A/N- Luna Lobo is a real character. I bestow 20 points on whoever can guess
who he/she is. (Hint- it is not Luna Lovegood.)
------------------- The final day of the second week, right before the time when Potter usually passed out Potter whispered "Darkness is my Deliverance," and it began to rain a black rain. -------------------
Every drop that hit Potter transformed him. Clothes shrank, muscles grew, hair tamed, colors changed. When the transformation was complete, Potter was barely recognizable. His muscles had nearly doubled in size. He had grown to a respectable size. His hair was short, controlled and spiked black with gold tips. A tattoo had appeared all down the length of his arm, a black serpent with golden eyes. In truth, he was quite an imposing figure. His new clothes fit his new form. He wore a simple black shirt that was as light as air. Over the shirt was a silver vest with a crown with a black lightning bolt down it. His pants were black with a gold stripe that elongated as it traveled down the side of his pants. But none of this was as frightening as his scar. It had turned completely black. Blacker than midnight, blacker than Voldemort's soul. Eyes are the window to the soul, but for my Lord it is his scar that reveals the most about him.
Lord Potter smirked down at the worthless piece of slime that went by the name Vernon Dursley. "Hello, muggle. What do you think of me now? Hit me now, muggle. Get your gun, shoot me. No? Well, you had your chance. Call your miserable wife and worthless son. It is time for the true Lord of this household to take his rightful place." Dursley found himself unable to speak. "Muggle call them or lose your tongue." "P..P....Petunia, D...Dudley? C...come here please." "Very good, Muggle, I see you possess a brain cell. Good, I can't have mute servants. That would take all the fun out of torturing them."
"What is it, Vernon, you sounded positively terrified?"
"Yeah, Dad, what's...? WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?"
"My dear servant, don't you recognize your master?" It was at this point that Vernon Dursley finally found his drunken courage.
"Harry, how dare you talk to my son that way, you FREAK!!!?"
"If you ever speak to me that way again I WILL kill you. As it is you will merely be punished." My Lord held his hand open and a knife floated into it. He saw the filth's eyes gazing fearfully at it. "Don't worry my servant, I will not touch you with this knife." He handed the knife. "Woman, stab the Muggle or the Boy dies." Petunia looked at her husband and her son. "Don't worry, Woman, I told him he wouldn't die. I am a man of my word. Stab him in the chest. He will live." Vernon looked pleadingly into her eyes, begging her not to without saying a word. My Lord grew impatient. "Woman, why do you hesitate? Surely, you don't wish for the Boy to die? Very well, but it was you who condemned him." At this moment the knife found its sheath in the Muggle's chest. "Well, Muggle remove that unsightly knife from your chest. I won't kill you now, but if you don't remove the knife you will die." Dursley, screaming all the while, pulled the knife from his chest. He bled profusely from that gaping wound. "Weakling. You don't deserve this, but I can't have you die from blood lose can I?" At this point my master placed his hand, which was cover with a black flame, over the wound and it closed. "Muggle, aren't you doing to thank your Master?"
"Th... Thank you master."
"Excellent. Now, I, in my generosity, have decided to let you worthless pieces of filth live. In exchange you will all be my servants until death. Do you agree to my generous terms?" said my master, whilst a smirk played upon his features. All the muggles nodded. "Excellent." My master reached out and placed a finger on their head starting with the Man, then the Woman, and, last, the Boy. His mark, the same one that was on his vest, appeared on their foreheads. The spell was like Imperio, except impossible to rebel against. It gives the cursed control over their actions, yet they are unable to obey a direct order. "Woman, make me lunch. Boy, set the table. Muggle, just get out of my sight. You make me sick."
And thus it continued until August 25th. At this time Harry left the Dursleys with these instructions, "Make the gas leak, then, when the house is full of gas light a match. Then, go to hell, literally."
------------------- The final day of the second week, right before the time when Potter usually passed out Potter whispered "Darkness is my Deliverance," and it began to rain a black rain. -------------------
Every drop that hit Potter transformed him. Clothes shrank, muscles grew, hair tamed, colors changed. When the transformation was complete, Potter was barely recognizable. His muscles had nearly doubled in size. He had grown to a respectable size. His hair was short, controlled and spiked black with gold tips. A tattoo had appeared all down the length of his arm, a black serpent with golden eyes. In truth, he was quite an imposing figure. His new clothes fit his new form. He wore a simple black shirt that was as light as air. Over the shirt was a silver vest with a crown with a black lightning bolt down it. His pants were black with a gold stripe that elongated as it traveled down the side of his pants. But none of this was as frightening as his scar. It had turned completely black. Blacker than midnight, blacker than Voldemort's soul. Eyes are the window to the soul, but for my Lord it is his scar that reveals the most about him.
Lord Potter smirked down at the worthless piece of slime that went by the name Vernon Dursley. "Hello, muggle. What do you think of me now? Hit me now, muggle. Get your gun, shoot me. No? Well, you had your chance. Call your miserable wife and worthless son. It is time for the true Lord of this household to take his rightful place." Dursley found himself unable to speak. "Muggle call them or lose your tongue." "P..P....Petunia, D...Dudley? C...come here please." "Very good, Muggle, I see you possess a brain cell. Good, I can't have mute servants. That would take all the fun out of torturing them."
"What is it, Vernon, you sounded positively terrified?"
"Yeah, Dad, what's...? WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?"
"My dear servant, don't you recognize your master?" It was at this point that Vernon Dursley finally found his drunken courage.
"Harry, how dare you talk to my son that way, you FREAK!!!?"
"If you ever speak to me that way again I WILL kill you. As it is you will merely be punished." My Lord held his hand open and a knife floated into it. He saw the filth's eyes gazing fearfully at it. "Don't worry my servant, I will not touch you with this knife." He handed the knife. "Woman, stab the Muggle or the Boy dies." Petunia looked at her husband and her son. "Don't worry, Woman, I told him he wouldn't die. I am a man of my word. Stab him in the chest. He will live." Vernon looked pleadingly into her eyes, begging her not to without saying a word. My Lord grew impatient. "Woman, why do you hesitate? Surely, you don't wish for the Boy to die? Very well, but it was you who condemned him." At this moment the knife found its sheath in the Muggle's chest. "Well, Muggle remove that unsightly knife from your chest. I won't kill you now, but if you don't remove the knife you will die." Dursley, screaming all the while, pulled the knife from his chest. He bled profusely from that gaping wound. "Weakling. You don't deserve this, but I can't have you die from blood lose can I?" At this point my master placed his hand, which was cover with a black flame, over the wound and it closed. "Muggle, aren't you doing to thank your Master?"
"Th... Thank you master."
"Excellent. Now, I, in my generosity, have decided to let you worthless pieces of filth live. In exchange you will all be my servants until death. Do you agree to my generous terms?" said my master, whilst a smirk played upon his features. All the muggles nodded. "Excellent." My master reached out and placed a finger on their head starting with the Man, then the Woman, and, last, the Boy. His mark, the same one that was on his vest, appeared on their foreheads. The spell was like Imperio, except impossible to rebel against. It gives the cursed control over their actions, yet they are unable to obey a direct order. "Woman, make me lunch. Boy, set the table. Muggle, just get out of my sight. You make me sick."
And thus it continued until August 25th. At this time Harry left the Dursleys with these instructions, "Make the gas leak, then, when the house is full of gas light a match. Then, go to hell, literally."