War, Huh? What Is It Good For? Absolutely Nothing!

by DZ2

I Give Up Response: When Harry returned from the Third Task, there was something really off with him. And not just the fact he's got the traitor to his family in his grip. However, rather than give them the satisfaction of answers, Harry's got two words for them! VERY Dark/Evil Super Harry/Daphne/Astoria; Nice Tom; Motherly Bella;

3. What They Don't Know

War, Huh? What Is It Good For? Absolutely Nothing!

Disclaimer/Plot/Challenge Information/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER

Recommended Reads: Apex by JustBored21, Rise of the Dark Angel by mykkila09, Suns of Death and Darkness by Chakahlah, The Dark Prince: Rebirth by TheDarkLover22, Two Minds, One Wand by RobertWilsonWriting, A Flaw in Fate by 521-DREAM, Serpent's Ascending, Ruined Omega, Riddle's Obsession, Devilish Romance and The Dark Prince's Ascension and The Dark Prince's Coronation by Madriddler, Ascension by PerseusPeverell092 and Child of Azkaban by Fire and Starlight

Key Pairing: Harry/Daphne/Astoria

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

/Parseltongue/

Review Answers:

Edrick Twilight Legend: I'm glad you're enjoying the craziness…sorry…I mean, fun!

Candlewyk: And that was just you reading it; imagine how I felt writing it!

"Welcome home, my beautiful boy…and what such lovely homecoming gifts you've provided for us; I couldn't be any prouder of you if I tried, Harry."

In response, Harry nuzzled the woman's chest, melting into her warmth before he smiled, a genuine, accepting smile, as he looked up into the eyes of the woman whom, to many, was known as The World's Most Dangerous Witch, Madame Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I'm glad to see you too…Momma…"

Chapter 3: What They Don't Know

Two Days Earlier

"It's a Portkey!"

"No shit, Sherlock," drawled Harry, one hand on his wand, while the other was clenched tightly into a fist as he looked around the cemetery, having just spent more time than he would have liked in the maze, only to discover the unseen trick hiding in plain sight.

The Triwizard Cup had been a fucking Portkey!

So…what?

Three Tasks that were supposed to be for three Champions weren't enough, were they?

No, because there was a fourth Champion, there had to be a Fourth Task, was that it?

'No,' thought Harry, looking around the dark, foreboding-looking cemetery with a sudden bout of dread, suspicion and alarm as he told himself, 'This has nothing to do with the poorly-named Tri-Wizard Tournament, or those feckless idiots who, even after all I've done to try and survive, still believe I wanted this to begin with. No…this is…something else…some-one else…'

As if Fate was listening, Harry's head snapped around when, while Cedric still laughed like an idiot at the fact that the Triwizard Cup was actually a Portkey – while Harry, the guy younger than him, was using CONSTANT VIGILANCE to make sure he got out of this nuthouse alive – somewhere off in the distance, a door opened, revealing a thin shaft of light.

And a dumpy-looking, snivelling wretch of a figure, the sight of whom made Harry's eyes widen in horror, rage and no small amount of hatred.

Now, it all made sense.

Not that it hadn't done so by now, mind you.

However, because of the very long, very dull and very lacklustre game that he'd been playing with the idiots, Harry had to let on he hadn't even begun to suspect who or what was responsible for all the craziness of the past school year.

And yet, as he saw Cedric finally make his move, not even firing off a spell at the sudden, unknown newcomer – but, instead, much like a certain Scarlet Moron, he let his mouth do the magic for him – Harry felt his lips twitch in brief amusement as he told himself one thing.

'Ah, but do you know what else those sheep are, Harry?'

"Kill the spare!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The green flash of the most-hated curse Harry had ever had the misfortune of learning filled the air, striking down Cedric's body, while Harry's eyes burned in new, stronger rages as he finished his own question with his own answer.

'Not here!'

War

Moments Later

"Bone of the Father…unwillingly given…Flesh of the Servant…willingly…sacrificed…and Blood…of the Enemy…forcibly…taken! The Dark Lord! Will rise! Again!"

