Summary:

"Once, the Lord of Light banished Dark, and all that stemmed from humanity. And men assumed a fleeting form. These are the roots of our world. Men are props on the stage of life, and no matter how tender, how exquisite. A lie will remain a lie! Young apprentice, knowing this, what choice will you make?"

The world is filled to the brim with mysteries older than history that are better left undiscovered. And the world is big, too big for a single person. How good he isn't alone.

Harry Potter was the typical eleven-year-old boy. But then came the night of July 31, 1988, and the fate of the world was unveiled.

ENDGAME PAIRING UNDECIDED. NO MULTI OR HAREM

This is no rewrite, rather a reboot. Why? The old version sucked. For more information check the AN.

Harry Potter: Rise of Darkness - The First Sin

The dream started just like any other time;

Darkness. Nothing but thick, suffocating darkness.

And then… light. Like a beam of sunshine. Alone, strayed away from its brethren, but it still found its way through the dark clouds. Colors emerged from nowhere, creating the image of a landscape.

A mountain towered on the horizon, so huge it nearly touched the heavens. It dominated the scenery, impossible to miss. Trees, green landscapes, white masses of snow. All this could have graced the mountain. Instead, bare stones on the dead ground would be the only thing to be found. Of the trees, once tall and mighty, nothing but burned stumps remained. Yet their ashes were still to stain the mountain. As if neither wind nor rain could undo this disgrace of nature. No life was to exist in this rocky desert, only rotting corpses from times long forgotten.

So it was to no one's surprise that the mountain felt different. Wrong. For if you just looked long enough, a shiver would run down your spine.

After all, the mountain was bathed in a pale red light that appeared as if waterfalls of blood were crashing down from its top.

And yet, none of this was to be found in the foreground of the image.

A castle that was built under the might of the mountain, and buried under its shadow, took up most of the frozen vision of the past. Its walls were made of an unnatural polished white that glowed even in the dark. But was it a castle or a church? It was hard, perhaps even impossible to tell. However it may be, it definitely was a monument of human skill. It's architecture, its design. Ethereal.

A bell, massive and weighing more than a few tons, was to be found on its most southern tower. It wasn't in motion, as if it was frozen in time, but its chimes were still as clear as day.

Two more towers could be made out. One bigger than the other. But on a hill, another building was located. A cathedral. Grand, imposing, and dark. Even the red light shied away - as if it was terrified of whatever may lurk in there.

However, something else was amiss. For the most northern tower, the one behind the cathedral was shattered into a million pieces. As if an explosion had taken place. Its debris now floated in the air. Still and unmoving. Defying gravity. And directly above the now shattered tower, a dark rift up in the sky closed itself again.

All the while, two figures ran away from the white castle, not even bothering to spare the blood-red moon a single glimpse. It sparkled brilliantly as if it laughed in sinister amusement.

And just before Harry Potter was to wake up again, white and black flames that craved to quench an insatiable hunger devoured all and everything.

The First Sin

Chapter 1: Black Flames

Rezurex

July 31, 1988

4 Privet Drive

"He should have just stayed at home," were the first thoughts of one Harry Potter as he once again nearly stumbled and fell over the wet and muddy ground. It was his eleventh birthday, a day he should have celebrated, however, nature had other thoughts. It was the talk of the neighborhood, perhaps even the entire country.

On this morning, as Harry Potter, the more or less adopted son of Vernon and Petunia Dursley was walking to school, an earthquake had occurred out of the blue. The ground had quaked, buildings had trembled and a house was leveled to the ground. All that was left of it was a huge hole in the earth.

It shouldn't have been his concern, he was but a child. However, the entire neighborhood was running around in panic, though, not one had so much as glanced towards the hole. If he remembered right, not even one had seemed to notice the glaring hole right beside them. If that wasn't a big enough clue, the soft anguished cries of someone were enough of a reason to at least peek into the hole.

How surprised he was when he actually made out one-half of a girl his age. The other half, her legs, were buried under debris. Being a child, Harry of course started running down towards the bottom of the hole, towards the girl lying under the debris. He didn't ponder long about whether to go and call for help. He just threw himself into the action to do as much as he could. Was it a rash decision? Perhaps. But who was to judge? For he was young and naive. He was eleven years old.

