Harry Potter: The End of All Magic: A Harry Potter Fanfiction
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own any crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.
Plot: When Lord Voldemort was destroyed in Godric's Hollow, the Powers That Be made a very stupid mistake. In doing so, they gave life to a force that, instead of saving anyone, might just become the dawn of the end of all Magic as we know it. Merlin help us!
Author's Note: So, here we have another sample from the Lockdown Library turned into a full story and, for this one, I went down a road that I've never read in HP fanfiction, so…well, let's just see where the road takes us, shall we?
And, as always, if you don't like it, don't read it.
Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to my dear friend and brother-in-all-but-blood, Winged Seer Wolf, who once suggested something along the lines of where this story will go and…well, inspiration did the rest, but, still, my dear special friend, thank you very much for aiding me with this dark nugget's birth.
Recommended Reads: Harry Potter: Lord of Darkness by AngelSlayer135, The Rise of a Dark Lord by LittleMissXanda, Kill me if you can by PercyPendragon3, Dark Lord Potter, Damaged Raven and Apex by JustBored21, Harry Potter, Dark Legacy by The Fallen One 2012, Dark Prince Rises, Argent Knight of Pendragon and Nephalem of X by Ronin2106, Monochrome by TheBlackStaff and NightMarE, Do Not Meddle In The Affairs Of Wizards by Corwalch, Harry Potter, Master of Death by Pseudonominal, Harry Potter: Rise of Darkness by Rezurex, Worthy of Magic by Sage Ra, Path to Power by sirius009 and No Regrets by MyAlternatePersona
Key Pairing: Harry/Male Harem (Draco/OMC/Blaise/Horcrux-reborn-teenage-Tom-Riddle/Weasley Twins)
Other Pairings: Sirius/Bellatrix; Others TBD
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
'Mental Speech'
/Parseltongue/
Chapter 1: The Little Dementor
When the recently-elected Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, heard that the Dark Lord Voldemort had been destroyed, he was as happy as a pig in a shit-pit the size of Canada.
He wasn't the only one who was ecstatic at the news, of course; almost everyone across the length and breadth of Albion – or the United Kingdom, as the Muggles called it – celebrated the fall of the Dark Lord, treating the whole day as a day of celebration worthy of the end of the Muggle World Wars – both November 11th 1918 and September 2nd 1945 – put together.
All throughout these days of celebration, a large number of wizards were cautioned, if not flat-out arrested for threatening the Statute of Secrecy as they moved freely and without fear of reprisal, as they went about their business without a care in said world. Mothers let their children play in the street, the sky was full of fireworks and more owls than the number that should have probably existed in Britain alone and free-spiritedness, wonder and delight were the specials of the day amidst celebration, hope and joy.
However, while the inhabitants of Magical Britain became drunk on excitement, none of them were aware of the very stupid mistake made by the man whom was supposed to be the leader of this world and the good times ahead.
The End
"Come on, Black! Move it!"
"But…but you don't understand!" cried Sirius Black, before he was punched hard in the stomach by the Auror guard accompanying his transfer to Azkaban Prison, having been caught and arrested and then sent – without a trial, he didn't hesitate to add – to serve out a life sentence in Azkaban Prison for the murder of a wizard, Peter Pettigrew, and no less than thirteen Muggles.
However, no matter how hard he tried to get it out, the fact of the matter was that Sirius was innocent!
He didn't kill anyone, much less blow up a street and endanger the Statute of Secrecy as badly, if not worse than all those punch-drunk Magicals who paraded the streets like Mardi Gras had come to Britain.
But did anyone listen? Did they care? Did they even give him a chance to plead his case?
No!
"Shut your mouth, Death Eater!" spat the Auror, before their companion sniggered suddenly, earning a curious, if not suspicious look from the first Auror, "What's so funny, Jones?"