With dead eyes, dark ambitions and a feeling of impending release flooding his body, Harry watched as Peter Wormtail Pettigrew finished his obscenely-macabre ritual. The ensuing explosion of fire and Dark Magic almost turned the ritual space into a charbroiled patch of earth, like a wound that would never heal, but rather, fester on the surface of the planet forever.

Meanwhile, Harry saw the thing that Wormtail had dropped into the cauldron rise up, its – or rather, his, as there was no mistaking the identity of the fiend that had been made to rise again – previously-frail, misshapen form rising up from the flames like a phoenix from the ashes where, slowly, but surely, it grew into a pale, chillingly-malefic-looking figure with all the Darkness in the world flowing out of him. Sleek black robes materialised into being around his body, all thanks to the power of the ritual, while Harry also noticed a weird feeling of inevitability wash over him, driving him away from the sight that, in any other time and place, might have given him nightmares for life.

Now, however, he watched the resurrection of Magical Britain's worst nightmare with a thousand-yard stare that only grew darker as he glanced to Wormtail as the Dark Lord Voldemort's apparent revival and restoration to full power reached its climax.

Whether it was the culmination of negative emotions coursing through him, or the fact that Voldemort had taken and used his blood as part of the ritual, or maybe it was because of how his ire was aimed more at the coward who'd been no less than six-fucking-feet from him for three years, Harry didn't know.

But, as he felt the power of the Dark Lord radiate through the cemetery, he found himself unable to care about the return, or the horrors of war and death that were undoubtedly soon to follow this dark night.

The only thing he thought of was something that, for four years now, had been denied to Harry James Potter!

What he wanted!

And what he wanted was…

Suddenly, before Harry could finish that thought, he felt the arms of the gravestone-angel holding him in place loosen, allowing him to tumble to the ground; whether it was Seeker reflexes or sheer dumb luck, he didn't know, but instead of hitting the ground, Harry landed as nimbly as a cat before he rose up, looking to the restored Dark Lord in curiosity and calm interest.

Voldemort, meanwhile, smiled thinly before, gesturing with his wand, he indicated Wormtail, who seemed to be waiting on the word of his master, before he nodded at Harry.

"Do it…"

Harry tensed up; at the same time, hearing the calm, cavalier way that the Dark Lord addressed his Enemy, Wormtail looked more than a little alarmed, as well as curious, as he saw his Lord keeping his eyes fixed on Harry before he spoke again.

"It's all right, Harry…nobody will stop you…not this time…so…do it…you know you want to…"

"M-M-Master?" asked Wormtail, earning a low hiss from Voldemort, who still kept his eyes on Harry as he indicated the rat again.

"Go on, my young friend…let yourself have what you crave most…do it…now!"

The third time, as the old saying went, was the charm.

Suddenly, before Wormtail had a chance to speak out against his Master again, a primal roar of fury, mixed with something that could only be described as soul-wrenching loss and wrathful vengeance, tore out of Harry's lips.

Before the coward had a chance to do the only thing he knew how to do – run and hide like a frightened rodent – he was struck hard, fast and with no small amount of burning ferocity by an emerald-eyed, raven-haired missile, which began laying seven acres of shit and all Nine Circles of Hell into Wormtail as he pounded his fists against the rat's snivelling face.

And yet, instead of helping his servant, the Dark Lord just folded his arms, leaning against one of the nearby headstones as though he was watching his favourite movie and not the bloody, bone-breaking, nerve-snapping punishment that was being unleashed upon his slave.

"YOU! TOOK! EVERYTHING! FROM! ME!" Roared Harry, punctuating each word with another hard, hammer-like fist to the rat's face; at one point, two of Wormtail's teeth broke under the strain, as did his nose, while Harry continued thrashing the rat, "I'M! GOING! TO! MAKE! YOU! PAY! YOU! WILL! NOT! ESCAPE! ME! A! SECOND! TIME! I! PROMISE!"

"NO!" Squealed the rat.