Harry was only halfway down, and he could clearly see the now unmoving girl when it suddenly happened. Where before nothing but debris and mud had been, now stood a tall and imposing man. He was dressed in nothing but black. A long cloak covered his entire body, and his face was hidden by a mask just as black, but decorated with countless golden lines. The mask appeared to have been shattered times ago, only to be put together again.

However, most stunning was his sudden appearance. It made Harry come to a halt, as he blinked his eyes in confusion, while his brain did its best to draw a rational conclusion. But it was a futile attempt, for he had seen the truth with his own eyes. His eyes had never lied to him before. The man had appeared out of nowhere. He had shimmered into existence. But how was this possible?

The man pointed something wooden, a stick perhaps, at the debris. He spoke a word, too quiet for Harry to understand, but he could still feel that something was off. It wasn't a normal word. It was different… felt different. As if it possessed power. No, as if it was power. For his hairs stood up on his arms, and something along a tingling spread through him.

The debris soared into the air like they were pulled by invisible strings, and Harry could now clearly see the figure of the girl. She was unmoving, hopefully just unconscious, and bled slightly from several wounds. Aside from this, the girl actually seemed to be fine. As fine as someone who is buried by an entire house can hope to be.

He took a long-needed breath, and relief filled him. However, it was not enough to let him forget these more than strange ongoings. His parents, or rather the Dursleys, had always told him to stay away from anything strange. And he didn't remember any word other than "strange" that could hope to describe the current events. But something inside him felt at ease. It yearned to touch, to feel, to experience that power.

However, before he was able to make any decision, the stranger had lifted the girl. The man turned around, and for just a moment, their eyes met, and then he was gone as silently as he had appeared. Leaving nothing behind but a boy wondering what he had seen and felt seconds ago.

Harry returned home early. It was no wonder, the earthquake had taken everyone by surprise and his principal had declared the school closed for the coming days. His cousin, the three years younger Dudley Dursley, was in a euphoric mood. He was running more than he had ever run in his life, and if Petunia hadn't opened the door fast enough, he would have run through the door. It was fear perhaps. Fear that the principal might reconsider and change her earlier decision.

Harry's thoughts, however, were nowhere close. His mind drifted around this day's morning. Around this wonderful feeling he had felt. How his hair stood up on his arms, how this… tingling spread through him, and the warmth that filled his being. He had felt at ease, as if something he had long lost, had finally returned to him. Harry knew that he should feel concerned for the girl. She was taken by a complete stranger, "perhaps her dad," Harry reasoned. Or perhaps he should be panicking, for someone had just appeared and disappeared before his very eyes. But he couldn't bring himself to feel something akin to it. It was as if his body, his nature, instinctively knew that everything was right. But how?

"Hey, kid."

Harry was thrown out of his pondering by a nearby voice. He turned and saw a mailman standing in front of him. The mailman opened his bag and brought a pair of letters to light.

"One for you, and another for your uncle. If you could tell your parents that I'm sorry for the delay, but the earthquake made a mess out of everything, yeah? Have a good day kid, and stay safe."

And Harry Potter was left standing alone again, with the mailman already on his way to the next house. All he had were two new letters now. He of course knew that there was something called "secrecy of correspondence", but his uncle would surely understand.

The first letter was, who would have thought, addressed to his uncle, and his interest dwindled at record speeds. However, as he caught sight of the second letter, his eyes grew double their size, and a surprised but huge smile formed on his face.

"I got it, I actually got it. The acceptance letter has arrived!"

Harry ran more than overjoyed into the house and straight to the living room, where his aunt was currently cooking. She was of course taken by surprise, as her nephew held a letter to her face. But after her eyes had taken in the words, she too showed a smile, which was rather rare, especially when directed to him.

"The Smeltings Academy, a school for our upstanding folk". His aunt seemed to shudder for a moment, before she followed with the question; "Did any other letter arrive for you today?"

"No," answered Harry, causing her to now look deep into his emerald green eyes. It seemed as if she was searching for even the slightest flicker of a lie before she sighed in relief.

"Harry. I'm proud of you in so many ways. How about you go outside before we all eat together to celebrate this day?"

The latter's smile got even larger, and he did as he was told.

