Author's Note
Hello, here's the revised chapter 2.
Mainly it's about Harry dealing with the fact that he DIED, and that almost everyone he thought he could trust with his life, has betrayed him. He's lost, confused, and damaged by what's happened, and he's going to have to deal with that and his moral crisis.
Lucifer will be making preparations during that time, and getting a little bit of revenge for those that deserve it.
Sorry it's taken awhile, life and all that. In short, life is tough.
Also, to better understand the format of this story.
Bold = Scene transition or emphasis on something.
Italics = Thoughts
That's it for now.
Enjoy.
-RyanTheFriend
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Religion, only one of which I'd want to.
Warning: Swearing, violence, and similar themes, even a bit of gore.
Harry Potter found himself at a split of crossroads, and was fighting both his desires and morality on where to go with his afterlife.
He was told of his options once he arrived of course, which he still found himself thinking over.
After waking up from his sleep to a dark, scarlet night, furthering his confusion over Hell's passage of time.
He still had trouble accepting everything that had happened the… 'night' before. That aspect was slightly sad, as there never was a day or a morning in Hell, on account of there being no sun. Hell was timeless in a sense, and 'days' were only counted by assumption.
Harry spent… days like this, second guessing his every decision and trying to remember some slight sign that his life had been orchestrated by a chess master far beyond his years. He was lost really, and he kept finding himself flickering through his memories, going over every regret and decision and hating himself for not correcting them.
In short, it was depressing as Hell, and he was consumed in angst and sadness, not really sure who he was, used to be, or should be.
After what felt like eternity, but in reality was no more than two weeks, Harry found the urge to leave his luxurious hotel suite. The floor he resided on was relatively empty, and for some reason… none of the doors would open. Whenever he tried, he almost felt… like he wasn't meant to do this…
He left not soon after, leaving for the strange Lobby he had seen on the trip there.
He wasn't going to be a prisoner.
The Underworldly Hotel was… an oddity.
It was large, seemed endless, and had a array of strange residents. As he had noticed on his frequent trips to the Hotel's cafeteria, the guests had some… aura about them.
Every resident had some sort of… blur to them, disguising their features, and adding a disturbing filter to their voices…
Harry had one as well, which was weird, and it apparently kicked in whenever he stepped into the lobby and stopped the second he entered the main elevators.
He assumed it was to protect the identities of the hotel's guests, but he couldn't understand why they went to such extremes.
Why would you hide your identity, if you've already lost it?
Who, is Harry Potter?
That, was the question he couldn't escape.
Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, hero of Magical Britain, Defense Prodigy, Slayer of Evil, the Golden Boy of Gryffindor, Dumbledore's Apprentice…
That, was the life he'd lived from birth to death, that was who he was.
A hero, a shining light in the murky and corrupted world of magic and horror.
He put his strength, his courage, his… heart into protecting the world, and all of those who lived in it, and bared his soul to them.
They… ruined him… They abused him, used him… Bled him dry, burned… the heart, out of him, and left him to his own devices; they let him destroy himself, and destroy himself, he did.
They didn't stop there however, they couldn't let him be a loose end.
They cut him, sliced him free of the shroud of life.
They put him down like a damn dog when they were done with him…
Life, he had learned… He wasn't meant for it, wasn't meant to be his own man, to know love or peace.
He was born to be a puppet, born to be used, born a weapon.
He lost his use, and they destroyed him.
Harry knew that now, knew the horrid truth that they had hid from him for so long, but it still made him sad. Still made him cry, still broke his heart, still hurt his soul…
Regardless, he couldn't hide in his past, couldn't go back to who he used to be.
He knew now, Harry Potter was dead and buried.
Who he was now, he didn't really know… But, if he knew one thing…
He would find out.
Harry wasn't powerless.
Despite the fact his magic had seemingly abandoned him, he still had power.
He had choices, and his decision gave him a power no one could steal from him. The power of possibility.
He thought for days over his choices, thinking over what he truly wanted, what he truly desired. Derised.
Did he want kinship, as the Mirror had shown him so long ago, when he'd been just a mere child?
Did he want closure? To finish his affairs, and close the story book he'd lived in for so long. Was that it?
Or did he really want to go through all that he had, all over again? Start from point one, and do every single thing… all over again?
He thought over his choices, and knew he had only one to choose. His decision was made however…
Harry knew that he wouldn't feel right causing destruction, so Anarchy was knocked out right away. Despite his torment, despite his losses and hardships… He wouldn't become a monster.
He wouldn't become Voldemort…
He couldn't go back either. He couldn't look those… traitors in the eye, and resist killing them on the spot.
Lucifer had told him what would happen if he just went back to life, went back to that damn forest… To those bastards that called themselves his friends… and he didn't find dying again, or retirement in Azkaban very attractive, he also didn't want to waste effort helping those traitors.
