AN: You will all hate me before this chapter is over. This I promise you. insert evil grin here.

Chapter 1: Exit Light, Enter Night

Harry jerked from his sleep suddenly, as a chill breeze blew through the open window. The curtains billowed outward and the trees outside rustled.

"Harry?" Ginny murmured softly, the sudden movement having broken her sound sleep. "What's wrong?" She asked, yawning.

"I don't know," Harry replied, settling his head back down onto his pillow, and hugging Ginny to him. "Something just...felt wrong all of a sudden."

Ginny sighed softly, resting her head on his chest and quickly drifting back to sleep.

When the sun rose upon the horizon, casting its light into the room, it found Harry still awake, eyes open and filled with unease and uncertainty.

The chill wind swept the walls of Hogwarts, but only one within felt its passing.

The Watcher felt it, heard it, and knew what caused it. Excitement and adrenaline surged through him.

He rose, walking to a chest that he had not opened since packing it, over thirty years before. He opened it, and lifted a gleaming battle axe from the top of the items within. Its heavy weight felt perfect in his hand, and he ran a finger along one edge, testing its sharpness. The blade sliced his skin with ease, drawing blood, still razor sharp even after decades of sitting unused.

Soon, he knew. Soon he would get a chance to wield his weapons against those they were forged to fight. Long had they waited, and chafed at being forced to hold back. To watch as battles raged around them, and they were unable to fight.

They were close...a mere day and a half hard march from the elven fortress-turned school...soon they would take their place in the world once more. Soon they would march beside their ancient allies, and drive their enemies back.

All around them, dark figures were emerging from the swirling portals, but Lucius Malfoy paid no heed to anything but what was before him.

The violent and undeniably painful death of his son had shocked him, but all that was forgotten as a wave of unnatural fear swept over him. It was all he could do to keep from fleeing in terror as he beheld the figure that had first stepped from one of the portals.

The...thing, whatever it was, looked like it was practically bred for killing. Tall and imposing, it towered over them, standing a good seven feet tall, heavily muscled and powerful. It stood encased in gleaming black armour, and carried a massive, brutal looking sword in its armoured fist.

It had a massive scar jutting across its pale-skinned face, crossing over one blood red eye, and descending towards pale lips. A low growl escaped its throat as its lips curled upward in a snarl, baring wicked fangs and pointed teeth.

"At last," it said, its voice a low, deep, cruel rumble. "We are free from that accursed prison."

"Yes," Voldemort cried, moving forward and standing tall. "And I released you! You must obey me!"

Dark laughter came from all around, as more dark figures, some clad in armour and some in black, rune-inscribed robes, converged around the Death Eaters.

The one they seemed to look to as a leader looked down at the so called 'Dark Lord' and sneered.

"Fool," it growled, and its fist lashed out, blackened gauntlet backhanding Voldemort in the face, sending him tumbling to the ground. "You may have released us, and for that we won't kill you, but do not presume to think you can command those such as we. You are weak human. Nothing. A slave, nothing more."

"You will not speak to our Lord like that!" Bellatrix Lestrange cried out, stepping forward, her eyes mad. Her sanity had surely long since left her.

Moments later her head left her as well, tumbling free of her body.

"I am now your Lord," the leader said decisively, his blade running red with her blood. "I am Victus, Champion of the Nekmari, Overlord of the First Host, and Commander of Shadow. You serve me now, or you die."

Voldemort suddenly realized his dreams of power and domination would not be coming true, but he had no wish to die that night, so nodded fearfully, his remaining Death Eaters following suit.

"Good," Victus said, and surveyed the rest of his kind that stood within the Necropolis. They were his commanders, the leaders of his forces, of both warriors and magics.

"Go now," He commanded, looking first at his five generals. "Rally your hosts, and march. Craxus, secure Darkhold, and the tunnels. The rest of you, go above. Purge the land within a large radius of Darkhold. Establish a perimeter. Any humans you find, harvest. If any resist, kill them."

The armour clad warriors saluted, grinning in wicked anticipation, and strode forth. Victus next turned to the remaining robe clad Nekmari who remained.

"All of you except Galros, go forth, gather your units. I can't imagine the Hosts will be able to restrain themselves from the slaughter after so long. There will be many dead humans," the waiting Nekmari shared knowing grins. "Find the dead...and enlist them. In death, they shall serve us. Once the perimeter is established, shield it."

The robed ones nodded, and vanished without a sound.

"Galros, see if your scrying has any success. Find our enemies, I want to know where they are, how many there are, everything. Try and make contact with our old allies and servants while you're at it." Victus commanded, and the remaining magi nodded.

"Wait," Victus continued, before the magi could leave. "Get rid of this skeleton. Leave the other," he said, gesturing to the altar and the skeleton resting upon it.

