Introduction: Paid In Blood by Zaterra02 is one of my all-time favorites. However, English was not the author's first language, and as good as the story is, the spelling, grammar, and language issues can make it really difficult to read. The fact that it's still so popular in spite of all the errors is actually pretty impressive.
With that in mind, I decided to take the story and try to clean it up – just for fun. I haven't changed anything from the original plot. I made a lot of grammatical corrections and some different word choices, but I tried not to go overboard so that the author's style would still be present. I also referred to the books and wiki to make sure names, spells, etc. matched canon whenever possible. There were some instances where the author's intent wasn't entirely clear so I had to make an educated guess, but overall it's the exact same story.
Zaterra02 doesn't seem to be around anymore, but I want to make sure proper credit is given to the original. If anything I like to think of this as a long overdue beta. If you want the original Paid In Blood, it has been reposted here by other users & it's listed in my favorites.
The entire story is ready to post, but it'll probably take a couple of days for me to upload it all. I've been through it twice, but it's possible I missed something, so if there are any lingering issues I'll correct them as they're spotted.
Chapter One: Prologue
The Dark Lord finished the last line in his circle of runes, using a mixture of diamond dust, unicorn blood, and the Elixir of Life created with his own Philosopher's Stone. The resulting paste was used to draw the runes clusters, creating a circle one hundred feet in diameter. The man rose and beheld his work. The markings were perfectly designed, the result of years of work, of uncounted trials and errors, of decades of study, all leading to that moment. The depressions in the floor were designed in a way that the liquids spilled around the periphery would flow into the center, where the Dark Lord would be.
The Dark Lord was an old man. He was nearly a hundred years of age, though he didn't look older than forty. He looked over his shoulder and noticed the presence of his most loyal servant, the one who had stood with him through nearly ninety years of life, wars, happiness, loss, and death. His servant looked at him and held his head high, as his master had ordered him all those years ago. He too was old. The difference between him and his master was that he was an elf. He had once been a house-elf, but after making a bond of friendship, allegiance, and loyalty, he became much more than that. He was a dark elf, his life and the Dark Lord's merged for all time. He alone held his master's ear. He alone was the banner man of his master, ruling at his master's side in his lord's name over wizards, goblins, elves, and other magical creatures.
Both he and his master were tyrants, but they had been at peace for nearly seventy years, both in the Wizarding World and between wizards and muggles.
The elf grinned. It wasn't an amused grin, but a cruel one. He knew what his master was thinking. He shared the very same thoughts.
"Send them in," his master ordered in a ragged voice. His lord hadn't spoken in days.
"Wouldn't it be wise to rest, my lord?" asked the elf, not out of defiance, but care. "You should eat and rest before the next step."
The Dark Lord simply sighed. He truly was weary. He simply nodded and levitated himself from the center of the rune cluster, sitting on his throne next to his servant, who gave him a plate filled with fruits and a cup of water. The Dark Lord ate, drank, and closed his eyes.
He knew he was asleep when he saw a blue-eyed, blonde beauty smiling sadly at him. In his dream he wanted to catch her. He wanted to hold her in his arms and never let her go, but he could never catch her. Even his dreams mocked him. For nearly eighty years he had that dream. Every night he would run after her until he couldn't run anymore, and then he would wake up. What was worse, she called for him, as if she was begging him to catch her. To find her. To hold her. To save her. TO SAVE HER!
The Dark Lord's eyes flared. A green light was radiating from his eyes, filling the room and revealing his true power as he rose from his seat.
"Bring them in!" he ordered. At once, the dark elf popped out of the room, and moments later a door opened. Through it came thirty people, taking their pre-determined positions around the rune cluster. They crossed their arms behind their backs and awaited their master's commands. Those thirty were under the Imperius Curse, of course. There was no reason why the Dark Lord would allow stupidity or disloyalty to ruin the ritual, important as it was for him. He had been preparing this for decades, and he would not allow any flaws. The Dark Lord picked up his wand and levitated himself to the center of the rune cluster.
"Come, my loyal friend. It is time," the Dark Lord called his servant, who popped in front of his master, kneeling.
"I will be forever indebted to you for this gift, Master," the dark elf said, looking at his lord. The Dark Lord smiled and handed his second wand to his friend. Being an elf, he didn't need a wand, but as the Dark Lord learned elven magic, so did the elf learn human magic. Besides, there was no spell in elven magic for what they needed.
"Slit your own throats and bleed into the cavities before you," the Dark Lord ordered the thirty people around them. At once, they all reached for their silver daggers and brought them to their throats. Some simply opened a gash and let the blood flow, while others mutilated themselves so that the blood could flow more quickly. Within minutes, everyone had bled to death.
The blood flowed into the center of the cluster and surrounded both the Dark Lord and the dark elf, both beginning to chant in a long-forgotten language. More people came in, taking the positions of those who had entered before them. They too slit their own throats, letting the crimson liquid flow. The pattern was repeated several times as the corpses piled around the rune cluster. The runes started to shine in red as the blood began to be absorbed by them, powering the cluster. When the Dark Lord and his servant finished chanting, the runes were incandescent in the floor, giving the entire room a blood-red glow, adding to the eerie atmosphere amongst the corpses and black magic.
"See you on the other side, my friend," the Dark Lord said, hope in his voice.
"I shall be there, my lord," the dark elf replied, equally hopeful. Both smiled and pointed their wands at themselves.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" they both intoned, green light coming out of their wands and hitting themselves in the chest. However, they did not die. They felt a great pain take hold of them, as if they were being ripped apart, and found themselves watching their own bodies wither and become dust, only to be quickly vanished by the winds that lifted in the room. They, or their souls, as the Dark Lord theorized, were in excruciating pain, as they too were ripped from existence and absorbed by the blood-powered rune cluster. The last thing the Dark Lord saw before everything became a void was a blue-eyed, blonde beauty.