Birth of a Nightmare Man

Summary: Prequel to The Nightmare Man. How did Harry Potter become a feared lord of ancient times? Here we'll see the start of it.

Pairing/s: None.

Warnings: Violence, gore, evil!Harry and Twisted!Harry. Seriously, for quite a bit he's not friendly at all with humans. Be warned.

Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter nor do I make any money writing this or any other fanfiction.

-o-

Oh my god, I actually killed George. For those you cried at that, don't worry that I'm a heartless soul; I couldn't stop crying either.

With that out of the way; read and enjoy this chapter!

Violence is described, but not graphic.

-o-

Chapter Seven

Aberdeen wasn't exactly quiet but it was late at night, and most of the city's inhabitants were indoors so it was definitely calmer than usual. Few took notice of the plummeting temperature, although many felt uneasy for no obvious reason. They felt… well, almost watched.

Had they looked out, they wouldn't have seen anything that would help them figure out why they were so uneasy. But somewhere in that city moved creatures that would've driven them insane, and somewhere was a small number of strange people in ragged robes, and wands.

As the people of Aberdeen remained ignorant to the growing number of Dementors invading their city, prisoners of Azkaban were getting ready to have some fun.

Frost began to appear on windows. As Dementors moved into houses and flats, buildings of all kind, Muggles could hear them breathing. Panic ensued, panic of not seeing their attackers, panic at feeling the cold, panic at invisible hands grabbing their shoulders and then… nothing. Just screams as people began to fall, eyes open, still breathing but irretrievably gone.

People spilled out from their houses, their flats, running into the street only to meet with more cold, and then the people in ragged robes with light coming out of their wands. The streets of Aberdeen were filled with screams and laughter, the sounds of people falling, fire rising towards the sky as buildings were set alight.

Within minutes, Aberdeen was thrown into chaos, and carnage.

-o-

Harry moved through the burning city, listening to the screams of the Muggles as they died, one by one, glancing down at his hands at some point. They were covered in blood. Correction; he was covered in blood. That didn't matter. It wasn't as if he hated these particular Muggles. They were just a part of his message to the Light side, and therefore, of no importance other than to serve as a reminder that darkness would always be there.

The streets were filling up with people, empty shells of people that the Dementors left behind, living corpses. Harry watched them, prodded at one arm just to see if the body gave a reaction. Nothing. The people still lived, but what kind of life was that? He wondered briefly what really happened to the souls. He knew they were lost, those souls that the Dementors took but in what way? Did the Dementors consume souls like food or did the souls go somewhere else? Maybe he should ask. Right now he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. But he should ask at some point.

He was taken out of his own head when he spotted movement that weren't the prisoners, or a Dementor, or fire. It was a girl. A tiny little girl in a white nightgown, blood spatter across her face, mixing with her tears. Harry watched her come closer. The Ministry would be coming soon, he was sure of that, and with it the Order would also follow. The bodies were message enough, but he wanted something extra… something that really pointed at Albus Dumbledore to make the old man uncomfortable, or feel like a target.

So with a few swipes of his wand he scrubbed himself clean of blood, more or less, before putting both wands away and kneeling down. He wasn't sure if it would work but the girl was distressed enough to find his embrace comforting. She sobbed into his shoulder and he made a few shushing noises, stroke her trembling back and then conjured a blanket, wrapping it around her. He then stood up and took her hand, walking her over to the shelter of a shop. She was still crying, stumbling behind him. Her hand was clammy, uncomfortable, but he still held on.

Logically Harry knew he should feel sympathy for her. She was just a child, an innocent child who had done nothing wrong to anyone. But he couldn't. He didn't know how to. No one ever comforted him when he was a child. That shushing thing he had seen in the few movies aunt Petunia had allowed him to see on the telly. He wasn't sure if it was for real, or if it was just a movie trick but it had worked on her so he assumed it had some basis in reality.

"Hey," he said, and she slowly focused on him. "Can you do something for me?"