Harry left the house through the backdoor with his smile still on his face, and his thoughts having forgotten their earlier turmoil. He dropped into his favorite chair, the one where he had always felt at ease. And then he did nothing but relax while enjoying the well-kept state of the garden. It was a beautiful view, partly thanks to him. His aunt and uncle had shown him how to mow the lawn, or how to take care of the many wonderful-looking flowers years ago. They had told him that if he wanted to stand on his own two feet one day as the upstanding folk did, all this knowledge would be essential. He of course didn't do everything on his own. He only did the "light-lifting" as his uncle never forgot to emphasize. But he was still more than proud of his achievements.

He lifted his gaze towards the sky and had to conclude that today was a really beautiful day. It was a typical summer day. Blue skies, blazing sunshine, and of course wasps, always buzzing through the air and trying to ruin your time. Yet it was a great day. He got accepted into the academy, and school was canceled for today. How could a day ever be better than this?

However, as he sat on the chair and had nothing better to do than stare into the cloudless sky, his elation dwindled. For he was becoming bored, and a certain memory fought for attention in the back of his mind.

Harry began to sweat, as the heat got more and more intense. It became hot, unbearably hot. Breathing became harder as he struggled for air. His hair stood up, and he was unable to stop his hands from shaking. A strange tingling spread through his body, and he felt the need to scratch himself. As if thousands of wasp stings were all over his body. He took off his shirt in the hopes of relieving himself of the heat, yet it was futile.

His vision blurred for a moment as his eyes glazed over, and he fell off the chair. He landed on the soft grass, yet his attention was elsewhere. On the tingling that spread through him, the warmth that filled his being, and on his hairs that stood up. He knew this. He had experienced this. On this morning, when the stranger did this unexplainable, near-magical stuff. Was there any meaning to why he felt like this again?

Harry lifted his gaze from the grass. He let his eyes wander around the garden, taking in everything that he could see. The blooming flowers, the many big and small stones adorning the outer bounds of the garden, and of course the trees.

"Wait", thought Harry all of the sudden. "The stones."

He had felt this… tingling becoming stronger as he had looked at one specific stone. And as his gaze returned to this stone, Harry felt it again. He started to crawl towards the stone, like a thirsting man seeing a lake in the desert. The stone was grey and white, a bit bigger than the typical stone, yet just as unremarkable as a stone could ever hope to be.

As his hand finally touched the stone, a shudder went through his body. All his negative thoughts, his worries, melted from him once again. The world was at ease, and Harry Potter felt like a newborn in the hands of their mother. His entire being wished for nothing more than for this feeling to last forever. He stayed like this and bathed in this cloud of pure bliss. However, with each passing second, this heavenly feeling dwindled, until it was nothing more than a shadow and a feeble afterthought. All the problems of the world crashed back into him, and he was left with nothing.

His breaths were slow and raspy, yet his thoughts were in turmoil. All centered on this desire for more; to regain this feeling of bliss. It had felt so good, so blissful, so… right. As if something he had long lost, had finally returned to him. But now it was nearly gone once again!

Sudden desperation soared through his body. A need for more. He knew that there had to be more of whatever this was. He didn't know how he could have been so blind for all these years. His left hand touched the stone now too, and there it was. A small flicker of a tingle once again spread through his body. But there was more. And then he saw true. Whatever it was had to be under the stone.

He tried to lift the stone, but even as he gave all he had, he didn't possess the strength to move it. It was as if the stone was stuck to the ground.

But then his memories returned to this day's morning. To the strange man in black that had lifted the debris without batting an eye. It had soared in the air as if pulled by invisible strings. Was it that "power"?

"It had to be," thought Harry.

He stared at the stone.

"Up"

Nothing happened.

His brow furrowed in confusion. Perhaps he did something wrong. The strange man hadn't said any words, but he did use some kind of… stick? Was that what he was missing?

Yet he once again felt a tingling in his hands, as if whatever it was encouraged him to continue, to not lose hope. But Harry understood nothing.

He didn't get how it was possible for a stone to float, to begin with. He had vivid memories of one of his teachers explaining to them how something called gravity had worked. She had taken an apple and allowed it to fall to the ground. A law of nature was what she called it.

But then how did all this make even an ounce of sense?

