Disclaimer: All Harry Potter books and trademarks along with the characters recognised belong to J.K.Rowling.

A/N: Redone introduction to show that this is a flashback and vision.

Harry is dreaming. Expect more scenes like this in future

Chapter Three: First Dream First Vision
The young Harry rolled over on the cot. Sleep claimed him more often as a child, constantly tired and a second away from slipping into the sand man's hold. Sleep was only a step away from death in his opinion and he hated them both.

The nightmares of youth were long gone of course, but that didn't matter. His own memories of the past were allways much worse.

Allways of Voldemort.

Allways of the Darkness from his own soul, the shade of a Horucrux that he only now knew had lurked there.

His eye's closed.

He was only resting them for a second... just a second.

He saw the Dark Mark instantly.

Until that moment he had never understood the fear that people held for it. How grown men would break down in tears at the mention of it, woman sobbing with unmistakable anguish. Their symphony of sorrow seemed to laugh at him now… now that he was confronted with that same dark fear.

What goes around comes around.

He stormed forward driven not by courage or honour or even the good of man, all that had left him.

She was supposed to have been safe! She was supposed to have been safe!

Don't let me be to late, oh please Merlin.

'Stop in the name of The Law!'

A group of wizards had just left the building. Aurors.

'Get the hell out of my way!'

'Harry James Potter you are under arrest.'

The darkness inside him pounds as the night wails louder.

'Who are you?'

But we don't need him to answer do we. You can see the badge clear as day. They are the defenders of the light, protectors of the people.

'Give yourself up quietly Mr Potter.' They circle him now, thinking they have the advantage. 'You are to be brought in on charges of treason and aiding and abetting the muggle menace.'

And suddenly the world isn't the bright shinning place you thought it was. The paradise of innocence is swept away by the corruption of sin in this gothic legacy. Defenders of the light? The light has forsaken them, forsaken you as well. Why be a hero when there is nothing left to save?

Let me in.

I am your soul.

You cannot stop me.

You are puny, you are weak a hollow shell fit for only holding me.

The darkness was never outside of you, it never is. All the darkness the world has ever needed is locked within themselves.

Let me in.

Why fight? There is nothing left to save. Your voice is weak.

Don't let me be to late, she had to be alive.

She's still inside.

He didn't even bother ducking the first stunner, adrenaline pushed him through with barley a thought.

She's still inside.

It is said that you can be raised on high by the light, to shine pure through the night. But the further up, the tendrils of light raise you. The further you can fall into darkness.

Harry fell hard.

The first Auror he ripped in two, the second was burnt alive and the third ran away, showing just how brave the world's defenders were. The red haze in front of his vision was blazing now, blood spilt across the night. Killer. Murder. Primal warfare at it's best. A feral growl erupted from somewhere deep inside of his as he charged the remaining two. One of them was brave enough to shoot of a killing curse.

Auror's using the killing curse? How despicable the world has become.

Harry knows his mind is being violated, being raped by the darkness inside of him, but he does not care. It is a darkness born when nothing else matters, filling him, shaping him in the fires of rage.

Nothing else matters, except her.

He ducks, cape spinning, then leaps upwards into the night itself, the sickly green curse speeding far below. Wand out, he attacks without words or wand movements, only his fury.

Only fury.

The Auror's pieces litter the street. He's almost at the door, one more left. One more that dares stand in his way.

They clash in the shadows, blood spilling from cuts, bruises forming from blows. He was burnt, in violent smouldering flashes. Hot and bright, beautifully they danced with death.

He had never felt more alive.

The darkness roared.

His vision cleared.

The man was trembling beneath his grasp, but the red wrath was leaving him, only a cold shell remained. This wasn't a battle, there was no fighting, it was over, and he had won. The Auror was at his mercy.

Did he have any mercy left?

Kill him.

'You're too late Mr Potter.'

The voices disappeared back where they came.

'Where are the Death Eaters?'

'There are no Death Eaters Mr Potter.'

'The Dark Mark – '

'Is now the official sign of the ministries Aurors.'

He was cold now; all the fire had left him. And hidden behind that shadow of insanity and madness his thoughts began to turn once more…

'The Secret Keeper came to us. The War Minister knew this would lure you out.'

Did he have any mercy left?

She's still inside.

'You're too late Mr Potter.'

Harry snapped the Auror's neck.

He didn't remember opening the door, or pounding up the steps. He searched the house without really seeing, without sight or sound or touch or smell.

Until he saw her.

