Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, if it was I'd be super rich but I'm not !
A/N: Okay, I don't normally do this sort of thing because I think any sort of Character warning takes the fun away ! But just to pre-empt any sort of disappointment over the development of any character, I'd make this an exception.
The version of Harry you'd find in this story is very much different from canon. Harry was raised a bit differently than in canon, so he developed traits which I believe anyone with his unique perspective will develop in such circumstances. Traits that includes; cynicism, chronic anger issues, ruthlessness, paranoia, to mention a few.
The knowledge of the existence of a whole new world of magic was nice, but the excitement was short lived with the realisation of what could have been. And then things started to spiral out of control, as it's wont to do.
That doesn't make him necessarily evil, however. While his values, ideals and actions are certainly questionable, he is mostly just a boy that was isolated by birth and by his own magic, with dreams bigger than himself and a deep hunger for power and fame borne out of a perceived wrongdoing against his person. So, Harry is not really a monster in this story, he's just a human capable of doing monstrous things.
This story will be updated fortnightly on FFN. The first few chapters will come faster as a teaser for what's to come. After which, early access Chapters will be coming on my patreo/n.
There's also my Discord if you're looking for more of my works or more of Harry / Fleur !
discord . gg / qy3u4xJEFj
The Flames of Death
"Harry! Harry! Wake up!" Something soft and smooth shook his shoulders and Harry opened his eyes.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Hey Sue, when did you get here?"
Harry's eyes roved her almond face, he glanced up and down and smiled.
She is even more beautiful than I remember. Sue's brilliant brown eyes smiled down at him as her body closed the space between them. Her lips crashed against his. Her lustrous brown hair tickled his neck. The taste of chocolate vanished in his mouth, the tip of his tongue traced her lower lip and she pressed her body closer to his chest.
Sue pulled back and inhaled in soft, gasping breaths. Her lips curved into a tiny smirk.
"You have no idea how much I've waited to do this all summer," she whispered.
"Why stop then?" Harry murmured. He pulled her towards him and pressed his lips to hers, her legs on either side of his body. His right hand snaked through the open hem of her corset and his fingers brushed her thighs as silk melted against his forearm.
"Oh Harry!" Sue breathed, pulling back from him. "We can't get carried away right now."
"Why not?" Harry shifted his upper body towards her, closing the space between them.
Sue placed an arm on his shoulder. His back landed on the bed with a soft thump and her face caught him in a searing kiss.
"Michael asked me to wake you up," she said, lifting herself off him. "If we're not out of this tent within the next minute, he'll come to see what's taking so long, and you know Michael."
Of course, he'd tease us senseless about it and probably tell Lisa and Blaise, and they'd join in too. Sue is right though, we can't stay here all day. There are things to be done. Harry groaned as he pushed himself off the bed. He twisted his waist to the sides and stretched his arms.
"That one is new." Sue pointed to the portrait of the bespectacled witch in purple robes hanging on the wall, metres above the purple lectern.
"I only completed it last night." Harry said. "It was why I slept so late."
"She looks familiar." Sue commented, "Have I seen her before?"
"You might have," Harry waved his wand and the bindings drew together, covering the portrait away from view. "She was once Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of Slytherin House; there're quite a few of her portraits scattered around Hogwarts."
"Well, at least she was pretty," Sue said. "Although not as pretty as me, wouldn't you agree?"
She opened the latch to the tent and a mischievous gleam shone in her brown eyes as she stepped aside to let Harry through.
Harry snorted. "Few can boast of beauty as vivid as yours, my love."
Sue's face radiated with pleasure and mirth. "You say the most pleasing things, my darling."
"I can please you with a lot more than just words." Harry purred, closing the distance between them. "You only need to ask."
"There'll be plenty of time to do that later." Sue replied. "You can please me later tonight after the game, I'm all yours."
"I'd be holding you to that promise." Harry replied. He stepped back an inch and smoothed his clothes. Sue extended an arm and Harry slid his palm into hers.
"So where are the rest?" Harry asked. "Have they left for the stands already?"
"Mr Turpin left a minute ago to organise something with Auror Scrimgeour," said Sue. "Lisa and the boys should be around somewhere though."