Out of sheer desperation more than anything else, Wormtail reached for the only thing he could manage to touch – Cedric Diggory's now discarded wand – before he slashed it across himself. In response, the rat somehow managed to unleash a ball of fire, which caught Harry's right hand in its elemental fury, earning a cry of rage and pain from Harry as he backed away, cradling his now-burned hand.

Sensing the opportunity, Wormtail went to transform.

However, to his horror, as soon as he reached for the power, his body seized up, accompanied by an all-consuming, overwhelming surge of dark, paralysing magic, the source of which revealed itself seconds later as the last voice Wormtail had expected to hear speaking out against him did so.

"Oh, I don't think so, Wormtail…you have fulfilled your duties to me…now, you are simply…expendable…"

To Wormtail's alarm, the Dark Lord kept his wand trained on the rat before, moving from where he'd been observing Harry laying waste to the rat, Voldemort gently patted Harry on the shoulder before he flicked his wand, pulling Wormtail towards him and the wrathful teenager. Yet, Pettigrew's air of horror only grew when, instead of shivering in dread or whimpering from the tormenting pains of his scar as he had done so many times before, Harry watched with a cold, dark stare as the rat stopped in front of him and Voldemort.

The Dark Lord, meanwhile, flicked his wand again, slashing Wormtail's sleeve open before, without so much as a by your leave, he rammed the tip of his wand straight into Wormtail's flesh, causing the Dark Mark to burn feverishly against the rat's skin. Seconds later, no less than seven trails of familiar, smoky, black magical energy materialised into being in the cemetery, each one accompanied by a silvery mask shaped like a skull-face, as well as the robes and proud postures of all those who wore the masks.

However, instead of releasing Wormtail from the hold of his magic, Voldemort only drove his wand deeper-still, his red eyes shining like the fires of Hades while his lip curled into a sneer. To Wormtail's disbelief, as well as those in the cemetery – sans Harry, who still looked like the only thing he cared for was Wormtail and the satisfaction of having Pettigrew's blood on Harry's hands – an eighth plume of smoke flew through the air, coming from somewhere to the north of the graveyard.

When this smoke was accompanied by a crazed, high-pitched, maniacally-tinged laugh, however, even the Death Eaters already assembled backed away nervously, while Wormtail barely managed to look more-horrified and pleading than he already did as he felt his trousers darken, all thanks to a familiar bodily fluid's sickly stench emanating from his crotch.

Seconds later, the eighth burst hit the ground, before it rose up, materialising into a somewhat-attractive-looking lady whom was dressed in frayed-looking, not to mention faded black-and-white-coloured Azkaban robes. Her hair was wilder than sin while her eyes shone with longing, desire, hope, victory and madness, the sight of which made Wormtail's entire body tremble in the throes of the Dark Lord's power.

This…this betrayal from his master was one thing.

But having to see her again?

This truly was Hell on Earth…well, for Wormtail, it was such.

War

As Harry saw the newcomer appear, without a mask or the robes of the other Death Eaters, he saw Voldemort lower the wand at long last - and yet he still managed to keep Wormtail frozen in place, which only emphasised the legend of the man's magical abilities – before he turned to the newcomer with what looked like a real, genuinely-fond smile on his face.

"Bellatrix…welcome back…" said Voldemort, stroking the hair of the crazy-looking woman, who seemed to purr under his touch before she spoke.

"Master! I knew you couldn't be dead! Such feckless-minded bastards: they all dared to preach your destruction, but I…and my family…and our true believers…we all knew they were lies!"

"Indeed they were, Bellatrix," said Voldemort, stepping past the now-kneeling Bellatrix before, looking to the assembled Death Eaters, he addressed them with an amused tone, "As for the rest of you, I would welcome you back as my friends; however, as is evident by my dear Bellatrix's return to the fold, it seems she is the only member of the Circle whom is truly loyal to our cause."

"My Lord!" gasped a familiar pompous voice, the sound of which made Harry's head snap around; this also allowed Bellatrix to see said youth's eyes burning with fire and vengeance as he glared daggers at the speaker.