"Oh, sorry; it's just, I think I just found the perfect form of irony for this one, Smith," laughed the Auror, taking a key, which he used to open a cell door, before he added, "Look at it this way, partner; if the Dementors don't kill this one, Black will probably do it for them. I mean, come on; you've heard the reports. I think you'll agree something like that is what he'd want, after all."
Looking up at the cell in question, Jones laughed in agreement before, giving Sirius a good kick for good measure, he booted the Black Scion into the cell, slamming the door hard before both men walked away, laughing jovially.
In the darkness of the cell, Sirius struggled to get to his feet, cursing the sick and tactless twit who'd decided he didn't even deserve a trial, much less a chance to prove his innocence like so many other actual, honest-to-evil Dark Wizards.
At the same time, Sirius silently wondered who could be so thick, pig-ignorant and braindead that they would even allow this to happen?
Almost-immediately, an image of a Charlie-Chaplin-meets-Adolf-Hitler wizard filled his mind, earning a snarl from Sirius.
If he got out of here…
"Pa'foo?"
Suddenly, as Sirius began making an unspoken promise to deal with the fucked-up Ministry toady – and his boss, to boot – the Black Scion's eyes widened in disbelief, horror and no small amount of alarm as he spun around, just in time to see a pair of emerald-green eyes looking up at him from within the folds of a dirty, badly-stained, foul-smelling blanket, the owner of the eyes dressed in what could only be described as the smallest suit of Azkaban robes Sirius had ever seen.
"No!" gasped Sirius, a small part of him suddenly driven to all-new levels of personal, magical and oath-sworn-vengeful rage and alarm as he realised exactly what it was that the Aurors had found so funny about throwing him into this particular cell. At the same time, another part of him compelled his legs to move, dragging his body to the bedroll where, without waiting for any other alternative option to show itself, Sirius scooped the speaker into his arms.
"Harry?" asked Sirius, earning a low whimper from the infant in his arms, the emerald-green eyes and small, barely-grown mop of unruly black hair almost as impossible to mistake as the red, enflamed lightning-bolt-shaped scar on the child's brow. As the small child buried his head into Sirius' robes, the newest Prisoner of Azkaban turned his eyes on the door to the cell, a scream of rage, disbelief and ferociously-high levels of vengeful promises dancing on his tongue as he held tightly to the only thing he had left in this world.
His boy.
His godson.
Harry James Potter, whom many had said was the reason for Voldemort's downfall.
But still, Sirius couldn't stop the fiery question bursting forth as he screamed at the darkness;
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN AZKABAN?"
"Ah, shut up, Black!" laughed Jones, before Sirius' eyes widened in alarm when he felt a wave of all-encompassing dread, fear and pain wash over him, accompanied by a flicker of memory, which showed him an image he had never wanted to see in his lifetime.
Lily…
James…
Dead!
"No, you can't!" cried Sirius, even as the door to his cell opened, accompanied by a fearful whimper from the toddler in his arms; as Sirius tried to shield Harry from the source of the dread-wave, as well as the cold that now accompanied it, as the door was opened, the Black Scion tried to make his gaolers see reason.
"Please! He's just a boy! A baby! You…you can't let that…that thing hurt him!"
"Except…he's not just a boy, is he, Black?" asked Smith, earning a furious glare from Sirius, which barely managed to stay fixed on his face as the source of the cold, the dread and the pained memories that flashed across Sirius' consciousness now revealed itself for what it was.
A Dementor!
And, to Sirius' horror, these sickos were about to sic this soul-eating monster on…on…on a baby!
"He's a monster!" crowed Jones, earning a snarl of denial and outrage from Sirius, even as Jones laughed, "The Minister himself said it; that freak used some unknown Dark Magic to do what nobody can do…survive the Killing Curse with nothing but a stupid scar!"
"NO!" Exclaimed Sirius, though, at the same time, he felt a glimmer of amazement wash over him as he realised that whatever Lily and James had been planning in a desperate bid to protect their boy must have worked.
But did the Powers take that explanation?
No.
They just used pure-blood dogma.