"M-mum… and dad… they're… they fell… a-and didn't… get up. Are they d-dead?"

"Yes, they're dead, they won't ever come back," Harry said. "But in a while, men and women in long robes will come here and make you forget all this. However, I won't let them make you forget until you tell them something. Until you give them a message, alright?"

"A message?" she managed.

Magic worked around him, then around her, made sure she couldn't be Obliviated until she told Albus Dumbledore the message he wanted the old man to hear. Harry smiled as he saw the magic take root, how she stiffened at first and then nodded.

"I will. What m-message?"

"Albus Dumbledore, you and your Order asked for a dark lord. You have now received one. Can you remember to say that, in that exact order?"

She nodded. He smiled wider, wasn't sure if it was a nice one but she smiled back so it couldn't be all that bad. He wiped away some of her tears, smearing the blood in the process. Maybe it was her parents' blood.

"Stay here, on this spot, and the men and women in long robes should be here soon."

"O-okay."

"Good girl."

He rose up and left her shivering at the steps of the shop, calling the Dementors to him again, telling them to notify the prisoners that the Ministry would be coming shortly but he asked one to bring Rabastan to him. Said and done, one appeared soon enough with Rabastan in tow who waved himself loose from the Dementor's grip and exclaimed:

"Oi, I wasn't done!"

"I reckon Aurors will be here soon. You want back to Azkaban already?"

"What? No! Alright, we'll go. The others?"

"They've been notified but I like you so I thought to tell you personally."

"Oh, alright. Thanks, Potter. By the way, do you know somewhere safe where I can hole up for the time being?"

"I have a house. There are guest rooms."

"You sure?"

"What, are you scared of me?"

The sounds of people Apparating in reached them. They both heard people shout out orders, and Harry recognized some of the voices as Order members. They wouldn't die tonight. Perhaps another night. He turned back to Rabastan, waited for his answer, which he soon got:

"Well, not really. I just took your for a more private person and besides, that house was Weasley's too, right? He just died so won't I be… I don't know, intruding?"

"Does Death Eaters know the meaning of that word?"

"Some of us are slightly more civilized than the rest, thank you very much."

"You never struck me as civilized," Harry confessed.

"I know; it's all part of my plan of making people underestimate me. Seriously, I won't be intruding?"

"George won't mind."

"Course he won't, he's dead."

"He wouldn't have minded even if he lived. But then again, if he was alive I probably wouldn't be doing this."

"Hey, we all got our breaking point. Sorry yours had to be that extreme. Shall we get going?" Rabastan said. "Cold night like this and so many broken walls at Azkaban, I'm sure to get sick if I end up there again."

"Azkaban breeds sickness, not just in body but also in the mind," Harry said.

"Nice way of saying we're all crazy."

"I do include myself, if that makes you feel any better." Harry grabbed Rabastan's arm before looking at the Dementors. "You know where to go."

Then he Apparated.

-o-

Albus had not seen such destruction in some years as the one he was seeing now in Aberdeen. So many buildings had been set on fire and bodies littered the streets.

Worse news came when they realized many bodies were victims of the Dementor's Kiss and Aurors were sent to Azkaban only to find the prison abandoned, the prisoners gone and all Aurors dead along with one Molly Weasley.

By then Albus knew who had done it. He was certain of it. The same day he kills George Weasley by accident, Harry Potter witnessing it, and this happens? Harry Potter was behind it all, as hard as it was to believe.

For months now he had believed Harry Potter was dead, only to discover he, Albus Dumbledore, had been wrong. The shock had given way to calculations but by the time he started thinking of a way to convince Harry he hadn't meant to hurt him or George, Harry had Apparated out of Diagon Alley, bringing the dying George with him. It shouldn't have been possible. Not even Voldemort had been that strong to break through the wards that surrounded Diagon Alley.

This destruction fit Voldemort's style more but Harry Potter had shown them, shown Albus, that he was not the same person they put into Azkaban. He went in as an innocent teenager and came out as a dark man.