"Perhaps that's the point," pondered Harry. "It doesn't have to make any sense. The important thing is that I have seen someone defying gravity. So it has to be possible."

Harry once again felt another tingling, as if whatever it was once again tried to tell him that he was on the right path. He chose to trust the tingling in his chest. He focused on it, on the warmth in his body, and on this feeling of familiarity. He closed his eyes and tried to push away everything, but these feelings. His heart began to beat faster and faster, and his forehead was drenched in sweat. He concentrated one last time, now also including his goal. To move the stone away. He imagined the stone beginning to float, and he could feel the tingling and the warmth intensifying. Harry opened his eyes… and the stone was still where it was.

Disappointment. Frustration. Rage.

Harry felt all these emotions as his body shook and trembled, and he let out a scream. His body was almost boiling with rage, the magnitude of which he didn't even know he was capable of. His right hand formed a fist and he struck the stone without giving it a second thought. How surprised he was when instead of hurting himself, the stone shattered into a million pieces. Harry had time enough to see an eruption of light before his eyes, that bathed the world into a beautiful, perhaps even ethereal light before everything went black.

July 31, 1988

4 Privet Drive

11 PM

The sun had long since set, but Vernon Dursley was still awake. He stood alone in the living room and looked outside in the garden. It had been another long and stressful day for him. The company had of course too many problems and worries to manage all in the little time he had. The unsuspected earthquake that had rattled 4 Privet Drive to the bone, had of course not improved anything. However, on top of everything else, his nephew, the Potter boy, had gotten his acceptance letter today. It should have made him feel relieved, and yes, he was relieved when he got the call from his wife. All his worries and thoughts had appeared to have been for nothing.

The mixture of hard work, a strict hand, as well as support and acceptance had apparently done its job. Although these abnormal people had already told him of the boy's apparent sickness and inability, he had always been cautious. For you could never be sure enough. Especially if you dealt with something so wrong like this.

However, it all evaporated when he saw the boy lying unconscious on the grass. Next to him was a stone two times the size of a football, shattered into a million pieces. His face was smeared with dirt and sweat, and his breaths were long and raspy as if he had run a marathon under the burning sun.

Vernon, of course, already smelled that something was off. For one, you don't just fall flat to the ground, and he would eat his own words if the boy had gotten a heat stroke. Second, how could anyone even start to explain the stone thingy? It was broken into a million pieces, not something you can do with your bare fists. Lastly, the boy, his nephew, had had something in his hands. It had looked similar to some kind of crystal.

And here it was that his problems began. For he had seen with his very eyes how some bright light went out of the crystal and into the body of his nephew. He had stormed forwards and got him out of danger. However, now, as his sudden panic had dwindled, his worries once again returned as strong, maybe even stronger than on that fateful day. It was Petunia who had convinced him of taking the boy in. He had seen a shimmer of empathy in her eyes when they had been enlightened of the boy's past and fate.

But now… It seemed as if all had changed. The boy was obviously not like them. But did that have to mean that he was like his family?

Vernon shook his head. How was he to know what to do?

He took his nephew's letter in his hand, turned, and headed to the stairs to finally get some rest too. The manager first came across his son's room. The door was closed, but even so, he could hear his loud snoring sounds. It made him chuckle quietly as his thoughts drifted to his son. What he would probably do in the future? Maybe he would start in his company, play a sports professional or do something completely different. There were so many possibilities. But Vernon vowed, as he had so many times before, that he would stand by his son wherever his path might lead.

The next door was open. It was the one that led to his nephew's room. It was a bit smaller than Dudleys but looked nearly the same. His nephew was as sound asleep as his son, and he was about to close the door when a strong breeze blew the curtains at the open window inward.

Vernon stood rooted on the spot as his eyes followed the single ray of moonlight that shone into the room. It went through the opened windows, till it found its end on his nephew's face. The soft moonlight was the only light source in the otherwise dark room. However, Vernon's heart stopped beating as he became aware of its color. It was a deep red, nearly a crimson-red.

It shone brighter with every second and bathed the room in a crimson-red shadow. The light left nothing untouched as it spread over the room inch by inch. It crawled over the ceiling, and appeared to slowly trickle off the walls to the ground as if it was alive.

