him, and his continued ignorance of the ways of existence and in his own mortality.
"You are as mortal as I," Harry declared, "For I have taken the spot of an Almighty ruler of Hell, while still remaining mortal myself. Therefore, as I deal the final blow, all of yours becomes mine at lasst."
"You lie!" Azaghal exclaimed with sudden strength born out of disbelief even in such a state, "I am as immortal as you!"
"I have yet to access my immortality! How then can you claim to be immortal as I am not! The rules of challenge between mortal and immortal forces the immortal to become mortal himself," Harry said, "I am aware of these rules as they were stated and told to me by the former Lord of Hell, as he believed that a little bit of fair play was in order. I obliged him, and killed him. But as for you...I shall send you back to hell where you belong."
He then plunged his sword through Azaghel's heart and soul, sent him back to hell where he truly belonged.
"Treat your brother kindly as he return to hell. He has tested by Cruentus Lacrima, and been found wanting," Harry said, his sword having the name Cruentus Lacrima meaning bloody tears. He was speaking directly into the Gates of Hell themselves. Twenty-seven in total were the main gates, permanently welcoming new arrivals and returnees.
Scewered was the manner by which his link to the hellish after life was returned, therefore scewered was he upon his reentry into the burning pits of the abyss. Remnants of the former hell which existed before Harry's reign. As Hell was a plane, a realm, a world, an existence all its own, made up of the different forms of the alternate, the mirror image, the opposite, the other end of the spectrum compared to Heaven, Paradise, Nirvana, and all the rest. The ancient pits of the abyss created and formed by the former ruler, still existed, but the main Hell, had become the Nine Hells. As Harry was now the ruler, the Almighty power of such a plane, his Nine Hells were akin to the capital of a country.
Upon entering the gates, Azaghal was met with the spears of the Barbariccia, lesser demons who guarded the gates and welcomed Hells new and old residents.
"You had fooled us with your humility. Mocked us with your easy forgiveness. You were kicked out, and adopted by they who turned their backs on us," the lead demon spoke as his fellows continued an unending line of torture for the welcomed back demonic soul, "We shall pay you back for all we had lost all those hundreds of thousands of existances ago," he then turned to his fellows those that were waiting for their turn, "Do as you will with him, as he did with me."
"Your will be done, Master Excecutioner," the other demons stated.
One time, a long time ago, when the world was new, and creation had just been redone. Azaghal punished a deserter, one that had been framed by the Almighties themselves. They had painted him a spy into their realms as they sent several real spies into the depths of hell to keep watch over their brother in the pits of despair. Azaghal had torn his immortal existance to shreds, before putting it all back together again, and repeating the process til he tired of the practice. Azaghal had no love for betrayal, back then he was as merciless as could be. But then something changed within him. Not that it matters anymore.
The one he had so mercilessly punished and shattered, had taken over his position when he himself had been banished from the abyss.
"Why? Why do you hurt me so, my brethren of old?" Azaghal asked as he was chained to a burning wall, and pierced endlessly, "Am I not one of you? One of yours? I had changed in the other, I had reverted back to what I once was. I turned away those that did not deserve to cross through my realm."
"Why? Why you ask? Ignorant fool," Mendum, Master Excecutioner of Hell, said. He was different in appearance to those winged purplish Barbariccia with spears as their assigned weapons. Horns on their head, and red eyes. He was more humanoid than that, the higher a demon was in their heirarchy, the closer to being human they looked. If the governors of the nine circles of hell were anything to go by.
He was blond haired and blue eyed, but wore purple to make sure all that saw him, knew from where his beginnings began.
"Why?" Azaghal asked again.
"He seems to be getting used to the pain," Mendum said, then ordered his compaions to deal more damage, then answered the question, "For you were a fool to challenge our Lord and Master. He will take the mortal world first, or rather he already has conquered it. He took hell from our former master, ruler for existences uncountable by even time. Now his sights are set on the In-Between, and you were foolish enough to accept his challenge."
"But I have returned.."
"By his will have you returned, not by your own, for had he wished, you would, like our former master, cease to exist" Mendum said, "There are fates worse than death. Enjoy this one."
