Heart of Phobos, Spirit of Deimos

Disclaimer/Plot/Challenge Information/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER

Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to my faithful fans, who continue to support and enjoy my work: my recommended reads are Dark Lord Potter, Damaged Raven and Apex by JustBored21, Lord of Caer Azkaban by Rorschach's Blot, Earl of the North and Delenda Est by Lord Silvere, Eldritch Blood, Yield to the Darkness, On the Delights of Drinking Blood and Lord of the Red Land by Quatermass, Never Cross a Potter by Kourtney Uzu Yato, Dark Prince Rises by Ronin216, The Boy With No Name by DarkQuartz, True Prisoner of Azkaban by Kage James, Do Not Meddle In The Affairs Of Wizards by Corwalch and Birth of a Nightmare Man, The Nightmare Man and The Nightmare Man's Journey by Tiro

Key Pairing: Harry/Bellatrix

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

'Mind Speech'

/Parseltongue/

Review Answers:

Guest: Who says the Peverells have anything to do with it? Certainly not me;

As the last of his darkened power reassembled into his more-humane appearance, fifteen-year-old Harry James Potter smiled coldly before running his hand over his abdomen, which, through some newfound ability of his, seemed to have become well-toned and even athletic in appearance.

At that particular moment, however, Harry was only concerned with one thing.

"Thank you for the meal, gentlemen: I can't remember the last time I fed so well."

Chapter 2: Father of Nightmares

Of all the things Harry had been expecting when the Dementors came after him, it was safe to say that finding himself in Azkaban Prison, capable of devouring humans alive, and then having the aforementioned soul-suckers bowing down to him was not on that shortlist.

So, when the Dementor's voice called him Father, Harry was, understandably, surprised, but not as alarmed as he thought he might have been, which surprised him more than being called Father. Even so, as the pale-skinned teenager looked to the dark hood of the Dementor, he felt a flicker of amusement, if not satisfaction coursing through his veins as, even with his surprise, he realised that the Dementor feared him.

'And so they should,' thought Harry, folding his arms as he looked to the Dementor before he asked, "You're not going to harm me, are you?"

'We cannot harm Father,' replied the Dementor's voice, earning a raised eyebrow from Harry, while the Dementor pressed on. 'It is forbidden: Father is off-limits. We cannot harm Father, endanger Father or betray Father.'

"And yet you've done all three to me," argued Harry, earning a low, distorted growl of a sound from the Dementor, though, as he had done before, Harry heard more than that from this soul sucking demon.

'We did not realise that Father was the one chosen to be Father; but Father's power. Father's dominance over all us Soul Stealers and Flesh Eaters. These things are known to Us; we have known Father was destined to become Father ever since Father's power banished us, forcing us to flee in fear. A feeling We of the Horde have not felt in many a cycle; but We feel it now. And we knew Father needed us to awaken Him, to bless Him with the power that is rightfully His. And now, Father is reborn…and the Horde rejoices, as do the Flesh Eaters that linger in the Pits.'

'Flesh Eaters certainly explains how I can eat people, and yet, I don't seem to care,' mused Harry, walking towards the Dementor, who shrank back again, even as Harry continued riding his train of thought. 'And, if Dementors are members of this Horde that this Dementor is talking about, then that means Flesh Eaters must be…oh, what was their name? I remember Granger and Remus telling me about them…something about…folding?'

As Harry brooded on his thoughts, he leaned against the cold wall of Azkaban Prison for several minutes; curiously, despite the frigid temperatures of the prison, especially the walls and in the presence of the Dementors, Harry didn't feel the cold at all. Nor was he intimidated by the despair-inducing aura that he'd felt so often before around the Dementors.

Instead, if he had to compare what he felt to anything else, Harry would have compared the aura that he could feel emanating from the Dementor as the feel of a loyal pet sitting faithfully at its master's heels.

'Or Father in this case,' thought Harry, still brooding over the name he couldn't quite remember.

However, a few seconds later, Harry's eyes snapped open as he nodded, "Lethifolds, that's it! Like Dementors, but twice as merciless, ruthless and, nine times out of ten, being consumed by their ghostly folds leaves nothing, not even drops of blood or bone…so, I have this same power, but in a different, stronger form than them, do I? That's interesting."

'Father?'

Looking up from his musings, Harry saw the Dementor that'd spoken with him watching him with a hint of curiosity, which couldn't be seen because of the hood over its face, but, thanks to whatever new power had been given to him, Harry could feel it.