He couldn't believe it, really. Those that he had known for so long, had all been playing him along.
He didn't want to believe any of this, he still hoped it would all turn out to be some horrible dream, and he'd wake up back in Gryffindor Tower….
But, he couldn't go back.
That world was dead, and he knew it.
Harry Potter, had lived in a world of lies, and all those he knew had fed him it at every turn.
Now, he had found the truth, or at least what seemed to be it. He had to believe it, as he had to have something to hold onto… And frankly, Lucifer had no reason to lie to him, well… besides being The Devil that is.
Harry would prefer naturally not to work with Satan, but he knew that he'd have to, as no one else would.
Despite his hesitations, he couldn't let go of this. The man's offer was too great to let go of, no matter what he chose.
He had wanted so badly to meet his parents, and save them, but he knew that it'd be difficult. No matter how bad he felt, how guilty he felt for abandoning them to their fates, there were too many things that could go wrong with that.
There was the chance they wouldn't believe him, or he could be killed by them. They had been living in paranoia, and he didn't doubt that an unknown breaking into their home and claiming to be their child, would set them off.
Besides them, there was also the fact that Voldemort had been at the height of his power at the time after all… After dismissing that option, he knew what he had to do.
Harry stepped to the edge of his suite, and opened the door.
He'd made his choice.
"Hello there Mister Potter! Can I get you anything? A drink? Breakfast?" Eternal death? The Adviser said and thought upon seeing the boy once again.
He'd decided that he'd dispose of the boy if he could, he'd just have to make it look like the boy wandered into the Fields of Punishment… But, he knew of course that he couldn't do that easily.
"No thank you. Can I speak with Lucifer? I've decided on what I want." Harry politely said to the man, watching him closely.
He could tell there was something off about Lucifer's adviser, and knew that there was some motive behind the man's sudden kindness. The little man was one person Harry definitely didn't want to be in a dark alley with.
"Alright then, I'll escort you to his court… "
"Lucifer, I've made my decision." Harry told the demonic leader as he stepped into the lavish throne room.
Lucifer himself, sat upon a large spiked throne, which stood in the back of the royal room. The man had a straight look on his face, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze.
Lucifer looked at him with a shining gold view, the color matching the many metals touching on his body.
His frame was covering by a pressed black suit, the material a dark black, which clashed with his scarlet crown, golden armoring, and pointed cape…
"You have? So… anarchy?" Lucifer asked cheerfully, his tone reminding Harry of a wishful child, ignorant at the fact his wish wouldn't come true. Harry just shook his head, which immediately saddened the man.
"No… I want to start over. You said you'd help?"
"Of course… Course… Well, it isn't what I'd choose, but I'm just glad you didn't go back. Think about what you want to change, and make some plans. I know you're smart enough. It'll take a little while to send you back to 91'." Lucifer said in a rush, before looking down at Harry once more. "I have some work to do first, you should head back to the hotel, and get to work."
With that, he began ushering Harry out of the throne room, and only after the boy left did he step down.
When Lucifer's sharp loafers touched marble, he turned and began heading down the nearest hallway, purpose and instinct in his step.
Lucifer walked outward through his fortress, corridor through corridor, not a glance spared to anything until he finally arrived at a small solemn room.
The wall were a pitch black stone, a grey patterning interlaced in it's design. The dark of the room, were in turn complemented by the choice of blood-red tiled floors, which cast a gory light across the room.
On the walls, were many different doors, each with a different sign above. Some being standard symbols, such as arrows, others… different ones.
The doors were special in a way, as a new one would join the others every so often, but only when a new incarnation of Lucifer was created as well.
One sign, above a silver door, had a simple symbol. An arrow pointing eastward, another westward. There were many doors such as these, all facing a different direction in a hexagonal shape. Each door had a separate symbol, all unique, but one stood out.
Lucifer walked past them all, to a solid black door, The center door, made of a rough and mangled wood, making the door look as if it came from an obliterated building. Atop the doorway, were two glowing symbols, a silvery shine flying from from them.
The symbols on it read "未来"
He grabbed the triangular doorknob, and pulled the door free, the empty space showing what appeared to be a medieval castle in ruins.
"Ah… the Mirai door. Thank you Japan..." Lucifer muttered, before stepping into the mysterious door.
And with that, he was gone.
Hogwarts, Greater Scotland
(May 2nd, 1998)
The war was over.
Harry Potter was dead, his life ended by Tom Marvolo Riddle. A self-proclaimed 'Dark Lord.'
The last of his horcruxes, his precious familiar Nagini, had been destroyed in a rush.
The wicked Voldemort was reduced to a mere mortal, vulnerable to the smallest cut or wound.
