Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter Universe. All recognisable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of Joanne Kathleen Rowling.

I make no claims to ownership, nor am I making any profit.

And that includes no donations for early chapters or shit like that. It's completely free.

Type:- Self-Insert OC Fanfic.

Genre:- Tragic Love Story involving Time Travel.

Pairings- Ares Alexander Potter/Daphne Greengrass. Haven't decided on the others yet.

Author's Notes: To be frank, I've completely fucked up canon.

Warning:-And this story mentions every possible dark thing that can be done in fanfiction. This involves blood, gore, depression, torture and mentions of sexual situations. NO LEMONS, HOWEVER. This sentence is bold, underlined and italicized. So I can't be blamed if you don't read the warning. So please don't read this story if you're sensitive.

This story has no beta since I wanted to try it on my own and secondly, my editors are underage.

So it's all me and my mediocre abilities. I would, however, welcome it if someone wants to offer their service. Contact me on Discord or FFN. I could use the extra help :)

Tales of a Dying Heart

by

Ares Alexander Peverell

Chapter 2

"Hundred and Sixteen," Ares spoke loudly, a broken hopeless man. His eyes were red, almost identical to those of Lord Voldemort and she couldn't avoid the shiver that passed through her body. The pain soon disappeared into a smooth mask.

"What?" she asked, not understanding her cryptic words.

The next three words that he spoke would shatter all the doubt in her mind.

"Daphne was three months pregnant," he managed to get out wheezily.

He turned around, before simply disappearing.

The night was still young. It was going to stay the same for a very long time

Ares Potter Found Dead

By

Lavender Brown

Dear witches and wizards. I'm sad to announce that our string of unfortunate happenings has yet to stop. Ares Potter, the twin to the Man-Who-Conquered was found dead in the early morning. His remains were found next to the grave of his wife. The Aurors speculate that he was attacked and killed while he buried his wife.

Many people speculate foul play in this situation. With the Greengrass Massacre and this, it's been suspected that this is directly linked to the person responsible for our war hero's murder.

For those of you who don't know, Ares Potter is directly responsible for defeating our ending the tyranny of most of the Dark Lord's inner circle, including names such as Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Walden McNair and Corban Yaxley.

"Mr Potter has been one of the brightest students to ever walk the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. He and his brother may have had a hard life, but he had been a beacon of support for all of us, He would be sorely missed,"- Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts had to say.

Neither the minister nor Harry Potter was available to comment on this situation.

Our team sincerely hopes that they may recover from such dark times. And may justice prevail on those who have done such dastardly deeds. And may our deceased hero finally find peace beyond the veil along with his wife.

For more information on the life of Ares Potter, turn to page 3

For more information on the life of his relation to his twin, the Man-Who-Conquered, turn to page 4

For more information on the Potter family, turn to page 14

Alain Dimitrov was a man that was not generally someone people dared to cross. He was a powerbroker, plain and simple. And that influence had even increased even further since he had struck a deal with the Aurors to provide them with the information on the Dark Faction.

The party he had organized was more than just for show. Trafficking even one of those Veela all the way from the Veela Enclaves was a particularly dangerous task. He had managed to get one of them and judging by the interest shown by many people, they wouldn't mind a night or two with the beast. More than a fair few would pay heavily for those filthy-blooded beasts, even if it was for just a single night. Although he had to admit that no one couldn't deny their beauty. Such pretty little things they were. And he had a soft spot for young flesh.

This was Königtum und Größe, one of the finest private estates in entire Britain. He had been able to purchase it as a token for his "Service to the Wizarding World". It had all gone tits up since the Greengrass Massacre had been something neither the anti-dark Ministry activists had understood, nor did he have any inkling of what would happen.

He had doubled his security team to a generous amount. It may attract attention, but the Ministry wasn't something he had trouble with. He may have performed shady and illicit activities, but he was no dark wizard.

Thankfully, the extra protections had managed to soothe his mind. He was sure of his safety. But first, he had a party to attend and then participate in the best night of his life.

Alain dressed up in his finest robes and walked down the corridor. He could hear the sounds of the gathered people and was sure that his business ventures would go fruitful. These high-class arrogant fools really loved their gatherings. And there were very few who did it as well as he did, especially with the fall of the dark faction after Lord Voldemort's death.

But first, he wanted to have a look at her.

"Congratulations! I will finally have you. Won't you enjoy that mon Cherie? The potion would finally start its effect tonight" he told the little girl, barely seventeen.

She was dressed in torn undergarments that looked like they had been ripped by a savage. Her skin had nail marks all over them and she also had several bruises all over her frail body. Her pale skin looked almost chalky with her blonde hair looking unkempt and caked with blood and dirt.

She only whimpered in response, cuddling herself even further while trying to gain some warmth. Her soft brown eyes were flickering around fearfully, anticipating further attacks on her.

Dimitrov just basked in her fear for a few moments before leaving the room. The sound of whimpers could not be heard behind the heavy soundproof wards of the dungeons.