Vernon was all the while unable to move even a single muscle. Instead, he found himself in absolute panic, as he could do nothing but watch. For his mind instinctively connected the color to a single thing. Blood.

The light had by now nearly reached Vernon Dursley. It was only a few inches away from his feet, as it stalked and surrounded him like a beast does its prey.

His eyes had all the while a life of their own. They rushed from one spot to the next, desperately searching for a way out, but finding none. So it was only a matter of time till he looked outside for the first time. And as he did, a loud gasp of disbelief escaped him and he forgot how to breathe. For the moon wasn't a bright circle with the white and black patterns anymore. Instead, it was illuminated in a crimson-red light that appeared to trickle down from the moon onto earth, like a frozen waterfall. A waterfall of blood.

It left him transfixed, as his eyes glazed over, and his body shuddered. His mouth dropped open, as he openly gaped and his nephew's acceptance letter fell out of his hand. It landed on the ground, where the crimson-red light instantly descended upon it. The letter began to bleed and burn, as a red liquid formed on the ground and became ever bigger, until nothing but ashes were left.

Harry Potter, who had been fast asleep until now, suddenly tossed and turned in his bed. One of his hands rested on his chest as if to protect his heart, while he thrashed around with his right hand almost as if to drive an unseen foe away. His mouth formed unknown words, and his body shook violently when all of a sudden white and black flames burst out of his hands. They descended upon everything as they devoured the ground, the bed, and the furniture. It was an inferno. Nothing was left spared. Everything burned in white and black flames.

The flames descended upon the many plants. They decayed, as each leaf withered away, till nothing remained but some ashes. Yet the flames rushed further, hungrily devouring everything in their path. They spread over the room at a rate unseen before, and unlike any ordinary fire. They descended upon the pictures on the walls, the walls itself, and upon Vernon Dursley. The latter still stared like in a hypnotic trance towards the red moon. He never registered the white and black flames, until the pain started.

They rushed through him at a moment's notice, and glowed for just a second in a brilliant, ethereal light, before the father dropped dead to the ground.

His mouth was still open.

And the flames exploded, devouring all and everything in 4 Privet Drive…

An old headmaster of a magical school sat alone in his dark office. Before him was a picture of a smiling family. A tall man with hazel eyes, glasses, and untidy black hair. A woman with thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, and almond-shaped, bright green eyes. Last but not least, two smiling babies. The first one was four years old, and the other had just experienced his very first year on this wonderful earth.

However, life was many things at the moment, but not wonderful. His fingers tensed around the glass of liquor. He knew that he could trace the bottle back to 1939, and he remembered that he had vowed to never open it again. However, as things had turned out now, he couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

His thoughts drifted back to the day when he had stood in the destroyed room and had made a decision. Had it been a wise one? Should he have listened to his grieving soul that yearned for forgiveness and redemption? However, he knew then, as he did now, that forgiveness was no longer within his reach. But then why had he chosen that option?

He had never allowed himself any such feelings. Instead, he had imprisoned his heart in a chest of iron, buried in a web of lies and half-truths. So he was able to do what was necessary and not what was right.

He was certain that he could have done the necessary thing. All he had to do was return to the lessons he had been taught in his youth. To his roots. But that was a line he wasn't about to cross.

The old headmaster sighed.

It was too late to ponder about what laid in the past. The end result stayed the same.

He raised his glass in a silent toast.

Perhaps it was for the better.

.

.

.

.

No other soul mourned the death of Harry Potter.

AN:

Me again. I know, this is not what you thought, perhaps you also completely forgot me. Whatever the case, I'm back.

I was inactive because of real life. I know, really surprising, but yeah.

I started to revisit this story a month ago, and also checked the comments again, and found myself agreeing with a lot of things. I gave many oc's too much time, and all in all, the split between Hogwarts and Harry was unnecessary.

The improved version won't have any chapters about Adam or the other Malfoy brother. The latter is, spoiler, completely cut. I changed many things, which you should have noticed at this point, so don't go and skip all the chapters.

It's no rewrite, yes, it will have some similarities, the Arena scene for example, but you get what I say don't you?

I also try to upload once every two weeks. Fingers crossed.

Enjoy the next chapter and don't forget to review!