Seeing this, even Voldemort chuckled when Bellatrix moved from her kneeled post, to stand with Harry, rising up against him before she gently wrapped her arms around him. To the bewilderment of the Death Eaters, as well as Voldemort's amusement, Harry didn't fight the embrace, but, instead, he leaned into it, closing his eyes while he sighed softly as he felt Bellatrix hold him, her left hand gently stroking his hair while her right hand took his in her grip.

Lifting his right hand to her lips, Bellatrix kissed it softly before she whispered, "Don't worry, little raven: Momma knows it hurts, but when it's ready, Momma will help you make it all better. You're so brave for not even crying, my sweet little lion cub; Momma will give you a very special reward later-on, 'kay?"

"Are you?"

Suddenly, Bellatrix looked down in curiosity and wonder as Harry turned to her, while even Voldemort looked on in confusion as Bellatrix asked the emerald-eyed scion, "Am…am I what, Harrykins?"

"Momma," said Harry and, for a moment, Voldemort actually heard a much-younger Harry's voice in that question, as well as a hint of hope, if not desire, while, unseen by the other Death Eaters – though not Voldemort – Bellatrix also saw Harry's eyes sparkle with unshed tears as he asked her, "Are you really going to be my Momma, Bellatrix? Will you be?"

"Harry…"

Looking from Bellatrix to Voldemort, Harry's eyes seemed to lose their dewey-eyed sparkle, while he also became the more-mature, dark-minded spirit that had just beaten the shit out of Wormtail, and then some, as he addressed the Dark Lord.

"I don't know why you're not torturing me, Tom, and I don't care: I can't believe it took me this long to understand, but, now I do and, because of that, I want you to know that…from now on…I am done with this fight. If you want to take me as a prisoner, keep me as a slave or a message to Dumbledore and the sheep who bleat to his calls, fine! Hell, I'll be food for Nagini if you want…just please, Lord Voldemort! Please just let me be free of it all…"

Before Voldemort could answer, Bellatrix did it for him.

Caressing Harry's cheek, she smiled softly as she kissed his brow before she told him, "Promise me, Harrykins, that this isn't a trick: do that and, as proof of His will, I will become Momma for you…and you will be my beautiful, darkly-delicious little boy…is it a promise?"

"On the graves of my parents and mine," said Harry calmly, looking back to Bellatrix before, once again, the little boy returned as he smiled and nodded in Bellatrix's direction.

"Cross my heart, hope to die, eat a thousand needles if I lie…pinky-promise-song!"

He even linked his smallest finger with Bellatrix's.

Ironically, it was also the burned finger on his right hand, which made Bellatrix gasp as she kissed the wound again before, looking to Voldemort, she smiled softly as she asked him, "Well, my Lord? Is he my son now?"

"And so much more, Bellatrix," said Voldemort, drawing his wand once more before, looking back to his other forces, he chuckled menacingly.

"However, in order to protect the boy, whom, from this day forth…Lucius…is under MY protection…we need to have a little chat about what comes next, for one and all…"

War

Present Day

"My precious little raven…it's all right; you don't have to pretend anymore…Momma's here…"

Like a drug addict who'd gone way too long without his fix, Harry inhaled Bellatrix's scent as he was held in her embrace, her hands weaving their way through his dark hair, petting his cheeks and even patting him on the back as she held onto him, assuring him of how safe he was.

Harry, meanwhile, nuzzled himself against Bellatrix before, turning away from her – though she still kept her arms wrapped around him, her head resting on his shoulder – Harry looked to the amused figure of Lord Voldemort as he asked, "Were you waiting long, Lord Voldemort?"

"Nah," said the Dark Lord, indicating the bound Dursleys as he explained, "Just long enough to get really familiar with your…lovely family, Harry. I must say: I had thought I'd seen ego and vanity in the Weasley brat and his slattern Mother, but this woman…it almost disgusts me to think she is in any related to your Mother…meaning Lily, of course."

"Lily Potter just breathed life into me," said Harry, clasping Bellatrix's hand in his – while she also smiled when she noticed how his hand had been healed since the cemetery – while he kissed it softly as he added, "She might have sacrificed everything for me, but apart from ghosts in pictures and a mirror that drives men crazy anyway, she's nothing to me…neither of them are."