After Harry fell, Voldemort let out a scream of agony, as the strain of prolonged life and a shattered soul caught up to him, causing him to collapse to his knees.
Before anyone could comprehend Harry's death, let alone Voldemort's agony, a loud bang echoed throughout the forest, drawing the shocked people to the scene in front of them.
Neville Joel Longbottom gripped in his hand an object he'd been given the day before, an object few there would recognize.
An object he had hoped he'd never need.
Within his grasp, lay an aged and battered Enfield Rifle that had once belonged to his lost grandfather, Orule Longbottom.
This ancient and battered rifle was aimed at the now dead body of Tom Riddle, a man whose death now stained his hands.
Immediately after he had fired it, and it's use was applied, the old rifle crumbled in Neville's hands, creating a broken pile of twisted metal and wood on the grass.
His Grandmother Augusta had pulled him aside the day before, and told him how she had heard he was to help in the fight against the Death Eaters, and offered the rifle as a last resort.
She had told him of the rifle, his grandfather's acquisition of it, and it's condition.
The rifle was in a damaged state, the many uses of it over the years, and the lack of proper maintenance, had reduced it to the sorry state it was in.
A single shot would cause it to break after one use.
She gave him a single rifle round, and told him to use the rifle to kill who he thought deserved it, and he had promised her that he would.
His original plan was to deliver the round straight into Lestrange's skull, but a shot at Voldemort himself couldn't be passed up…
He had made his decision on the fly, and before anyone could stop him, he popped Riddle's head with a single shot. Muscle, blood, and brain matter splattered him and the grass before him.
His form was now covered in blackened blood, which now began to sizzle and burn him, but he paid it no mind. Neville wasn't there fully, as the weight of his actions began to set in.
The Dark Lord was dead.
He had killed a man, albeit an evil one, he had still taken a life.
He had taken the life of another, and just as black stained his fingers, he could have sworn there was a similar stain on his soul.
"You bastard!" A shrill and outraged voice screamed out in the silence of the forest. The woman he hated most in the entire world, the one who had taken all he had… she was here, and so close…
Bellatrix Lestrange, screamed out into the forest, her anger and grief obvious to all present. Even as her wand was focused on him, his eyes stayed locked on hers. He wanted her to know, that he regretted nothing.
Within the next few seconds, a blinding green flash roared towards him, but he did not flinch. He didn't turn away.
Neville faced death as a warrior, not as a coward.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
A second later, the Longbottom line died, the grandmother unable to continue it.
A second after that, the Lestrange line died. The Lord, Lady, and Duke all dead. In the rush of flashing wands, it wasn't known who was the one to kill Bellatrix Lestrange, as many fired at the exact same time.
In actuality, it was a beautiful blonde, dressed in long black robes with yellow lining. Her heart broken, she poured all she could into the spell, causing it to outshine all of the rest.
Though the Dark Lord had been killed, along with his most loyal follower, and both of the boys who had lived, the fight had continued. The War had been fought, but the battle had not.
An hour later, every Death Eater had died, as the battle had required.
The Light had been hurt as well. Besides of their largest losses, and their reluctant battling, many good people fell for the cause.
Fred, Arthur, and Bill Weasley fell, their family fallen into darkness.
After that, the married Lupins fell, the both finally accepting each other and themselves, and dying together.
Once they lay dead, they were followed by Professor Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Fleur Delacour, Rubeus Hagrid, Oliver Wood, the majority of Hogwarts' teachers, and many members of the supposed 'Order of The Phoenix.'
Unlike their namesake, they wouldn't rise from their ashes.
Though their world was spared, the war might as well been lost. The Order was finished, the resistance was crushed, the Ministry lay in ruins, the staff of Hogwarts lay dead and the castle itself, and many students and civilians lost their lives.
With the battle, many surprises were had, and many faced. The most surprising, were the sudden additions to the fighting lines, and the turncoats.
One such defector, had been Draconis Malfoy, who had swapped sides with the fall of his mother. It was his wand, that struck down the infamous Death Eater, Rookwood, only to fall to Dolohov seconds later.
He was one of the few that would never be thanked or shown the slightest bit of gratitude. He would forever be remembered as a half-bit Death Eater.
He would be remembered, however.
Once the few surviving wounded had been treated, and the dead were prepared to be buried, many of the grieving gathered in the remains of what had been known as the most unified and recognizable place of hope in all of the Wizarding World.
The Great Hall of Hogwarts.
The lucky, or unfortunate, survivors talked and mourned over their lost loved ones, along with their allies. Their grief shared among them, helping them to recover, if only slightly.
Many of the people were lost in their own little worlds, and weren't noticing the simplest things around them. Their sadness, loss, and horror clouding their vision and minds.
Unknown to them all, there was a few ghostly people left behind, those that had chosen or been unable to move on.