"Harry! Over here." Michael's blond hair, pale skin and large, pink coat stood out from the flurry of dark-toned cloaks around the stadium.
A snort escaped Harry's nose as he looked his best friend up. "Hey mate, what have I missed?"
Michael jogged up to meet Harry and Sue, Blaise and Lisa at his tail.
"Or more importantly," Sue interjected. "What are you wearing?"
"Oh, this is what muggle rock stars wear these days !" Michael spun around, kicking up dirt with his leather boots.
"I'm sure it came very cheap." Harry raised an eyebrow.
"It costs about five thousand pounds." Blaise said. Harry turned to look at him in disbelief, and he wasn't the only one.
"How would you know that ?" Lisa asked. "I take muggle studies and I've never even seen this type of clothing before."
"Mother's previous husband was a muggle artiste," Blaise mumbled.
That explains it then. Although, I've hardly seen Blaise display knowledge about anything muggle. "Still, five thousand pounds is a lot." Harry said, fixing Michael with a stare.
"You're the one to talk." Michael grinned. "Didn't you pay twice the amount for that rare sculpture last week ?!"
"I find it sacrilegious that you compare your wishy-washy clothes to the pristine beauty of art."
"Sweet Jesus!" Michael gasped, his palm above his heart. "You dare call my babies wishy-washy ?!" Harry dodged the attempted swat on his head.
"Not arguing again boys, are we?" An amused voice boomed from behind them. Mr Turpin slid into view, carrying a black suitcase with his left hand. He rubbed the sweat off his bald head with a piece of fabric and tucked it back into the pocket of his smart, black suit.
"Ah, Harry. I was beginning to wonder if you and Sue had forgotten about us and decided to just elope."
"Oh, no sir, nothing like that." Harry replied . There are things I have to do first, things I have to achieve. I will definitely not be going on a honeymoon any time soon.
"I'm glad you still find our company pleasurable then," Mr Turpin chuckled. "I'd half expected you and Sue to lock yourself away for the rest of the summer." Harry fought the blush that threatened to consume his face.
"Don't give them ideas, Dad." Lisa grumbled.
"Of course not, my dear." said Mr Turpin. "Tilly!" A loud crack echoed in the gentle sway of the wind.
"Master called." Tilly simpered, clutching his brown, pillow-case apron tight against his bony skin. Mr Turpin extended the black suitcase to the house-elf.
"Take this to my study, please."
Tilly bowed and grabbed the suitcase, vanishing with another reverberating crack.
"Time to go." Mr Turpin stole a glance at his wristwatch. "Don't want to be late."
The group joined the rest of the wizarding populace, surging towards the seats in a whirl of motion and noise.
"Here." Mr Turpin stopped at the entrance to a set of plush, ornately-designed seats.
"We're in the Top Box!" Sue cried in a mixture of disbelief and awe.
"Dad asked Cornelius Fudge for extra tickets." Lisa said.
"Wow, this is massive." Michael breathed.
"Make yourself comfortable." Mr Turpin gestured to the seats. "Excuse me, I must see the Minister."
Mr Turpin left to stand beside the only wizard Harry had seen wearing normal wizarding robes, today.
No one dares question the Minister on his choice of clothes, even though the instructions given by the ministry laid extra emphasis on the muggle dress-code.
Harry straightened as Mr Turpin, Minister Fudge and the other ministry dignitaries made a bee-line for their direction.
"Children, meet the Minister." Mr Turpin said.
"It's a pleasure to meet you sir." Blaise said, inclining his head.
"The pleasure is all mine, my boy." Minister Fudge said. "You're the Zabini boy, right?"
"Yes sir." Blaise replied, though his smile became rather fixed.
"How is your mother, my boy?" Fudge asked, oblivious. "I was classmates with her back at Hogwarts."
"She's doing well, sir." Blaise shrugged.
"You've met my daughter Lisa before, Minister, and you know Blaise." Mr Turpin interjected. "This is Lisa's best friend, Sue Li, her fellow housemate, Michael Corner, and his best friend, Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter, you say?" Fudge perked up. Harry pasted an expression of polite curiosity on his face. "The same Harry Potter that finished second in the ICW Junior Duelling Tournament last year?"