Galros nodded, and with barely a move of his hand, the skeleton of Draco Malfoy twitched, then rose, the black dagger still clutched in his hand. The necromancer could control a host of over a thousand such skeletal minions with focus, this one took barely a moment of thought to raise and command. He saluted, then vanished, taking the skeletal slave with him.

The Nekmarin commander then turned to the humans who remained.

"Wait outside, I will attend to you shortly. I will need all the information from you of this time and any who would stand against us," he commanded.

"Y-yes, my Lord," Voldemort stammered. "What, what about..." He started, gesturing to the remains of Lestrange.

Victus laughed, the sound deep and harsh. "I will join you shortly...it has been many millennia since I have fed."

A black tongue licked pale lips, and Voldemort and the Death Eaters hurried from the Necropolis, ignoring the sounds of tearing flesh behind them.

The muggle family sat in their living room, the television on. Two young children played on the floor in front of the couch, while their parents watched the news. It was early evening, and the moon was bright in the sky.

A sudden chill passed over them, and the light from the moon streaming in from the window was suddenly gone, leaving the night outside blacker then they had ever seen.

The father rose from the couch, and looked confused out the window. He suddenly felt unexplained fear spread through him. Sudden silence behind him made him turn around, and realize both his children were now shivering fearfully, and the television had flickered off.

He strode to the door, and opened it, just as an low, echoing sound emerged from the darkness. It sounded like a horn behind blown far away, but had a distinctly cruel sound to it.

He reached beside the door, and flicked on the porch light, and his eyes widened suddenly, fearfully, as he saw what lurked in the darkness.

He didn't even have time to shout as a black shafted crossbow bolt punched into his chest, throwing him backwards across the living room. The last thing he heard was the screams of his wife and children before life fled him.

"They resisted," the warrior said, laughing wickedly as he wiped the child's blood from his blade. The little bastard had tried to run, but hadn't gotten very far at all before the Nekmarin had caught him. His screams had been so loud, so sweet, as the black blade slowly pierced his chest and found his juvenile heart. The Nekmari hadn't heard such sweet sounds, or tasted such sweet fear in far too long, and they reveled in it.

The others within the house laughed, then silenced as a robed figure, carrying a staff topped with a human skull, entered the building and looked around.

"If you keep killing all of them," it snapped, "there won't be any for the Camps."

One of the warriors laughed again, nudging the dead human male with his foot. It had been his crossbow bolt that had caught the stupid, unsuspecting human.

"Bah, there's enough of them around. The camps will be full soon enough," he growled. "Don't worry about the food supply. We'll fill the camps, and keep them full. None of us shall go hungry again."

The robed figure nodded, then waved its staff briefly, and the dead bodies of the humans twitched, and rose, obeying the necromancer's dark commands.

All across the small town in northern Albania, Nekmari broke into homes, and slaughtered the inhabitants, and moments later, they were raised as undead servants of the Darkness.

By the end of the week, an almost 100 square mile section of Albania had been swept through, the Nekmari attacking so swiftly and covering ground so fast that no word leaked out to anyone about what was occurring.

When the Nekmari warriors had established the perimeter, the Magi cast a shield over the entire area, and the whole area simply vanished to those outside it, erased from their memory, and wiped from all maps.

"Well?" Victus asked, looking at the necromancer expectantly.

Galros rolled out a map onto the table between them. The material it was drawn on was fresh, still somewhat soft. It took human skin several months to dry fully.

"Our enemies are fools," The necromancer said, laughing softly. "They have grown weak, complacent it seems. They no longer even shield their locations."

He marked a trio of locations on the map.

"Here, here and here. The three outlying cities still lay. Two are still on the main continent, although this one," he said, pointing at an island off the coast of the continent. "Is on land that apparently has broken away from the mainland since we last made war. All three are warded, but nothing we cannot get through, and their populations are low. They've grown weak. The isolated one is the largest, but even then, not more then a fraction of its former size."

Victus grinned eagerly.

"There is a small detachment of enemy troops here, on this larger island, at the site of the former fortress of Dalandrin-"

He was interrupted as Victus snarled angrily. How he hated that fortress. Too many times had the forces stationed there repelled countless attacks, and from there they had struck hard against the Nekmari hosts.

"It appears to be nothing more then a human school now. Its defenses are strong, but nothing we can't break through. A low priority target now."

Victus nodded, thankful that the damned place wouldn't cause them much problem.

"None of those are important. What is the status of their damned Empire?" Victus snarled.

Here the necromancer chuckled again.

"That's just it Overlord. It's gone."

"What?" Victus looked up at him in shock.

The necromancer nodded.

"Completely gone. Even before, I could at least sense its shields, even if I couldn't see it. It was a empty space in my mind, but it was always there. Now...it's just not. The enemy is weak."