She looked beautiful. Even in the nights cold embrace she looked beautiful. How could he think that? Trembling he turned her over, barley noticing her tattered clothes, her vicious wounds from the "light".

'Ginny – '

It is a fragile a hope, a cursed hope, but a hope none the less.

'No – '

She was gone.

Never to smile, laugh or cry again. Her shinning eyes dimmed for all time. Never to feel her heart beat or feel peace with her in his arms, he pulled her close only to feel the cold embrace was not that of night… but that of death.

Why… why why why. Oh god Ginny!

And worst of all… the world carried on; there was no stillness, no event to show the tragedy that had occurred. The world carried on uncaring, the seconds passed as always. It wasn't right. It shouldn't be this way.

His dark heart beat while hers was still.

Magic flared.

He felt the water start to flow through the remains of the roof and the night stilled at his howl of agony and woe.

Rain.

Tears from heaven.

Its last angel has left the earth.

Let me in.

I think of Ginny.

'The remains of the hit squad have reported in. Potter is still at large.'

Inside the new War Room at the ministry of magic the new War Minister sits, a small piece of order in the otherwise pandemonium surrounding him.

'Report?'

The new room was now the centre of the whole ministry, able to give locations of every member. A giant size version of the Marauders map is displayed on the wall, showing the ministry. Each section also has lots of blinking red buttons that can be pressed.

Even in nature red had always been a sign of danger.

'The first target was eliminated. Potter however escaped – '

KWOOM

'What – '

The Minister of Magic, Scrimgeour, entered in a flurry.

'It's Potter! He's here, in the main hall!'

'What about the squads placed there?' Asked the War Minister.

'Didn't stop him. He tripped the automatic defences and – '

A red light dimmed.

'– Huh?'

'They're… gone. It just disappeared!'

'The vampires have been massacred, the trolls ripped to shreds!'

'What about the Death Eater's? The dementors?'

'He's killed them all! The dementors are fleeing!'

'What the hell can scare dementors?'

'Nothings slowing him down!'

'He's… he's…'

'He's off the map! He's heading for – '

He didn't even bother to use the door, that's what the survivors reminisced about later. He'd dropped through the ceiling itself, showers of dust and stone seemed to float through the air. Electricity sparked between the shards, the falling blocks of flint that had stood for hundreds of years shattered from the magical pressure.

In one hand he held a red sword encrusted with rubies, the blood streaming down the blade itself sullied what had once been a beautiful relic. The blood was everywhere; it covered his body, his wand, even his face. It dripped freshly from his hands. Yet none of the blood had touched his cape. Pure white. Innocence. Truth. Justice. His cape flapped like the wings of retribution.

And then the angel of vengeance was among them.

'WHY?'

An inexperienced Auror rose up. 'Mr Potter you are under – '

The Auror's head left his shoulders.

'WHY!'

The sound of malicious slow clapping spread through the action. All eyes were drawn to the War Minister.

'Well done Potter. I didn't know you had it in you.'

'Voldemort?'

'You sound surprised?'

Scrimgeour drew himself up. 'Potter! You are to give yourself in on charges of aiding the muggle menace! It is time to stand firm. We're under attack! Diagon Alley was destroyed yesterday! The muggles have to be put in their place they a – '

Some people never learn when to stay quiet.

'You killed her.'

'Wh – '

'YOU KILLED GINNY!'

Scrimgeour had turned white, one of the Death Eaters gasped. 'We – I never. What are you talking about?'

He had barley turned around before the flash of green hit him. Voldemort smirked.

'The record will state that the late Scrimgeour was killed by Potter when he attacked. I reluctantly resumed command to restore the order needed to push him back.'

Harry growled.

'It's amazing who people can turn to when they are in fear. You won't escape alive this time Potter! I'll have the whole world after you by night fall.'

Harry attacked, the few words and pieces of sanity already used up. Black cloaked Death Eaters and Aurors alike threw themselves at him. Still he moved slipping between them uncaring of their attacks one person fixated upon his mind.

How many people have you let die because you couldn't kill him?

And now –

'Reducto!'

A black shape lunged in front of him, shielding Harry from the curse, giving of a rat like squeal.

Voldemort was still prattling on, saying how the world will blame Harry for what has happened, how he who was a hero shall now be a villain and that it is him who the world will cheers for. Harry is hardly an equal to him like the Prophecy had said, not a challenge, not an adversary.

The rest fall away, from fear, awe and a sense of narrative.

There is always a final battle…

Was this it?