"That's correct." Mr Turpin replied, but Fudge was not looking at him. His beady eyes were fixed on Harry as he rearranged the lime-green bowler hat on his head.
"How are you, my boy ?" The minister extended a hand and Harry took it.
"Fine, sir." Harry affected his most polite tone. "It's an honour to meet you."
"Oh, the honour is all mine, my boy." Fudge waved a hand. "Are you by any chance related to the deceased Auror, James Potter ?"
"He was my father, sir." A little ice crept into his voice and Harry was sure Fudge was going to drop the subject, but he didn't.
"Oho, so you're a pureblood, then?"
Harry stifled a hiss of irritation. "Half-blood sir." He replied. "My mother was muggleborn."
"Oh…" Fudge trailed off for a moment and then his eyes brightened. Harry turned to look and saw Neville Longbottom and his grandmother standing at the entrance to the Top Box.
"Ah you made it, Augusta!" Fudge exclaimed, stepping forward to grasp Mrs Longbottom's hand.
"Of course, Minister." Augusta Longbottom replied primly. "My Neville didn't want to miss the game."
Fudge boomed with laughter as if it was the most amusing thing he'd heard all day.
"And how are you doing, Neville, my boy?" Fudge asked.
"I'm very well sir, and you?" Neville replied, favouring the minister with a smile.
"Oh, I'm well," the minister replied. "I heard you made Junior Duelling Captain last term. Of course, I'd known it was only a matter of time with talent such as yours !"
"Thank you sir," Neville's smile widened. "I think the Hogwarts staff agree with you."
Not that he deserved it. They only gave it to him because of his fame as the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. I'd've made a better Captain yet I'm stuck with being his assistant.
Fudge slung a hand around Neville's shoulders and whisked him towards the centre of the room, without sparing Harry or the others another glance. A little ice coated Harry's heart as he watched the interaction between Neville and the Minister.
Sure, just forget about us like we don't matter. You senile, old man. If only you knew what a fraud he really is.
Mrs Longbottom walked to the other side of her grandson. Behind them trailed Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, both forgotten in the wake of the din that was the Boy-Who-Lived. The other occupants on the Top Box shuffled around Fudge and Neville.
"It's Neville Longbottom, you see?" Fudge chattered to a pair of Asian witches who just blinked at him.
"Let's get to our seats." Michael advised.
Harry cast one last look at Neville's smiling face, as he kissed the fingers of a pretty witch, and turned to walk beside Michael with Sue, Lisa and Blaise trailing behind them.
"The teams are coming out now." Sue whispered from the seat beside him.
The Bulgarian cheerleaders strode out onto the field like they'd stepped straight from the stage of a muggle artiste during a live concert.
The cheerleaders' pale skin shone as they twirled and twisted around the pitch, their faces illuminated by the thousands of eyes fixed upon them.
Harry stared. A wave of magic pulsated and fluttered at the edge of his senses. His heart lurched and Harry fought the urge to blink. He wanted to look away yet he found himself unable to. Tears stung his eyes and Harry dabbed at it furiously.
What is this magic?
A distant part of his mind registered Michael gripping his shoulders as he leaned forward for a better vantage position, his eyes glued to the stunning cheerleaders below — like the eyes of every other male in the stands and even some females too.
They can get people to notice them with seemingly little effort. It's not that easy for so many of the rest of us.
Harry tore his eyes away from the dancing cheerleaders. A fistful of bile rose up his throat and wrenched his heart to a bitter, hollow place. He leant back from the railings and folded his arm across his chest.
The cheerleaders' performance ended and the crowd cheered as fourteen brooms zoomed into the pitch.
Harry heaved a sigh of relief; the Quidditch World Cup final began. The cheerleaders had been shunted to a corner as voices bellowed out their favorite player.
"Here," Michael thrust a pair of omniculars into his palm. Harry mirrored his actions, the green and scarlet blurs sharpened into wizards. Harry tracked their movements with his eyes, every manoeuvre fluid and easy like the swirl of the sea.