"You're sure? They aren't just hiding?"

Galros nodded. "No Overlord. They are truly gone. I sense the powers of their old gods, but even that is weak, almost powerless."

"Excellent," Victus laughed, "the might of the Light is gone...now we shall emerge victorious."

Galros nodded, and turned slightly as another armoured figure, General Craxus, entered the room.

"Overlord, Darkhold is secured. Many of the tunnels have collapsed during the time of our imprisonment, but we are working on getting them re-opened. We shall have full mobility across the Darklands soon."

"Good," Victus said, pleased. "I have a mission for you and your Elite."

Craxus grinned eagerly. His Elite were the best, and knew it. Missions they received were always...fun.

"The human who released us, who calls himself 'Voldemort'," the other two Nekmari snorted in derision at the foolish name, "he told me much. Apparently, the enemy and their human allies have put great value in the life of a certain Prince. They have named him Champion."

Craxus's grin widened wickedly, and he looked at Victus hopefully.

"Yes," Victus said, confirming the General's thought. "His death will be a great blow to their morale, and their spirit. What more suitable a way to announce our return then by killing their Champion?"

The General nodded. His Elite had only failed to eliminate one target before, and that had been an exceptional one. Time and time again, they had slain enemy leaders and champions.

"What's more, he is currently far away from any possible reinforcements, and in a very poorly protected location."

"We will leave immediately Overlord. We shall not fail you," Craxus growled.

"You had better not. I have not forgotten your failure in the past. Do not fail me again."

The Nekmari general nodded, and turned to leave.

"And Craxus," Victus called after him, "let him die slowly. Let him suffer. Let him bleed out his life into the cold ground, with no hope of being saved. Let them find him, and know that they too shall die as he; slowly, and with a great deal of suffering."

The General's eyes gleamed with cruel anticipation, as he saluted and strode away to gather his force.

Harry sighed happily. He couldn't remember a time when he felt as comfortable...as relaxed, as right now.

He kissed the top of Ginny's head, and she smiled up at him, before relaxing again.

They were sitting quietly together in the woods outside Godric's Hollow, leaning against a large tree at the edge of a small clearing, just relaxing and taking pleasure in each others company.

"I love you Gin," he whispered.

She wiggled against him, trying to move closer, even though that was impossible since she was leaning against him.

"Love you too," she replied.

He sighed happily again, and they half dozed off.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice penetrated the fog, and he fully woke up.

"Hmm?"

"Where did the stars go?" She asked, confusion in her voice.

He looked up. She was right. The stars had been visible earlier, he was certain. Now, they had vanished completely, in a very short period of time. That was ...unusual.

"And does it feel a bit...chilly out?" Ginny asked, continuing.

Suddenly Harry felt a very bad feeling sweep over him, and he cursed his carelessness in coming out here with nothing more then his boot daggers as weapons.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, feeling him suddenly tense up.

"I'm not sure," he replied, sitting up quickly, and looking around. "Something isn't right."

Suddenly he felt it. A sudden, unnatural feeling a fear that sought to overwhelm him. Sudden realization shot through him, as the horn around his neck seemed to grow warm against him, and felt a lot heavier. He tried to reach his father's mind, but was repelled, this time by a much more insidious block then before, one that burned his mind upon touching. He cursed silently.

"Ginny, go. Get back to the house, warn my father. Tell him to evacuate everyone to Hogwarts immediately, and to send word to Falandais," Harry said, speaking quickly, already on his feet, daggers in his hands. "Tell him that the enemy has returned, and to order for a full muster of all our forces."

"What?" Ginny asked, fearful. "Harry, I'm not leaving you."

"Ginny, there's no time! Go, please! Warn my father, and get yourself to Hogwarts. I'll be fine, really," Harry said, and he pushed her gently, trying to get her to move. "There's no time, go NOW!"

Finally, she nodded, and took off at a run back to the house.

Harry moved into the centre of the clearing, and lifted the horn around his neck to his lips and gave a long blow, sustained for as long as he could, before letting it fall and raising his daggers, eyes scanning the darkness.

"Go now, all of you. Floo to Hogwarts immediately," James said, shoving the children towards the fireplace. He'd heard the horn blast and knew what it meant. Ginny's words had only confirmed it.

"What's going on?" Ginny demanded, pushing past him and looking out the door.

"Ginny, you have to leave, please. He wouldn't want to you stay, you'll be in terrible danger," James said, trying to turn her back towards the fireplace.

"So is he," She said, ignoring his attempts to pull her back.

"Ginny, he'll be fine, I promise you, he can handle it. Come on, will you please floo to Hogwarts?" He begged.

Finally, she nodded, and he sighed happily.

"Thank you," he said, pulling her to the fireplace. They were the last ones left. Ginny nodded, and moved to the fireplace.