Albus was not to blame; he couldn't even imagine that someone would ever think he was responsible for Harry's state of mind when the young man was released from prison. Everything Albus had done, he had done for the greater good. That would never change. He had always believed that, and he wasn't wrong to have locked Harry up in Azkaban. The boy had been too strong for his own good and with his background at the Dursleys, too easily swayed to the darker side of humanity. Albus had needed time for Harry to settle down, become weak, so he could control the teenager for the rest of his life.

Instead Harry came out stronger than ever, and somehow with the Dementors on his side. What did he promise them? Carnage and as many people as they wanted to feast upon?

The Ministry had noted that five other villages had been attacked, one with a mixed population of Muggles and magical people. The magical signature left behind confirmed Harry Potter had been the attacker there as well. Here in Aberdeen the magical signatures were mixed up but Harry's would be there somewhere.

"Albus!"

Amelia Bones herself was there, and her glare didn't bode well now. Albus still turned to her, ever the gentle and kind grandfatherly figure, and was followed by the other Order members.

"Yes, Minister?" he said.

"This Muggle girl has a message for you," she said, pointing at a young girl, clearly traumatized what she had seen.

"You have not Oblivated the poor girl yet? Minister, surely that is not good conduct, the girl clearly needs to forget this awful night."

"Don't blame me. We can't Obliviate her. Magic prevents us from doing that. She has to speak her message before anyone can make her forget the fact her parents were ripped apart in front of her," Amelia said rather frostily in response.

Albus approached them both, Amelia with her rigid posture and the girl, looking no older than eight years old.

"Yes, child? What do you need to say?" he said to her kindly. Was the message specifically to him, or had Amelia already heard it?

The girl looked at him, and magic seized her, made her go stiff in front of them. They all felt it, the darkness of it and her mouth opened by its own accord and she spoke mechanically:

"Albus Dumbledore, you and your Order asked for a dark lord. You have now received one."

Everyone froze around her. The girl sniffed as her limbs relaxed, two fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Who told you that?" Albus said.

"He had a scar. It looked like a lightning bolt," the girl said, pointing a shaking finger at her own forehead.

"Was he alone? Did you feel any strange temperature differences around him? Was there men and women in robes with him?"

"Albus, that's enough, she's said her message…"

"You don't want more information from her?" Albus said, glaring at Amelia. "The girl could hold something important that would help us find him!"

Find Harry Potter, and control him. Or kill him. Either way was fine with Albus right now. That message was a taunt, a taunt towards him! Ridiculous!

"His eyes…" the girl said and they focused on her again. "They were dead."

"How do you mean?" Amelia said, her tone soft and gentle.

"He looked like my dad did, when my uncle died. Like he couldn't decide… whether to scream, or to cry. Why did the man look so sad?"

"That's enough, get her out of here. Get her to safety."

"He looked so sad…" the girl kept repeating as an Auror picked her up. The tiny hands gripped the robes, shaking slightly.

Once the girl was gone Amelia turned to Albus. None of that gentleness remained in her face; she was a stone-cold mask.

"I heard George Weasley was attacked at Diagon Alley today," she said. "You mind telling me about that?"

"I assure you, Minister, we only had our world's best interest in mind…"

"By doing what? Killing Harry Potter and his friend?"

"No, it was…" But it hadn't been Voldemort. Should he still say it was Voldemort? But no, she hadn't believed him before…

Amelia didn't give him a chance to formulate an appropriate answer.

"From the witnesses' reports we are certain that spell killed George Weasley. They saw someone greatly resembling you cast it. You killed George in front of Harry Potter. That must have been the last straw for the poor boy you've tortured for so many years."

"Tortured?" Albus said, alarmed.

"Oh, he told me. How you forced him to return to his abusive relatives year after year, how he begged for someone to save him," she said, stepping into Albus' space, eyes boring holes into him. "This destruction is on you and that bloody Order of yours, Albus! You broke Harry Potter already as a child, and now… what is he now? A dark lord by your creation. Some say you created Voldemort too. You wish to be remembered to have defeated three dark lords? One wasn't enough? Two wasn't enough?! Fool!"