The referee's shrill whistle sounded and the Quaffle was hurled into the air. A blond, Irish chaser snatched it and started a race towards the Bulgarian hoops.
Harry's attention shifted from the game as the Bulgarian cheerleaders made rude noises and gestures every time Ireland scored.
"What is the deal with them?" Lisa glared down at the offending cheerleaders.
"What exactly are they?" Michael asked, his gaze was focused on the cheerleaders too but there was none of the glazed look evident in his eyes anymore. It was instead replaced with a wary gleam of cautious apprehension.
"Veela," Blaise replied, grimly. "They're a type of exceptionally beautiful witches who can use their magic to charm anyone who finds them attractive."
Ah, yes. I think I remember reading about something like that in the library, once. Although, the book described them as less than human.
"They don't seem fully human," Harry commented. Blaise gave a derisive snort.
"The illusion that they're creatures less than human is nothing but that, an illusion." Blaise's impassive face seemed to grow darker in the shadow of the firelight and his dark eyes gleamed with malevolence as he spoke. "That theory is mostly purported by the ignoramus and paranoid who are scared shitless of the consequences of a magical being able to sway men to their every whim with just a single look, as if witches have not proven they do not need a magical allure to charm men."
Wait, is he talking about his mother? He never really goes into too much detail about her whenever he talks about her but we've all heard the rumours.
Harry eyed Blaise with a thoughtful glance, the darker boy's eyes lingered still on the Veela, but there was nothing but grim resolve in those grey eyes.
A massive cheer rose from the crowd and everyone around Harry rose to their feet, applauding.
Viktor Krum hovered inches above the stands, his rough, bloodied face set in a furious scowl, and raised a hand clutching the struggling snitch.
Harry snatched a glance at the scoreboard. Oh, that's why he's angry; they still lost the game. But it's nobody's fault but his. If he truly wanted to win, he would have done better.
The Veela cheerleaders, who had broken into a dance as Krum caught the snitch, froze. A chill gripped Harry's spine as he watched. Feathers sprouted across the length of their arms and legs, their eyes widened and turned black as ash, their mouth stretched and narrowed into curved, sharp beaks.
I don't care what Blaise says. Those creatures are not completely human.
Fire sprouted from their bare arms and soon a conflagration ensued. Screams battered Harry's eardrum as bright flashes of spell-light joined the din.
Harry spied a group of hooded wizards marching the length of the burning pitch, their skull masks illuminated in the bright firelight. A chill trickled down his spine as his mind ignited with recognition borne of the sinister scribblings in recent history books.
The Death Eaters were making a beeline for the stands and — Harry suspected — the Top Box.
Mr Turpin stood, thrusting his hands into the pocket of his suit and removed a tiny, glowing box. He pressed the box to his lips.
"This is Department Head Turpin," He spoke in a fast, clear tone. "All Aurors and Hitwizards available should report to the plains of the Quidditch World Cup immediately! Proceed and engage with utmost caution ! Our priority is getting the people to safety."
He lowered the box and jammed his thumb against the top and its light flickered out.
"Children," Mr Turpin drew his wand and turned to address them. "We need to be smart about this, they've placed Anti-Portkey and Anti-Apparition wards so we can only leave through the entrance way."
"But they are blocking the entrance way," Sue said. "There's no way we can get past them without a fight !"
"That's why I need you all to do exactly as I say." The intensity in Mr Turpin's grey eyes looked fit to cut steel. "By the look of things, they're after the Minister and the other dignitaries but they don't mind causing general chaos and harming innocent people along the way. So when I give the word, I want you all to break out from the group and hide in the woods, don't come out until I find you even when the noise has died down."
Harry followed after the others as they fled from the Top Box. Mr Turpin was at the front, running forward to catch the Minister's attention.
"Reginald !" Fudge gasped, his bowler hat, askew. He looked as if he had jogged down from the Top Box, seven aurors shadowed him in smart, black robes. Harry recognised the gaunt face of Rufus Scrimigeour at the head.
"Minister, we are getting out of here now !" Mr Turpin said. "When we get past the perimeter we'd be able to disapparate from there."
"They are not going to let us pass without a fight." Scrimigeour said in a flat tone, his black eyes glared at the mass of hooded robes clustered across the exit.