She was about to cast the powder into the fire, when she felt a sudden feeling of extreme agony through her bond to Harry. It shot through her whole body, and though it hurt so much, she knew it must be ten times worse for him.

"Harry!" She screamed, and shoved past James, and sprinting away into the night.

James swore, and stood on the brink, indecision reigning. He could pursue her, but there was no guarantee he would be able to catch her in time.

No, the best bet was to get to Hogwarts immediately and return with reinforcements.

He moved swiftly to the floo, and threw the powder in, shouting out his destination and hoping he was making the right decision.

Harry heard a twig snap behind him, and he spun, throwing one of the daggers he carried in the direction of the noise.

His eyes widened in shock as the dagger was caught inches from its destination by a mailed fist.

The armoured figure that had caught it laughed, the sound taunting and cruel.

"You are too slow Elfling," it hissed, tossing the dagger aside as it strode fully into the clearing. "Too slow, and too weak. You are the Champion? Then your race has truly fallen."

Harry glared angrily, and then leapt forward suddenly, remaining dagger out and slashing. His opponent merely dodged aside, so quickly it shouldn't have been possible, and his mailed fist lashed out, catching Harry in the side of the head, the force of the blow causing the elf to stumble, and shake his head in a daze, before facing his foe once more.

"Too predictable. Too easy," it said, grinning.

Harry was about to retort when he felt a stabbing pain in his leg, and he looked down to see a black crossbow bolt had punched deep into the flesh of his upper leg. He hissed in pain, and leaned more heavily upon his other leg. He saw another of the bastards emerge from the woods in front of him, chuckling evilly, and loading another bolt into its crossbow.

"Caught all alone and unarmoured in the middle of the dark woods...careless..."

Harry barely repressed a scream of pain as he felt another bolt stab into him, this time punching through his shoulder, the force of it dropping him to his knees, and he knew there was at least one more of them behind him. The pain was intense and he arched his back, his wings fanning out behind him as the pain coursed through him.

"Your people will die elf," Craxus said, grinning cruelly down at the still defiant elf before him. "One by one, your race will be wiped out, and the Darkness will consume this world."

Harry spat at him, then cried out as he felt cold steel fingers grip his wings from behind, twisting them, and pain lashed through his back as the muscles twisted in unnatural ways.

Craxus's smile widened, and he drew forth his sword, a long, brutal black blade.

"Such useless extremities those," he whispered softly, moving around to Harry's side. "How about we remove them for you?"

Harry saw the black blade rise, and could not suppress the scream this time as he felt the blade hack through his wings, pain unlike any he had ever experienced flooding through him as his back became a fountain of blood.

He collapsed backwards onto the ground, screaming in agony as more and more of the black figures emerged from the shadows, encircling him, laughing viciously, watching him bleed.

"We were told to let you die slowly," Craxus said, squatting down next to the bleeding elf. "But I've little patience..."

The Nekmari drew a shorter, wider sword from its waist, and held it up before himself, point down, studying it for a moment, before looking back at the elf.

"You'll live for a few minutes longer...if your lucky."

The Nekmarin General thrust downward suddenly, the sharp blade piercing through the centre of Harry's chest, emerging bloodily from his back to dig into the soft ground beneath him.

"Goodnight Elfling," Craxus whispered, before standing and striding away into the dark night, the other Nekmari following. They dissolved into the night as though they had never been there, leaving the dying elf in the centre of the clearing.

Harry coughed and he tasted blood in his mouth. His vision was rapidly dimming and he knew he didn't have long.

"Harry!" A scream of horror pierced his dimming mind, and he numbly felt the presence of Ginny beside him. "Oh god Harry, no!"

She knelt over him, tears running down her face.

"Love...you," he managed to choke out, through the blood that welled up in his throat.

"No, Harry, no," she cried. "I won't let you go without me, if you go I go too, I swore it," she whispered silently.

He gripped her hand in his weakly, smiling faintly with blood-specked lips.

"I won't leave you," she whispered softly.

The light slowly faded from his eyes, and, their souls entwined so tightly as to be inseparable, the darkness took them both.

James strode through the Great Hall of Hogwarts, yelling orders, as various elves ran all about, rushing to obey them. Dumbledore and the rest of those who had fled the Potter house were followed along behind him, confused as to what was going on.

Suddenly James stopped cold, his face growing pale. Beside him, Lily suddenly gave a pitiful cry and he hugged her to his chest, holding her tightly.

For they both felt the sudden dissolution of a connection they had felt since their son had been born.

"What?" Sirius asked, sudden dread filling him.

James turned around to look at them, grief and pain visible in his eyes.

"My...my son is dead."

Right, well, I'm going to go hide in this here bunker I've dug so that none of you can hurt me. See you in a bit!