In fact, now he seemed to be fully-rejuvenated thanks to his feast of human flesh – and more, judging by the spiritual, mystical strength he could also feel emanating from deep inside his stomach, which made Harry wonder if he'd eaten the Aurors' souls as well as their flesh and blood – Harry could feel greater strength, coupled with new powers, flowing through him.

For one thing, there was his immunity to the cold, as well as the despair of the Dementors.

For another, there was this cold, if not evil sense of indifference at how he'd just murdered and eaten other human beings and yet the only thing he could think about that was, 'Please Sir, I want some more.'

Then there was the newest feeling that Harry was aware of; now he'd fed and his strength was back to whatever passed for normal in his new, better form, Harry realised he could smell something. A warm, enticing smell that made him think of cartoon spirits of gas beckoning him to a warm, satisfying feast that awaited him.

However, while those ghosts would beckon one to food, as in meat, vegetables and fresh-baked cakes and bread, Harry could smell a food source of a different sort, which could be summed up in one word.

Fear!

Like animals, especially those of a more-predatory, carnivorous nature – which, Harry assumed, he was now one of them – the now-silver-eyed scion could smell fear in the air…and it was delicious!

"Of course," muttered Harry, moving away from the wall as he walked along the corridor, passing the now-empty cell where the Aurors would have thrown him into darkness, before his new powers had saved him, nourished him and reminded those corrupt dicks what happened when you tickled a sleeping dragon and walked up to a hungry wolf with bloody meat around your neck, as he mused, "The other prisoners: both Sirius and Hagrid said that this place was like Hell on Earth. Drains every last drop of happiness from you until all that's left is darkness and despair, at which point the Dementors administer their fate worse than death: the Dementors' Kiss."

As Harry reached the nearest cell to the one that would have been his, he stopped suddenly as he turned to the Dementor that'd accompanied him, before he asked, "Hey, Dementor?"

'Father?'

"First things first, I must find a way to tell you lot apart; otherwise, it'd be like having a very big family where every son of mine looks like Fred and George Weasley and every daughter looks like Parvati and Padma Patil…but I digress; when you and that other Dementor came for me, did you kiss me?"

'No, Father,' replied the Dementor, earning another raised eyebrow from Harry before the Dementor told him, 'Our Kiss is not for Father, whose soul would only incinerate any Soul Stealer foolish enough to try and claim Father's essence. However, now We know that Father is destined to be Father, We gave of ourselves so that Father could come into His own.'

"You gave of yourselves?" asked Harry, looking the Dementor up and down before he asked, "What the fuck does that mean?"

'Within the Horde, and the Children of the Horde whom are loyal to Father, We carry the Heart of All Hordes: it is the source of our hunger and the only true reason We exist. Humans do not know of the Heart's existence; even if they did, We would sooner consume their spirits before giving them the chance to destroy our Hearts. However, when Our brothers discovered Father, We used the Hearts of Our brothers to awaken Father.'

"How? And please don't say you made me eat it, or some other disgusting crap like that," drawled Harry, his stomach turning at the thought of being forced to eat anything from a Dementor.

'No Father,' replied the Dementor, before it lifted one hand and pointed at Harry.

More-specifically, it pointed at his own heart where, when Harry looked down, he was a little surprised to see a very faint, glistening silvery scar over his chest, right where his heart was supposed to be. As he looked down at the scar, however, Harry scoffed to himself when he saw the scar shine brightly before it faded, leaving his chest as clean and clear as before.

Harry, meanwhile, looked back up to the Dementor as he asked, "Are you saying you put your…your Heart inside of me to…to make me Father?"

'Yes Father.'

"Huh," said Harry, running a finger over where his scar had now healed before he laughed, "Well, I suppose there are weirder ways to come into your true self; and, let me guess, the Dementor whose Heart is inside of me…they're dead?"

'Sacrificed, so that Father could ascend to His rightful place,' replied the Dementor, earning another laugh from Harry, even as he turned back to the nearest cell, following the scent of fear that drew him in like a piping hot meal on an icy-cold day.

"Well, I guess nobody can say that I don't have a heart anymore…not when I have two inside of me now."

Chapter 2 and, having discovered how it is he became Father, it looks like Harry is slowly adjusting to his new power and station, but what will he do with the feast that now awaits him in Azkaban Prison?

Also, since it looks like a certain someone was too lazy to do anything this time around, what will our Dark Father do about those who put him in a position to become something far worse than their worst nightmare?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Harry has a choice to make: who lives and who dies; in the meantime, he has some fun with his new powers: also, away from Azkaban, there are many different reactions to Harry's incarceration, all the while, the guilty parties unaware of how the Devil has found the Gate out of Hell…figuratively-speaking;

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