"Then we fight." Mr Turpin replied, his voice just as hard. "Dawlish, Williamson, fan out to the sides and make sure they don't flank us — Shacklebolt, Tonks, hang out behind and watch our six — Maxwell, MacGregor, I want you at the right and left of the Minister throughout, no matter what happens ! Should they get past either of us, do all you can for the Minister — Rufus, standby at the right, be ready to cover for Shacklebolt or Tonks if they're down — Robards at the left, same instruction as Rufus — Amelia, with me."
The aurors nodded and rushed to follow Mr Turpin's instructions, their faces grim and business-like in the dim firelight.
"What about the children?" Scrimigeour asked. "Are they to remain with us as we fight?"
Mr Turpin turned to face Harry and the others, ignoring Scrimigeour's question. "Remember what I told you earlier ! Get to the woods now, stay there until I find you."
Lisa rushed forward to hug her father. "Dad be careful." Her voice broke. Michael grabbed her hand and gave a gentle tug.
"Of course, dear, I'll see you soon. You stay in the woods and out of sight, you hear me." Mr Turpin said. He fixed Michael with a serious look. "Take care of her for me."
"I will, I promise."
Harry nudged Michael, and together they fled towards the woods. Fire and curses rained down on them as they ran. Black smoke lingered over burning woods; it swirled around them in a thick, dark fog that clogged Harry's vision and choked his breath. Sue's grip on his hand tightened. Stray branches brushed against his sides as he ran.
A fiery explosion penetrated the dense smoke, throwing up debris of scattered trees and dust. Harry landed on his side; the hand holding Sue slackened. Something warm and sticky trickled down the side of his head.
"Harry, Harry ! Where are you ?!" Michael's distant voice called out.
Another fiery spell crashed against the discarded tree-trunk lying inches away from him. The log exploded in flames, throwing the forest in harsh, illuminating orange light.
Harry groaned as he stood and wiped the blood from his head. Sharp twinges of pain jolted his left arm. Pieces of wood and burnt fabric stuck to his skin, clinging like tar.
"Harry !" Sue staggered towards him, her brown eyes wide with fear and despair.
Thick, warm ashes carpeted the ground around them. Shadows shifted in the harsh light of burning wood.
Bright red light soared past his face; the heat of the curse singed his hair. Harry twisted 'round bringing his wand to bear.
Four hooded figures strode towards his direction. A pale purple spell flashed towards him.
Harry jumped to the side, twisting his wand in mid-air.
"Incendio." A gout of orange flame streaked towards the trio of Death Eaters. A singular, translucent shield parried Harry's spell to the floor.
"Harry Potter," the Death Eater at the front spat. Her mask fell to reveal a twisted, scarred face. "The Dark Lord will not condone failure so you can imagine why I will not be gentle."
Seems like Voldemort has contacted some of his Death Eaters.
A trickle of chill gripped his spine and the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. Harry forced down the feeling of dread.
"Your Dark Lord is dead," Harry said, with as much bravado as he could muster. "Neville Longbottom killed him thirteen years ago."
"The Dark Lord did not fall to Neville Longbottom," the Death Eater said. "But you already knew that, didn't you? You've met him."
Harry's insides squirmed and tightened. The Death Eaters were more informed than he expected them to be, he hadn't thought Voldemort would've revealed that much truth to them.
"What are they talking about, Harry ?"Sue whispered from somewhere behind him. "When did you meet You-Know-Who ?!"
"Oho, So you've not told your whore everything, Potter?" the Death Eater cackled. "How very unfortunate for her."
"Fulminis." Bright, white light seared his eyes. Lightening arced towards the Death Eaters, tearing through the large, pale shield like paper. One of the masked men crumpled to the ground, a fist-sized hole at the centre of his chest.
"Shit ! Alecto, take his blood now !" Another Death Eater shouted, his words muffled by his mask and his German accent. Two red curses tore past Harry's head. A shrill scream echoed around the ashes. Harry saw — with his peripheral vision — Sue writhing on the floor.
The Cruciatus curse. That could have hit me.
A shard of ice tightened in his heart, his magic roared and swirled to the surface, ignited like the blaze of an inferno through dried leaves.