We can't explain it, we can't buy it and we can't do it, so it MUST be Dark Magic!
As the Dementor drew closer to them, Sirius turned Harry away from the dark fiend, earning another frightened whimper from the infant, accompanied by a smell that Sirius didn't need to check to know what had happened. After all, Harry was only 15 months old, for Merlin's sake, and he was facing down every grown man and woman's worst nightmare: a soul-hungry Dementor, which was proceeding to suck all the happiness and light out of the air, leaving only misery, pain and darkness.
Any adult would probably soil themselves, although probably not as quickly as Harry had done.
"Enough pussyfooting," sneered Smith, earning a curious look from his colleague, while the power-drunk guard laughed, "Let's just do the world a favour, Jones; if anyone asks, we'll say Black or one of these nutcases offed the brat…now, Kiss him!"
"NO!" Yelled Sirius.
However, before he had a chance to try and do anything else to defend his godson from this earthbound demon, Sirius found his body yanked away from Harry by a spell from Jones, while Smith hit him with a Stunning Hex, forcing Sirius onto his side.
All so he could watch as little Harry screamed bloody murder while the Dementor lowered its hood, revealing the true face of a monster – if the hollow-breathing, empty, void-like thing beneath the creature's hood could even be called a face – as it lowered its quote-unquote mouth to the infant, whom was now pushing at empty air, screaming no over and over again, whilst crying for Mama, Papa, Mooey and, worse of all, Pa'foo to come to his aid, to help him and protect him from the bad thing.
But Mama was gone.
Papa was gone.
Mooey was…Sirius really wished he knew where, especially since, even with his furry little problem, his dearly-beloved best friend and brother-in-all-but-blood surely wouldn't have ignored his honorary pack, would he?
As for Pa'foo, he was stunned, helpless and unable to do anything, but watch as the Dementor's grotesque mouthpiece touched Harry's lips…
And then, to Sirius' alarm, disbelief and wonder – as well as relief – all of a sudden, the Dementor recoiled in horror, letting out a hollow, rasping, guttural gurgling sort of noise, which, to Sirius' amazement, almost made it look and sound like, somehow, the Dementor was…choking!
The creature's skeletal hands clasped at whatever grotesque excuse for flesh existed beneath its head, still making that weird, clogging, choking sound as it recoiled again, moving in such a frenzied, almost-drunken stagger of a pattern that even Sirius found it hard to believe what he was seeing, much less what was happening.
Unfortunately, while he was helpless to do anything, but watch, the two ingrates standing guard weren't.
"I knew he was evil! Damnit, I'll get a promotion for this!" exclaimed Smith, racing into the cell, kicking Sirius once for good measure, before he laughed, "Imagine it: Ezekiel Smith, the new Director of the DMLE…ha; I can just imagine all the loving, caring friends my boy Zacharias will get when he goes to Hogwarts. He'll be more famous than Dumbledore after this…now, say nighty-night, you little monster: Avada Kedavra!"
Even as the deranged Auror made his move, Sirius found himself smiling – at least, on the inside he was, while his stunned body remained in a limp, paralysed state – as he mused, 'Somehow, I have a feeling you probably shouldn't have done that, Smitty.'
He was right too.
As soon as the green flash of the Killing Curse flew from Smith's wand, whatever strange power had kept the Dementor from kissing Harry seemed to flare up again as the curse did hit Harry, though not before it seemed to explode on contact, instead of fading into his skin and destroying him. At the same time the curse exploded, what could only be described as a swirling void of unknown magical energy seemed to reach out and pull the curse into its event horizon, almost like a black hole had suddenly been formed within little Harry.
As Smith watched in alarm and disbelief, Sirius heard a loud, earth-shattering scream of torment coming from outside the cell; had he been able to turn around, Sirius would have seen Jones finding himself assaulted by what had to be every Dementor in Azkaban, all of whom seemed to be trying to Kiss the delusional Auror's partner at the same time. As a result, Jones' soul was being shredded more times than grated cheese, leaving him screaming in pure, unrestrained torment before finally, inevitably, his soulless corpse hit the floor, twitching as though it had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse even after being Kissed.