She walked away before he could say anything. Albus was too shocked for a moment to speak. Amelia Bones had never been shy or timid but to speak such outrageous words to him, the great Albus Dumbledore…!

"We'll find Harry Potter," Shacklebolt said behind Dumbledore. "We'll end this."

"Something must still be wrong with him," Arthur said. "To kill so many people… and Molly. My sweet Molly…"

"Yes, we'll stop him. The poor child," Albus said absently, calculating how to kill Harry Potter quickly before he could come up with more damage about the Order.

During all this Albus stared at the destruction of Aberdeen and was completely convinced his earlier actions had not done this, had not made Harry Potter into the monster he was now. All he did was for the greater good; all was done for the greater good.

-o-

Harry wasn't that surprised when Rabastan came out of the house.

"You're burying him in the middle of the night?" Rabastan asked, glancing at George's still face. The blood was gone and George had been dressed in a new robe to hide the injuries to his body.

"I'd rather do it now," Harry said. "I like nights. Or rather, I like the dark. Grew up in a cupboard, so darkness was the thing I was surrounded with the most."

"Cupboard?"

"Muggles," he said, not explaining any further. "I don't have a coffin."

"Do you usually have that?" Rabastan asked.

"Well… I've only heard of funerals, I've never been to one," Harry confessed. "My parents died and got buried I guess but I don't know how, I just saw their grave once. My godfather didn't even leave a body behind."

"Yeah, Bellatrix kind of pushed him into a veil of death," Rabastan said.

"Yeah. I don't like her for that."

"She was a hard woman to like from the start. Now, I'm not making excuses for my behaviour, I'm not an easy person to like but she took it to a whole new level."

"Did your brother love her?"

"Nah, it was an arranged marriage. He didn't really care."

"Lots of things that doesn't make sense. I'll skip the coffin. Maybe I should bury him next to Fred. Only I don't know where Fred's buried."

"Or you could steal Fred's body and take it here," Rabastan said.

"That would be… grave-robbing," Harry said.

"Potter, how many people have you killed today?"

"Um, quite a lot I guess."

"Grave-robbing won't be anything in comparison to that."

Harry considered this. He didn't really want to put George's body in a graveyard. He wanted George's body to be here, near the house.

"Okay. I'll go find Fred's grave and bury him next to George."

His own words should have scared him, would have scared him if he was seventeen. But now he wasn't. The Harry Potter who grew up in a dark cupboard and wanted peace for the world was gone, buried deep inside his mind. The new Harry Potter didn't particularly care about the world. It held no meaning to him.

Rabastan helped him put George's body down into the hole once it was deep enough and then cover it up. Harry thought the tears would come at any minute but although his eyes burned, nothing came out.

"You need a minute alone?" Rabastan asked, which was kind of funny because they were surrounded by Dementors and had been from the start.

"You should rest," was all Harry said. "Azkaban takes its toll on everyone."

"Yeah. It does."

If Rabastan looked at Harry while he said it, Harry didn't know. He heard the man leave, go back into the house and then he kneeled down next to the fresh earth. He put a hand on it, felt the damp and stayed there for a while. He thought of the things they had done since he got out. Every laugh and smile. There had been so many.

"I hope you and Fred are having a good laugh and catching up," Harry said at last. "I don't think I'll be laughing that same way for a while."

If he ever would again.

-o-

The next day Harry fully realized what he had done, as he lay in bed trying to rest. He had killed people. Muggles, wizards and witches alike. He had unleashed dozens of dangerous wizards and witches from Azkaban and taken all the Dementors with him. Rabastan Lestrange was sleeping in a guest bedroom for Merlin's sake!

But his main concern was that he was hungry.

"There's something wrong with me," he told one Dementor. It tilted its head at him. "I'm not joking. There is something seriously wrong with me, and I want eggs."

He sat up. The dizziness attacked him, smacked his head and he fell back down again, moaning.

