*~Not Quite A Victory~*

Hello there, everyone! This is The Amazing Snorkack, here with what so far will be a preview of a fanfic on FictionAlley.org I am currently making… but I haven't abandoned Second War! The chapter will be up sooner than soon. Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy the blood, angst, killing, and swearing that makes this fic my favorite of all the ones I've done… although this is only the prologue. More Evil!Harry later… on FictionAlley, or if ya'll like it I can put it up on FF.net at the same time. And the title might change between websites, or on both.

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~ Prologue ~



"Look out!" someone screamed in terror.


The Great Hall erupted with screams and explosions of fiery light. The doors seemed to be sealed shut by a magical locking spell which burned people's hands if they attempted to escape. The masses of students panicked and crowded around the walls as a dark whirlwind consumed the centre of the room.


The Dark Lord had arrived.


At least two dozen cloaked and masked Death eaters appeared from the massive tornado, magically binding and gagging the students, and attacking those who fought back with painful Dark Magic's. Much of the shouting was cut short as more and more of the students were tied up or knocked out.


Voldemort stepped out of the windstorm almost casually, not even glancing at the dealt-with students. His slitted red eyes had transformed back into the icy blue colour they had originally been, his skin became less pale, and his nose had reappeared. Little by little, the humanity had returned to the greatest evil of the wizarding world, by the flesh, blood, and bone of his revival potion. Once again, he was Tom Riddle.


"Dumbledore, what a surprise to find you here," Voldemort said sarcastically.


The old Headmaster had risen from his chair. The staff drew their wands threateningly, looking over at the students with concern. With a slashing of his wand, Voldemort had snapped the wands of every teacher clean in two.


"There is nothing here for you, Tom," Dumbledore uttered. He laid both pieces of his wand on the table in front of him and continued to stare at the Dark Lord with both coldness and hostility. "No one stands in your way now but me."


Several muffled screams and gasps came from the students bound with magical ropes and gags.


"You are becoming soft in the head, old fool," scoffed Voldemort. "Harry Potter is most certainly alive within the protection of these walls; I can feel him coming closer to us as we speak. Now, if you will excuse me, I will simply rid myself of yet another annoyance. . .you."


He raised his wand slowly, savouring the moment. Dumbledore made no move to stop him from the inevitable. "I suggest you do not do this, Tom," Dumbledore advised.


Voldemort gritted his teeth and growled. "Avada Kedavra!"


The doors of the Great Hall ripped off their hinges and collapsed onto several Death Eaters who had been biding their time in front of them.


The sound of Albus Dumbledore's lifeless body hitting the floor, and the cries of the staff as they looked on were swallowed up by the echoing bang of the doors. Harry Potter was framed in front of them, his expression of malevolence obscured by flickering torches. He twirled a wand between his fingers that was evidently not his own.


"Leave now, Tom Riddle. Or die."


The Dark Lord cackled. "You think one of your pathetic threats will scare me off? I think I can force you to give me the Green Flame Torch here and now without so much as an Imperius Curse on you."


"I said leave!" Harry stopped twirling the wand, so everyone could see what it looked like. It was carved with a ruby-eyed and emerald-eyed snake interweaving with each other up to the tip, which was both snake's heads pressed against each other, pointing up. It almost screamed Dark Magic Artifact. It began to change shape, forming a snake-entwined torch burning with an unnaturally green flame that reflected Harry's eye colour.


Several gagged students appeared at Voldemort's feet, kicking and trying to escape. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, writhing in their bonds. Voldemort leaned over Hermione first, his wand scraping across her neck like a knife.


"Bring me the Torch, or they each die in turn. Mudblood first, of course."


He saw Hermione's eyes widen as she shook her head. He knew they would die for him, but he couldn't let them get killed. Especially not. . . . especially not Luna. She was his girlfriend now, the only person he in which could confide his deepest secrets and fears. Without her, he was sure he would fall apart.


Every step Harry took echoed off the stone walls. The entire time his scar was burning to the point of making his eyes water. He felt unaware of the many eyes following him; only his four friends there mattered for the moment.


He held out the torch, which had shrunk back into the intricate wand again. End first, of course. "Free everyone in this room, or you lose and I'll snap the Torch in half before you can kill me."


"As you wish." The ropes and gags that bound every one of the students vanished. Most of them hurried out of the room and to the illusory safety of their Common Rooms. Luna, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione hurried away in different directions, massaging their wrists and mouthing "no" at Harry silently. He shook his head slightly. They all regrouped behind him.


"Harry, don't do this," Luna whispered in his ear. Her large hoop earrings jangled as she moved next to his shoulder.