Ares was like a madman possessed. There was only one name that had been roaming in his mind; Alain Dimitrov. He had asked Blaise to get the entire information on the man.

He knew that he should've been grieving, shouting or even crying. But he felt nothing of that sort. All he had was a cold calculated rage and the comfort of his magic running through his veins. There was a strange itch to his magic.

He had spent countless nights throwing around raw magic. Spells he couldn't ever hope to do left his wand like no tomorrow. His wandless skills surprised him. His magic itched to slaughter, dreamt of bringing justice to those who had killed his beloved family.

He had poured through Dark Arts like a thirsty man searching for water in the middle of the Sahara Desert. The magic felt just right. It felt fantastic.

Ares knew that his proficiency in the Mind Arts was his only barrier from going mad. Sometimes he wondered not feeling at all would be a better option.

It wouldn't have hurt so fucking much. His wife, his child. All dead in a single stroke. He would get his answers. He couldn't wait any further. Picking up his new wand, he couldn't help but feel how different it felt from his Yew and Nundu Heartstring wand.

The wand had all but exploded in his face. He needed a new wand to accomplish his goal of revenge. It may take him to the pits of hell, but it would all be for the Greater Good.

Dumbledore must be rolling in his grave. He thought in sick amusement. The man's intentions may have been good and he was insanely powerful and able, but he often struggled to see a general truth. The fact that not everyone was on a pedestal like him and had the resources to be so moral.

[Flashback]

Ares apparated to the German equivalent of Diagon Alley. He knew that Aurors would soon be on his trail. The international apparition would've ringed every bell in the German Department of Magical Transport. He hardly cared though. He would be gone sooner and had ensured that his location couldn't be traced. These Aurors were no match for him, all arrogance aside.

Besides, it would be a nightmare for them to find a specific magical signature in such a magic-rich place.

Ares had heard the rumour of a new wandmaker in the place. His first bet was to go to Ollivander's. However, that man was a fucking paedophilic creep and would've recognized him in an instant. Mused in his thoughts, he reached the counter of the shop.

"How may I help you, Sir?" He spoke in flawless English, his voice soft and melodic. Ares knew that the man was not a Gregorovitch. He had met the man, entered and studied his mind to subconsciously better his knowledge of Wandlore. The war with Voldemort had led him to make acquaintance with the German wandmaker.

"Wand," he said, voice chalky and rough. However, his magic was singing him to fight, to conquer and strike the pathetic man down. The man felt so familiar, yet so unknown.

"What was your old wand made of?" the wandmaker questioned, although Ares could see a silent sparkle in his eyes.

Ares presented the wand to the man, keeping an eye on him in case he needed some convincing. He was sure, however, that it wouldn't be recognized.

The man opened the counter door, put the close sign before gesturing to enter behind.

All this time, the man remained unfazed, showing no emotions on his face. Either he was a really good actor, or he was just that eccentric. Ares suspected the former.

"I believe that I would require a vial of your blood," the wandmaker demanded, handing him a vial.

It had barely taken the wandmaker fifteen minutes of tinkering before he returned with a wand.

"It seemed that it was the wood that resisted your wand. The Nundu Heartstring was still recoverable. I present to you, Same length and core to your old wand, Elder Wood and Emerald as a focusing crystal to refine your spell-casting. It's also blood keyed to you." the wandmaker told him, eyes shining with delight.

Taking the wand, he felt the same rush go through him as it did the first time. Taking some time to recover from all the delicious waves of magic running through him, he rather focused on the wandmaker whose face was smug with satisfaction.

Paying for the new wand, Ares was about to leave when the wandmaker's next words slipped the earth below him.

"The path you are going to follow will only lead you to your own damnation, Ares Alexander Potter. Your very magic whispers your desire. Neither of your goals can come to fruition. The path of a Dark Lord is not an easy one. I walked that path a long time ago, trust me, it led me to nowhere. "

With the power and precision befitting the title as one of the most powerful practitioners of the mind arts, the illusion around him was shattered to pieces.

Ares turned around, meeting the heterochromatic eyes of Gellert Grindelwald.

"Most Impressive indeed!" he spoke, showing no concern at his illusion being broken, "Rendering apart an illusion of a seer is nigh impossible. Although hardly surprising since Salazar Slytherin himself had Peverell blood running in his veins."

"I thought that you were dead, Dark Lord Grindelwald." Ares mocked the man, his magic itching for a fight. He may have been startled by the appearance, but his rational side knew that a fight was certainly not what the man was here for.

He wasn't sure that he was even being rational in his approach. Grindelwald's nonchalant attitude could easily be translated that he had nothing to fear from Ares. Dumbledore had defeated the man though. He knew their history and what they achieved to aspire together. He was not entirely powerless.

The man's eyes showed a flicker of anger, which was soon subdued. "Do not mock me, boy. I didn't almost conquer entire Europe for nothing," he spoke, magic leaking into his voice.