"I used up a lot of magic yesterday," he said, flapping an arm over his eyes. "Someone, make eggs for me? Something?"

Another Dementor snuck out of the room and Harry rolled over to his stomach. He grabbed one of the wands, then both and pulled them close as if that would give his energy back quicker. He swore he could hear them hum.

The Dementor came back after a while, with Rabastan in tow. He had showered, and found or conjured new robes.

"It didn't try to scare you, right? They have a fondness for that," Harry said. "Especially with George since he doesn't… didn't… like it."

"Well, it pushed me into the kitchen and seemed to be in a panic so I… cooked?"

"You can cook?"

"I lived with Bellatrix Lestrange and my brother; either I cooked, or I died by their poison. Here, toast and eggs, sausages as well. You need to go shopping. You don't have any house-elves?"

"No. At first I thought George had, but it turned out to be just him liking to yell things out loud. We never saw the point of getting any, when we could take care of ourselves."

"Yes, well, you need to go shopping now."

"It wasn't very high on my list yesterday."

Harry sat up, slower this time and Rabastan sat down on the bed, putting a tray down with two plates. Harry put the wands to the side, still close but leaving his hands free.

"I can't believe it's only been a day since George died," he continued. "It feels longer."

"The first night back in Azkaban," Rabastan said, "knowing my brother was dead… that was a long night. It never really goes away, but you learn to live with it."

"How?"

"Every person's different. I focused on remembering the good moments."

"Your brother had good moments?"

"Well, what I considered to be good moments. I can't say he was very sane or very kind," Rabastan admitted.

"Some would say the same about you," Harry pointed out.

"I can't say they would be lying, but my second stay in Azkaban probably improved my mental health."

"Really? How so?"

"That's because you were there and made the Dementors nicer. You liked me and since they like you, they were friendlier towards me."

Harry only nodded. He ate everything on his plate using his fingers only and once he was done the dizziness was gone, replaced by a heaviness that bordered on terrifying. He blinked blearily and began to list to one side, ending up leaning against the wall, too tired to even flop down on the bed.

"Can you tell them not to kill me for touching you?" Rabastan said. "Please? Potter?"

"Don't kill him," Harry muttered at a Dementor. "Alright?"

It fidgeted and then nodded. Rabastan took a hold of his shoulders and helped him lay down, pulling at him until he was in a more comfortable position. The wands remained with him.

"You need to rest. Sleep is good," Rabastan said.

"I need to kill the Order."

"Well, that can wait another day. Then I'll help you plan."

"You want that?"

"Potter, I'm a Death Eater. We're not exactly known for knitting scarves for poor orphans."

His words made Harry laugh until he passed out.

-o-

The magical world in the United Kingdom was in shock after realizing their hero, Harry James Potter, was responsible for the massive break-out at Azkaban, as well as the destruction of five villages and partially Aberdeen in Scotland.

Parents wrote to Albus, crying out that the young man couldn't have access to Hogwarts now could he? Were their children safe? What was Harry Potter going to do now? What would Albus do to protect their children from Harry Potter? Why hadn't he done something already?! The headmaster was getting a headache.

Not only that but Amelia Bones were on him too, but in a completely different light; she didn't trust him, and she blamed him for how Harry had turned out! Of course she would have Harry arrested if they apprehended the man but she would make damn sure that Albus Dumbledore couldn't do what he wanted.

Like killing Harry. The Order was banned from helping, the Minister stating they did more harm than good nowadays and that was what made Albus furious. They completely threw aside all the good things the Order had done during the last two wars, everyone who had sacrificed their lives for the sake of peace for the entire magical world.

Albus wasn't about to idly sit at the side and let it all happen. He would first make sure Harry Potter could not get onto the Hogwarts grounds, to protect the children of course, but then he would go after the young man.

Harry Potter could not be allowed to live.

More letters poured in and he felt like he was choking on them. The headmasters of old gazed down at him, not saying anything to help, only whispering to each other and laughing quietly. They apparently found his situation funny to witness.