"I have a plan. Trust me," he reassured her quietly.


"Potter, give me the Torch."


"Sure," he breathed. He sauntered over to the centre of the room. Voldemort extended a long-fingered hand. Harry's eyes darted back and forth nervously as he held out the Torch. He kept his expression very calm and made sure that not even one muscle tensed, so he did not ruin the surprise of his next move.


Just as Voldemort wrapped his hand around the weapon, his groin was met by Harry's spike-bottomed Quidditch cleat. He doubled over, while Harry pulled the Torch neatly out of his grasp.


"I always knew keeping a straight face would come in handy," Harry grinned. "Now, Tom, how about you and I duel? Winner takes all."


"You'll curse the day you were born when I'm through with you!" Voldemort hissed. "Malonocturno!"


For a second, Harry didn't know what hit him.


Then he realized that Voldemort had successfully landed a blinding and deafening curse on him. He easily cancelled it out with the magical powers of the Green Flame Torch, ducking as he watched a fatal green jet of light whip over his hair as his senses returned.


"Petrificus Arborum!" Hundreds of roots and vines shot up from between the cracks in the stone floor, rendering Voldemort temporarily helpless. His arms and legs had been entwined by the plants, until he cut himself loose with a knife spell. The vegetation withered and died almost as quickly as it had been summoned.


Voldemort and Harry were now edging around in a very wide circle, watching, waiting for the other's move.


Harry made the deadly mistake of looking away from Voldemort, just for a second. He caught a glimpse of Luna and the others looking on fearfully, his last true and definitely real memory.


"No. . . look out!" his instincts screamed.


"Crucio!" Voldemort cried triumphantly. He was right on target.


"AUUUUGGHHH!!!"


Harry couldn't see, couldn't feel, couldn't breathe. Every inch of his body was afire with the most excruciating pain imaginable, if there was such an imagination to conceive it. He knew he should be bleeding by now. He could almost sense that his blood vessels would burst, and white-hot needles were burrowing themselves deep into his skin to draw the scarlet substance. And yet no blood came.


A horrible sense of calm suddenly dawned on him amid the agony. His pain-clogged senses returned with screaming filling his ringing ears and blood rolling in dark droplets down his lower lip. His upper canine teeth had ripped the skin of his lips open as they bit straight down. He lay convulsing on his side, eyes wide in confusion.


His left eye began twitching. A tic. He felt bruised all over now, mostly because he'd been rolling around during the curse across scuffed stone floors. He was thankful there wasn't any more punctured skin, although moments ago he had been perfectly convinced there was blood gushing from all parts of him. Odd.


He clambered to his feet, slowly, showing no signs of weakness. He felt in control again, the same way he hadn't when the curse was over. How long was he under it? Ten, maybe fifteen seconds? That just didn't seem right.


He glanced at his friends again. Hermione was crying onto Ron's shoulder, while he tried to comfort her. Luna and Ginny were both making horrified faces in his direction. Had he died and become a ghost? He looked and felt pretty solid, but maybe it was different when you were the ghost.


Where's Voldemort?


Harry tightened his fist around nothing.


Where's the Torch!?


"Looking for your precious Torch, Potter?" Voldemort asked quietly. Harry's head snapped around. The intricate wand was now being held by Harry's archrival pointing directly between Harry's eyes.


"Yes, in fact, I was," Harry smiled weakly. "Thanks for finding it for me."


"I don't think I will return it that soon. I'm afraid it's my turn to have a little fun with you now."


"That is exactly what I was afraid of."


"But let's start by killing off each of your friends one by one. . . ."


"You wouldn't dare," Harry growled. He narrowed his eyes. Voldemort merely smiled and pointed the wand at Luna.


"Avada Kedavra!"


"LUNA! NO!" Harry cried hoarsely. He tried to run to her, but found his feet stuck to the floor. "FUCK! FUCK THIS!"


He knew it was too late. Luna was dead before she hit the ground. Harry could find no other emotion but hatred toward the evil bastard who insisted on making his life so miserable. He grabbed his ankles tightly with his hands and began to think to himself, "FINITE INCANTATEM! FINITE INCANTATEM!"


Miraculously, he felt his feet move again. Wandless magic was a talent that he just barely had. It was easier to use in times of crisis. But he had only one thought on his mind; to kill.


He lunged, taking the Dark Lord by surprise. Harry wrestled the Torch out of the Dark Lord's grasp. Pointing it at his adversary's throat, he muttered the last words Voldemort would ever hear.


"Avada Kedavra, you bastard."


~ End Prologue ~