Harry made a move towards the demon, but the demon was quicker firing of a sickly mud light. You didn't have to be a genius to know it was dangerous.

No mercy.

The blade came up, still shining while covered in blood, the curse reflected of heading straight back the way it came. Voldemort gaped and barley pulled up a shield in time.

Harry was on him before he'd recovered, his blade cracking open the shield. Voldemort backed away casting multiple curses and hexes. Harry dodged through, an unstoppable force. Bringing his phoenix wand down he stopped a heart explosion curse in front of his face.

When Harry returned fire, Voldemort raised his wand to shield himself again.

There.

He flung the sword onwards letting it fly across the room.

Voldemort's wand was cut in two.

Harry didn't want this to be a fight about magic. This was about something deeper.

What was Voldemort without his magic?

Harry strode calmly forward

Voldemort desperately clutched the remains of his wand.

'No! No. Give me a wand!' He gestured to the circle of watchers. 'Give me a wand. I need a wand!'

The silent audience watched.

Voldemort turned to meet Harry's fist, he staggered and managed to dodge the next blow. Snarling he withdrew a dagger from his folds. Plunging it into the young man's chest.

'Did you really think you could match me?'

Harry kneed him in the groin, then without words he plucked his sword from the wall and swung at the bent over lord.

Awareness came back to Harry in storms and hurricanes.

He had preferred the bliss of rage.

The Dark Lord's body was lying in sea of blood. Wary watchers pressed against the walls, silent and still. The head lay against a wall.

Pain was beginning to flare in his abdomen, his own blood mingling with the sea.

He stumbled slowly over to a black mass, the body that had thrown itself in front of the cutting curse.

Kneeling he slowly pulled back the hood…

'Did you get them Harry?'

'Ron?'

His Secret Keeper.

'Hey mate.'

Ron coughed, his body was a mess, and the curse had ripped through one of his lungs

'Why Ron?'

'They killed Hermione!'

He found that the words didn't have a great affect as he thought they would, had he fallen so far that he could fall no further? Or was this just inconsequential next to his own loss.

'Her own parents turned her in Harry! Her parents! I wanted to kill them to hurt the muggles, but never you Harry! You're one of us – '

He sobbed in the unmistakable grip of Death.

'Ginny – '

'I didn't know! They said they would just arrest her! Bring her into safety. I – I didn't mean for things to happen this way.'

'But it still did.'

Harry stared at his old friend for such a long time. He knew no medical magic. No one here would help.

He was the Secret Keeper.

Harry placed the Sword of Gryffindor in the working hand of his best friend.

'You're dieing Ron… What would Hermione of thought of this?'

Ron started to cry as Harry turned away.

He would find absolution on the blade of a true Gryffindor.

He tuned out the scream, the sound of metal cutting through flesh; he kept walking as his last friend left the earth.

Tears came finally as it all ended, his white cloak pooling in the blood, suddenly fouled.

He was alone. The world was at war. Muggles versus Wizard. Wizard versus Muggle.

'I guess killing your wife was a good thing after all. It turned you into a true Adversary.'

He turned.

Voldemort's dismembered head was held aloft by its body.

It Laughed.

Dark immortal laughter.

And so I lived.

Haunted by what I've done.

Damned by all.

Living for the sake of living.

With a promise to rid the world of a Demon.

But that Demon was inside me as well.

Harry awoke from the dream, to find his body was gone. His spirit flying on the winds, crossing the land, drawn by something that was horrible familer to him. A connection he had hoped was gone.

The scope of the vision focused and then Harry was a part of it.

The house was still smouldering from the flames the next day. The resultant magical backlash had not so much set the place on fire but toasted it. Muggles were starting to crowd round the house; they couldn't remember it being there before. If fact to all appearances it had just sprung up yesterday, although all the legal information appeared to have always been there. It was as if someone had made the place invisible…

Welcome to Godric's Hollow.

Two teams had already combed the house for clues into the chain of events. A wizard team of Aurors and a Muggle police Crime Scene Squad. The wizards had recovered a total of two bodies; both were confirmed to have been killed by the unforgivable killing curse. Dumbledore had informed the Ministry after an hour that young Harry Potter had already been taken to keep safe and placed with his guardians. The muggles were later provided with the bare essential details and let loose after all magical involvement had been removed.

It was obvious from the forensic evidence of both teams that someone had broken into the house and killed the two adults inside.

However what happens next would be different depending on whether you asked a muggle or a wizard. Voldemort's Body wasn't anywhere within the wreckage of Godric's hollow, however his blood and magical signature pointed to death or extreme wounds.