Albus left his office for a moment and gathered the professors and of course, loyal Hagrid. He scheduled a day where they would improve on Hogwarts' wards to prevent Harry Potter from entering. Most of them expressed their disbelief that Harry had turned out to be so similar to Voldemort. Albus only agreed and stressed how important it was to quickly capture him again. He did not share with them his desire to just do away with the boy.

-o-

In the meantime, Harry went shopping. In Muggle London. In Muggle London he was a nobody amongst others, and could therefore shop in peace. He felt oddly light, and on several occasions he had to stop himself from humming. He had just lost his best friend and now he was humming whilst shopping?

He had truly gone insane. One Dementor trailed after him, making Muggles feel uncomfortable and cold. Harry took his time getting the food, and then went back to the house.

Rabastan had meanwhile must have gone out as he sat at the table with four new wands when Harry came into the kitchen.

"I'm guessing you didn't buy those," Harry said.

"No, I didn't. I don't know, it's hard to get one by chancing," he said as he checked each one. "Maybe I'll get a brand new one in Knockturn Alley. Or I'll go out of the country; I know places where they care less who you are and more that you can pay for what you ask for."

"So, as long as you have money, you're fine to them?"

"Exactly. The Dark Lord got a lot of shopping done out of the country, although he always preferred United Kingdom."

Harry put down the bags. "Voldemort, shopping? Wow; that's an image I never thought I'd have in my head. Why do I picture him with these nature-friendly canvas bags, fighting housewives for the last cereal box?"

"Because you have a sick mind, Potter. Yes, this one. This will do."

"What are you going to do with the rest of the wands?" Harry wondered.

"Throw 'em away?"

"Can I have them?"

Rabastan looked at Harry but he only smiled even as two Dementors hovered behind him.

"I can't take you seriously with that smile or those Dementors behind you."

"What?" Harry turned around. "What's so special about them?"

"They remind me of puppies. Not their looks, but their eagerness to follow you everywhere."

"Really? Can I still have the wands?"

"Sure, if you insist." Rabastan pushed them across the table and dragged a bag close. "What's all this?"

"Food?"

"What are these packages?"

"Food," Harry repeated.

"But…" Rabastan pulled out one. "What?"

"Oh, it's Muggle-made," he said. "Perfectly alright."

"Muggles put their food in packages like this?" Rabastan wanted to know. "Why?"

"Well, that's a can. It means the food will hold a while. Couple of years I think."

"A can? What's it made of?"

"Aluminium, I think. Don't ask me. My aunt hated cans. Said it wasn't good enough for her Dudders."

"Her what?" Rabastan said.

"Son. Dudley, she called him Dudders." Harry looked at the other bags. "I always had to do the shopping."

"Bringing up bad memories?"

"No, not really… I just really want to fry him. Dudley. Alive, preferably."

"Alright, that sounds fine. How do we open these… cans?"

"Oh, I bought the tool for that, don't worry."

Harry packed the food away and Rabastan helped. It was a comfortable silence they had shared many times during their time in Azkaban, complete with a Dementor or two hovering nearby. Rabastan was fascinated watching Harry open one of the cans, and insisted on tasting the food.

"It's fine," he said. "But still, why these?"

"As I said, it holds longer. Muggles like to stack up."

As they ate, Harry pulled out a parchment and began penning down names.

"What's that?"

"A list of people I want to kill," Harry replied.

"What, you need a list for that?"

"Oh, I'm just writing those who I really, really want to kill."

"Okay. You still need a list for that?"

"It's satisfying."

"Oh…" Rabastan glanced over. "That's a long list already."

"I have a lot of people I want to kill," Harry pointed out. "I'm evil now."

"Yeah, you are. Who should we start with?"

Tbc…


The first step has been taken by Harry to lead him into insanity. For those who question why George had to die, I will tell you this; his death is playing a rather crucial part in Harry becoming a man of nightmares in future chapters.

Chapter eight: The killing starts. Can anyone stop Harry?

Until later,

Tiro