Or in one case, one that didn't know how to.
"Hello Neville Longbottom…" A solemn voice muttered softly, causing Neville to realise he was still residing in the living world… as much as a spirit could.
Neville's eyes shot open at the voice, and shook in shock as he looked over himself, and noticed he looked alright.
He didn't appear too different, the exceptions being that his entire body was transparent, and there was a black hole where his heart was meant to be.
Feeling a strange calm overcome him, Neville looked towards where the voice had come, and noticed an oddly quiet blonde standing there.
He wondered how exactly she could see him, as he was pretty sure he was dead… About, ninety percent sure… Maybe eighty.
"Luna, I'm… a ghost?" Neville asked in disbelief, as he looked through his hands and saw what appeared to be faint blue veins coursing through them, and his nails were jet black.
It had all happened so fast, that he hadn't even realized he'd died until he had.
Well, guess that can't be helped…
"I think, but don't worry… we won't be stuck here for long. Luci is coming for us, and he will punish those responsible…" Luna Lovegood whispered softly, uncaring about those that stared at her, thinking that she'd truly lost it. They probably thought she'd snapped from the trauma and death around her.
She ignored them, and just couldn't wait. The end would come for them soon enough.
Besides, she snapped years ago!
"Who… who is that?" Neville asked shakily, as he drew her out of her thoughts enough to earn a reply.
"Our savior… he will make them pay, then we can fix everything. We won't be alone, so don't be sad. We'll have Harry with us again, and everything will be different. Just watch the show Neville, and enjoy..." Luna whispered, a calming smile on her face, though a look of evil, yet innocence was in her eyes.
It unnerved him greatly, but he just nodded slowly. He had no other idea of what to do anyway.
She then turned to the front of the hall, drawing his eyes there as well.
At front charge of the group of survivors, Ronald Bilius Weasley walked to the front of them all, Hermione Jane Granger by his side. Ronald shifted his eyes over the group, collecting his few thoughts before speaking out to them. His companion simply looked over the crowd and thought.
"Everyone, we have lost good people today, but it's been worth it. We won, and that snake bastard is dead. Harry might have died, but now the world is safe. His sacrifice was necessary no matter how sad it is, and I'm sure he would be proud of all we've done today. We will just have to-." Ronald tried to say, before his horrid speech was cut short. As he had spoke, his words had spoken of sadness, but his eyes gleamed with a dark happiness that he'd kept hidden for so long.
This was the moment he'd waited seven years for, after all.
They would all get their rewards, the true reason he'd befriended the last Potter, his wealth, one of the many things Potter had held over his head.
But he, Ron Weasley was on top now. It was his turn!
His thoughts were scattered however, when a deep and cold voice cut him off, drawing every eye in the hall to it's source… A man now stood before them, if you could call it that.
"No it wasn't. That boy hadn't needed to die, but you're right Weasley… It is better this way… Because now I can give you what you truly deserve.
Prepare… to be punished for your sins… " A deep, sickening voice said, drawing their attention to a creature that appeared in front of the redhead.
The creature stood like a man, had red reptilian skin, wings, and long goat-like horns. Blood red armor covered almost inch of the creature's body, giving it an almost robotic appearance, only ruined by a solid black robe.
The man looked to all, like a Murderer.
A Monster.
A Horror.
A Dementor's Worst Nightmare.
A True Vision of Death.
An Unholy Appearance.
A Beautiful Disaster.
The First of The Dark.
The Devil Himself.
Every assumption would sadly be right, as he was all in one horrific form, come to bring vengeance on the arrogant.
"All of you… will pay, but you… YOU first Weasley." Lord Lucifer of Hell bellowed loudly, thrusting a long black blade through Ronald's throat, utterly ruining it. In seconds, every bone was pulverized, the jugular going with it, as the blade flew through the back of his neck.
Before the ginger could even react, Lucifer pulled the barbed blade to him, ripping the entirety of the boy's throat out gruesomely.
The action created a horrific wet sound, and caused many screams of fear, as blood continued to shoot out of the wound, causing dark red to fly through the air.
This one moment scarred every Weasley as the 'beloved' boy fell to the cracked stone floor, and Hermione Granger, as her 'dear' boyfriend gave her a sweet gift.
Scarlet droplets.
The body count rose by one more. Unknown to them all, many more would join the count by first dawn, of which it would be the brightest.
The Devil had come to play… and they would all play his game…
Review if you enjoyed or had any thoughts.
So, yeah. This is a horror story as well, did I mention that? Woops if I didn't, but yeah. Horror/Humor.
I will say, Harry has much to do before going back to Hogwarts (When he does), so… Be aware, it'll take some time.
Sorry that it took so long, but this chapter was a good length, and took a while to get it how I wanted it.
Have a good day, and goodbye.
-RTF