Smith, meanwhile, seemed to have gone rigid, his body unmoving as, like Sirius, he watched the void swallow up his curse before, to Sirius' amazement, he heard little Harry giggle, reaching up to Smith like he was a cherished friend.
And, as if that wasn't weird and awe-inspiring enough, Smith took the infant's hand before, to Sirius' amazement, the deranged Auror kneeled by the child's bedside, his head bowed and his voice low, submissive and cool-toned as he addressed the boy.
"I understand, Master…thank you for allowing me to live a little longer. I'll go now; I have a new pet to train for you…yes…I understand your will perfectly, my Lord."
Then, rising up, Smith turned once, flicking his wand to remove the paralysis from Sirius, making the Black Scion gasp in amazement and disbelief as he scrabbled to his feet, only to watch as Smith nodded once before he walked over to Sirius.
Out of little more than instinct, Sirius lifted his hands to defend himself, though, instead of attacking him, Smith flicked his wand again, summoning Jones' wand from where his corpse lay. Once he had his ex-partner's wand in hand, Smith handed it to Sirius, who looked on in abject curiosity and amazement, while Smith spoke to him with that same willingly-submissive tone.
"Raise him, love him, never betray him, Black; He is all you need now. And, to help you, and, in doing so, help him, I think I'll accidentally leave my former partner's wand in your cell…whoops."
Taking the wand, if only because of how it was going to help Harry, Sirius looked from Smith to his boy – whom now seemed to be sleeping while, to Sirius' curiosity, the Dementor that had seemingly choked on Harry was now hovering nearby like a loyal, unwavering guard dog – and back again before, finally, he managed to find his voice.
"What happened over there, Smitty?"
"I was tested," replied Smith, pocketing his own wand as he added, "And found worthy: The Master still has need of me. He told me so; now, I must go and make sure my own child knows whom it is he will serve. Until then, and until the weaklings remember and realise their mistakes, you are here to protect Him, Black."
"Always," said Sirius, stepping aside, as he watched Smith leave the cell, before he smirked as he added, "I don't suppose I can convince you to try and arrange my trial and help get my boy out of here, can I?"
"No," said Smith, looking back at Sirius with almost-glassy milky-white eyes, which looked at Sirius from under a head of overhanging auburn hair, as he added, "The Master wants to be here; this is his Home. If I try to take it from Him before He is ready to come out, I will pay a far greater price than mere gold and jewels. So, no, Black: there will be no freedom for you…other than the freedom He gives you…you're lucky."
"I am?"
"He sees you as family," replied Smith, earning a scoff of amusement from Sirius, "Whereas I am but his slave, his toy, his pet and his pawn; it is my duty to give Him what He craves most. And I shall; rest assured, Black: this will not be the last time you see me."
"I saw you once and I hated you," drawled Sirius, before he pocketed the wand that Smith had given him, before shifting into his Animagus form as he walked over and settled down next to his boy.
To Sirius' delight, Harry's small hands found Padfoot's fur, as the small boy snuggled down to sleep.
How anyone could sleep in Azkaban, and so peacefully, Sirius didn't know.
But, from the sounds of it, his boy was now safe, even in Hell itself.
And that…
That was very good indeed.
Wow, talk about spooky!
Harry's been sent to Azkaban by an idiot and it looks like other idiots have learned a terribly-painful lesson, but how is any of this possible in the first place?
What did Harry do to that Dementor and could it have anything to do with the swarm that attacked Auror Jones?
Also, what happened to Smith, both during and after he cast the Killing Curse on the Boy-Who-Lived?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: Ten years later, Harry James Potter receives a very interesting, if not overdue, birthday present, while we see what ten years in Wizarding Hell has done to the so-called saviour of Magical Britain;
Please Read and Review
AN: Portrayal
Ezekiel Smith: Michael McMillian