Again, Harry kissed Bellatrix's hand as he explained, "I gave you my unconditional, total surrender, and, in return, you gave me a true Momma in Bellatrix, Lord Voldemort. As far as I'm concerned, I am her child; I'd even let her Blood me into being if it proved it, even to that arsehole, Malfoy."

"Is that what you wish, my beautiful boy?" asked Bellatrix, placing a kiss of her own on Harry's cheek as she held him. "Would you really like to be Momma Bella's baby? Harry Lestrange does have a nice ring to it, after all."

"Not yet, Bellatrix," said Voldemort, earning a saddened look from Bellatrix, while the Dark Lord looked to Harry, who seemed more-apathetic than ever as he went on. "While I applaud your decision, Harry, right now, it is safer, for both you and your family, if you remain a Potter with ties alone to the Black Family. But once the coast is clear, then, Bellatrix, you may make him your son and heir…and all that implies; until then, as I told you in the graveyard. You are to love him, cherish him, let him be a child, even if that means acting like the little boy he never got the chance to be thanks to Albus and these…people here."

While Bellatrix responded positively to that particular order, Voldemort looked again to Harry as he explained, "As for you, Harry; you said you wish to give up, and I believe you. However, for reasons that I will gladly tell you about once we are away from this dreary place, at the same time, it is my desire to keep you close, know you are well and, if I can, help you have anything you wish…it is for this reason, as well as what I know about Bellatrix herself, that I support this new mother-son relationship between you."

"Thank you, Lord Voldemort," said Harry, earning a low chuckle from the Dark Lord.

"To you, Harry, it is Tom…and, to answer your next question, no, you are not going to be marked: as far as our friends know, you are now my ward, my charge and my responsibility. Even Lucius is going to understand that denying you whatever you wish, it is a means of tempting fates much worse than Death. At the same time, I will gladly release Bellatrix, so that she may love, raise and even worship her new son's desires and wants: seriously, my young friend. Ask for anything you wish and Bellatrix and I will move heaven and earth to give it to you…as is evident by how I not only enchanted Wormtail to ignore what happened in the cemetery, but declare him disposable…and so, as a result, Sirius Black is free."

"And I thank you for that, Tom," said Harry, before he looked to Bellatrix, resting his head against hers as he added, "But we both know, as does my Momma here, that, even with his freedom, Sirius will still flock to Dumbledore's cause, especially with the evidence of your return mounting. I also know, thanks to my former friends, that the old coot wants me to acknowledge it, undoubtedly to put myself in Fudge's crosshairs. But I won't: all I want is to live, to laugh, to love, if I can, and be…well, the real me. And, I don't know what it is, exactly, but, ever since you returned, I…I just know that the only…if not, the best way to get that is by putting myself under your standard. So, even if I am not Marked, if you…if you actually want me, Tom…I won't refuse…you have my word."

"And you have mine that the only thing I wish for you is safety, happiness and life, Harry," said Voldemort, looking to Bellatrix as he smiled softly before he added, "And, on that note, Bellatrix: it is getting late. Why don't you take your son home, so that he can fill his belly, wash off the dirt of the day and then have a nice, long, goodnight's sleep?"

"Gladly…Voldemort," said Bellatrix.

Voldemort didn't need to guess why she'd used his name instead of calling him her Lord and Master as she had done so very often before.

Chapter 3 and it looks like we've got our answer: so, either Cedric's death or the truth of the year caused Harry to snap, or he's actually, genuinely, giving in and saying fuck it to what happens next: hmm, which is it?

Also, having renounced anything to do with the reason for his fame, as well as all hatreds aimed at Voldemort and his ilk, exactly what sort of year will Harry have, especially since he isn't putting himself in the crosshairs of those who refuse to see the truth?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Voldemort has a little meeting with someone who needs to learn that actions, and his words, have consequences: also, Bellatrix learns something fun, but interesting about her new child, while Harry discovers a perk to his eagerly-desired freedom;

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