The man started pacing around, undeterred and making Ares somewhat nervous. He really didn't anticipate this to happen. The man certainly possessed an aura of strength.

"What are you here for?" Ares questioned, not liking where the conversation was going. He was confident enough that he could somehow fight the wizard to a standstill due to his weakened condition. But Grindelwald's knowledge was second to none and he didn't wish to test it.

"An advice," he spoke, ignoring Ares' rudeness.

"Two Lords of Magic of the same affinity cannot exist at the same time," came the reply, stunning him a bit.

"So are you here to renew your legacy?" Ares inquired, wand gripped in his hand.

"NO! I'm here to pass it. There's a book on that table that might suit your interests." he spoke, gesturing to an innocent-looking book kept on the table.

Ares ran a plethora of detection spells on the object, much to Grindelwald's amusement, keeping a careful eye on the wizard behind him.

Gently picking it up, he turned it to the first page. Its words shocked Ares to the core.

The Grimoire of Gellert Grindelwald

For the Greater Good

How? Why? What? Ares questioned himself, stunned into silence.

He swiftly turned back to ask Grindelwald. However, it was just an empty space. Ares knew that the man's purpose had been fulfilled. He would never be seeing him again.

Picking up the book, he moved towards the exit of the house. There were infinite questions, yet not enough answers. He would find them soon enough though. He always did.

[2 months later]

Draco Malfoy knew that he was not the most brilliant, or powerful or ablest of wizards. He was annoying, a coward and irresponsible. But there was no denying that he had loved his mother to death. Narcissa Malfoy had been the one who had shielded him from the truth of reality. She had taken the Dark Mark just to protect him from the wrath of Voldemort and it was her lie that ensured that Voldemort was defeated.

But knowing that her mother's sacrifice had been as worthless as the Order of the Merlin that had been given to her had snapped something within him. He had changed himself for good. He never pretended to like Ares Salazar-damned Potter. But he would do anything to fight. He wanted revenge. He wanted her mother's sacrifice to mean something.

He tightly clenched his hands until the nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. It was only the comfort of his wife that he didn't start screaming then and there.

Looking at his wife's pensive expression, she was not faring better. Every instinct of his body warned him that this was madness. That what Ares Potter was doing was going to lead him to a dark path. But honestly, he didn't care.

"It will be alright, husband of mine," she kissed his cheeks, her warm breath near him made him somewhat feel relieved that he was not alone. She would always support him no matter what.

Astoria had lost her sister. She was a pureblood and purebloods didn't take a shit when someone messed with family. Their family would always come first.

A cynical part of him wanted to make him believe that he was acting on his emotions. And maybe he was. He had spent the last two months gaining considerable followers in his thirst for revenge. To be honest, he didn't even need to convince them.

There had not been a single mention of it by anybody, even after the extensive investigation. They were purebloods. No matter how distraught they were, they had shown their gratitude by not speaking a single name. Most were searching for ways to gain revenge and it had been a simple mention at the right places that did the job. However, the ministry was certainly not wrong in its assumption. Yet, they had no idea what was coming for them.

He was sure that Astoria's presumption was correct. Potter was charismatic, powerful and manipulative. There was not a single shred of doubt in that. But the way the information was reaching everybody could only mean one man. Blaise Zabini.

And with Draco already gathering support. It would mean that he was in the league or at least supportive of the current "Dark Lord." Potter did know how to play his games very well. Draco did not know how he had managed to make himself "dead", but it had been done flawlessly.

Blaise Zabini had been his direct contact these days. He assumed that perhaps he'd have the pleasure of meeting Blaise today.

"Are you certain of this, Draco? Will we succeed?" Astoria asked him worriedly, chewing her lips. Although there was a glint of loss and pain in her eyes that made him want her to hug her and never let her leave.

"We will, Tori. WE WILL," he declared, lightly kissing her.

The couple covered their adorned black cloaks and touched their bracelets that served as their portkey.

"Fallen"

It seems that I've got into the habit of ending chapters on cliffhangers. Nonetheless, the next chapter would provide several answers as well as raise more questions. I'll admit that this story seems confusing and would continue to do so till Ch5.

The story is far darker, intricately woven around the plot and motivations of the characters. Therefore, I would be doing it no justice if I do not give it my best.

Rest assured, you'll love it after Ch5. That's something I can promise.

My server is open for all of you. I post the link every chapter because connecting to my readers lets me better analyze my stories. I also post regular updates every 500 words written, so you can check my progress in real-time in a way.

I have a Discord server where I post contents that are relevant to the SQFverse, and I'd appreciate you there. The community also has several fellow writers and if you're interested in writing, that's the place you can get all the guidance and the start you need.

Discord Link- /6ngeKHXktN

You're all welcome to Thestral Manor. Our server is a lot more open-minded than most others, along with having several other writers. I also post a lot of spell and story aspects that are not feasible here. I'd love to see you there. :)

Thanking you,

Yours sincerely,

Ares Alexander Peverell.