The wind stilled.
A wave of heat washed over his body. Bright, white light suffocated his vision. Pain lanced through his head and drowned his heart in heat. Something crawled beneath his skin.
Harry slashed his wand in the air, visions of Voldemort chalk-white, sneering face flashing through his mind.
Cherry, red flames exploded from the end of his wand and enveloped the mass of the trees. An explosion of wind and fire rocked the ash-carpeted ground.
The fire spiralled around him, hissing and cracking as it burnt. Harry waved his wand, trying to exert control over the flames. The fire lunged at him, missing his head by inches. A stream of fear washed over his heart.
I'm not getting killed by my own spell.
He twisted his wand, forcing his intent into the spell. The flames sputtered and guttered out.
Harry sank to his knees, his breath heavy in the silence of the night. The pain in his head evaporated, replaced by a deep, dull ache in his middle.
What in the name of Jesus was that spell?!
Two burnt corpses lay strewn across the floor. Tiny flecks of red flames lingered around them, eating deep into the remnants of the charred skeletons.
Wait, that's just two of them, where's the last Death Eater?
A slight noise — from behind — drew his attention and Harry staggered to his feet.
Burnt, tattered fabric pooled at the feet of the Death Eater. His mask lay on the ground and Harry recognised the singed face of the Ministry's exterminator, Macnair. Sue whimpered beneath his grip, the tip of his wand pressed to her throat.
He must have apparated to this side when he saw the fire. Harry's eyes tracked the blackened skin and the slight tremble in his legs. But not fast enough, he still caught some of it.
Macnair kicked a vial toward Harry, his arms still tight 'round Sue.
"Go on," He nodded at the discarded glass tube lying across the floor. "Fill the vial with your blood and I'd let the girl live."
He's afraid. Harry tilted his head to the side. His body protested the movement. The core of his magic felt hollow and spent.
But I'm exhausted and whatever Voldemort wants my blood for, it won't mean anything good for me. I can't let him get it. And if I don't hurry I might pass out any moment and he'd be able to take my blood himself.
Harry dragged his wand up.
I can stun him but there's no assurance that he won't recover before me and I'd be at his mercy if he does.
"Careful, Potter, you cannot curse me without harming her." Macnair's hand trembled over Sue's throat. "Think about it very well, are you ready to let your girlfriend die over something as silly as a few drops of blood ?"
But there's power in blood.
Professor Dumbledore's smiling face fluttered through his thoughts, whispering secrets of love and a mother's sacrifice for her son; Voldemort's red eyes and chalk-white face sneered from the back of Quirrel's head, burning at the deadly touch of Harry's own skin.
I can't let him have that advantage. A shard of ice tightened in his heart. He summoned the dregs of his magic to the surface. The decision was already made.
"Harry please, just give him your blood !" Sue pleaded. "Let him have your blood so he will leave us alone ! Harry please, I don't want to die !"
I'm sorry Sue, I can't let him have my blood.
"Fulminis." His wand slashed above his chest. Lightning tore through their joint bodies like a battering ram through a thin wall of pulp.
The rest of his magical reserves spluttered out like a shoddy candle. The throb in his body deepened. His wand slipped through his sweat-slicked fingers.
Harry moved towards Sue's still, prone form. His knees jerked and dragged him to the ground as he crawled towards her body. A gaping hole — the size of a fist — replaced where her heart used to reside. Glistening pieces of red innards peaked out from her open chest.
He wrapped his hand 'round her cooling body, burying his face in the ashes and letting the world drift into the distance.
I'm sorry, Sue. It was either you or me and I can't let it be me.
A/N: Do leave a review, if you like the story. I'd be posting the next couple of chapters, on my Patreo/n, over the next couple of days for early access. FFN updates will also come slightly faster, until the teaser ends. (I'll try to update as fast as I can). I'm hoping to work up an update schedule and also build a community and a website. You're more than welcome to come and join my Discord, and any kind of support and contribution on patreo/n is immensely appreciated !
All my links are on my profile including my Discord, but just in case there's this one below that you can use as well !
discord . gg / qy3u4xJEFj