If a wizard finds no trace of an attackers body, they would instantly assume that the body disintegrated. Or just disappeared, after all this is magic

A muggle on the other hand would say that either the attacker walked away alive, or a third party moved the dead body.

In fact the muggle would be correct for both assumptions.

It's not their fault they don't know about magic…

It was the first day.

Red eyes snapped open, then bled dry to leave behind a cold abyss.

The fire was still raging, pouring all the fury from the late Voldemort into the destruction of the once happy home. Lying just below the cot was a burnt body, horribly deformed; one arm was completely gone disintegrated from being to close to the blast from the reflected killing curse.

The reflected killing curse…

Struggling slowly the encrusted corpse crawled out of the maelstrom, the flames themselves parting to let it through.

Was this Hell?

A whisper from beyond the remains of the front door made him pause.

'Give him to me Hagrid. I'm his godfather I'll look after him.'

'Sorry Sirius lad, I've had orders ter bring him to Professor Dumbledore.'

The first voice let out a sob.

Sirius Black and Rubeus Hagrid.

'Please Hagrid! I don't have anything else left.'

A grunt. 'Well – Yer – I know yer don' but I've got me orders see'

'ORDERS BE DAMNED!'

'Sirius where yer goin now?'

'Take my bike. It'll get you to Dumbledore safely.'

'Wha – Yer should come too…'

'I have something I need to do. Tell him to expect me later.'

With that the voices trailed of, a roar surged through the sky disappearing into the distance.

The corpse stayed leaning against the door for some time. Parts of its mind were sparking heavily while others crumpled from the damage to the brain. There was no wand around. Who had taken it?

A muggle was on the front lawn. She looked as though she were just about to risk running inside the building to see if there were any survivors. She screamed when she saw it emerge from the wreckage, bits of flesh peeling off, blood already burnt to the body as the remains of the black cape curled like the smoke around it.

Then suddenly it was in front of her, left hand around her neck, cutting her off mid-scream.

Stupid muggles.

The corpse used its inhuman strength to slam her to the floor. The screaming stopped.

Concentrating with the remains of its mind, the corpse tried to focus through its remaining arm to cast a wandless spell, the Imperio unforgivable would make this little muggle a nice slave. It called up it's magic and –

The world hummed.

Icy cold chains suddenly wrapped around the magic, forcing it down. Caging it. Making it useless. Webs criss-crossed the Corpse's mental vision, filling its mind with the pain that pure light brings. It was everything the corpse hated. The scream that erupted came from deep within his gut, billowing out into the night.

It's magic was useless.

The universe didn't want him there.

'Wh – What are you?' Whispered the terrified girl.

Eyes without eyelids peered down at her, deep Onyx within the charred mess. The eyes have sometimes been called a window to the soul. This is true, for a given sense of the word. A soul that had once been as mundane as black linen sheet now resembled something more readily found in a medieval torture chamber.

'I am The Blood Lord.'

When the future Half-Blood Prince had taken the blood of the future Lord Voldemort, he had thought it would help him gain more power. He hadn't thought of what he might have to lose to obtain it. Snape had never had to perform and dark rituals. He could live forever by the Philosophers Stone. Voldemort had performed many rituals. To gain power, to gain knowledge, to gain immortality, to gain back a body after one had been destroyed; to gain power that he had lost and to keep his fragile form going. Snape wasn't prepared for this blackened magic. He who had considered himself one of the darkest of wizards had never touched the type of magic Voldemort had. And the accumulative darkness of it had spread even more, warping him into something else.

And now he was forced into this abomination of a body.

Sirens sounded of into the distance, The Blood Lord sneered and choked the muggle.

'Hide me! Or I will shred your soul; fling your mind into the deepest region of hell and feast on your flesh.' Finding that his powers of psychic legilimency were still intact The Blood Lord brought down the power of his will upon the muggle girl.

'Yes Master.'

A/N:

Well What do you think...
Do the Flashbacks/Dreams show the corruption of Harry by the Horucrux properly?
Is Harry portrayed correctly?
What Events from Harry's past will you most like to see?
Is the Blood Lord a stupid name? If so… blame Snape!
What do the visions of The Blood Lord mean?
Is this a good match of angst, drama and action?
Oh yeah last thing… this is Past-Ginny/Harry it's not going to be Future-Ginny/Harry mainly because it's not his wife and when he first see's her she'll be 11 and not see his wife but a kid instead.

Ravus