A/N Well, since the prologue was so lacking our favorite snake here is a whole chapter of him...and a side dish of the Apocalypse, just to spice things up. ;)
The year mentioned in the beginning of the chapter if just a something to orient you in the timeline as there has been a time skip. I usually don't set timelines - they are a loose concept and I like it this way. However you will see that as there is an overlap with some real life events I felt I needed to corral the timeline.
Also the mentions of real life events are very perfunctorily based on my knowledge of them. They are simply a plot device and should be read as such.
Year 2002 , summer
Chapter 1: Introduction to a brand new World
The street was empty and the only sound was the chilly wind that threw trash around – rolling wrappers from the near fast-food restaurant and ripped plastic bags. There was an infrequently flickering street light not too far away that did nothing to penetrate the gloom of the alley's end.
This fact served to hide the sudden appearance of a convulsing, shuddering, naked human, curled into a fetal position.
The wind blew and the trash rolled over him for a long time until the figure gradually lay still and then slowly straightened until it was leaning heavily on one hand, half-sitting.
Thick black hair obscured most of its face but it was apparent it was a young male, with pale skin and a lean but powerful build.
The figure remained that way for a few minutes more then with a fluid ease of movement rose to its feet to an above-average height of at least 6 feet, maybe 6.2.
Once up there was no reminder of its previous condition – it strode purposefully towards the mouth of the alley, apparently heedless of its nakedness.
The shadows at the corners seemed to leap and dance, as if they were trying to elongate and connect with the man's own. And it was a strange shadow indeed that followed the man for the first few steps – it was most assuredly not man-shaped but formless and jagged, like someone had taken a piece of dark cloth and slashed and hacked at it until it was a mass of tendrils.
But with every step he took it seemed to pull together and after a few not-quite accurate forms finally it mirrored the tall man's shape.
The man stepped out onto the streets of Al-Jahra, Kuwait.
Viper stood looking at the moonlit asphalt of the Highway of Death. The six-lane highway that led from Kuwait city straight to the border of Iraq was empty of all life. The debris of the Gulf War had been largely removed and the road itself – fixed, but he could still feel the presence of Her dark power.
This kind of interference was rare and a feat for his Goddess. That is why she needed him – to breach the mortal world from whence he had once been and be the harbinger of her dark power, to open the way for her so she could rule what was rightfully hers to take.
But the Rules were what they were and she was prevented from doing this by her inability to directly subjugate the human soul to her bidding – to deny them this 'free will' they so carelessly took for granted.
This road was testament that The One had left a way for the rightful ruler of humanity to take her throne again.
With these thought, Viper rolled the sleeves of his tunic, heedless of the blood smear on the left cuff, and started dragging the bodies out of the beat-up Honda.
It would take a while to exsanguinate them but needs must. The ritual demanded human blood, taken by force and untainted by magics until it was used to draw the runes, so he would have to do it the old-fashioned way.
He smiled. It was strange but good to be in this world again. With every minute he spent in this realm buried memories of his previous life became clearer and he felt more and more at home.
Of course the only true 'home' was by his Goddess's side, but his would do for the time being.
The sun shone like it was determined to bake him alive and his new-old human body took some getting used to. He had forgotten the particularities of 'the human condition'. He had spent so much time in a form that had almost all human things stripped that it was a bit of a shock to feel through his skin again, to see with imperfect human eyes.
While it was true that he could remedy most of those fallings, which he had not thought of as such before his Goddess taught him otherwise, it would interfere with his goals.
He needed to be human. He needed to eat, sleep, think like a human. He was the bridge between her darkness and the chaos of Earth as humanity knew it. It was a delicate balance and failure was not an option.
He had driven the Honda and the bodies deep into the desert, away from his newly-cast trap, just in case, and left it there.
Now he walked the scorching sands and waited for nightfall, when he would be free to use Her gifts and go to the next target.
The ocean was vast and cold, dark in a way that no other habitat on Earth could be. The pressure was such that Caesar felt it through him whole being , his tentacles we thick and he was big enough that few things would dare stand in his way even in the abyss.
He was hunting and his pray was there, the clicks it made traveled through his body and he rocked towards it.
This deep there was no light, even the little blinks of the colorless, but glowing fish and such didn't make it far. But he didn't need light and he could feel it close, closer…
It had felt him as well and was turning to intervene in his approach but he was faster, better. His tentacles wrapped around it, suctioning with great force into the slick surface of its skin as he dragged it even further down.
It twisted and bit through one of his tentacles with its dagger-like teeth, but the pain only made him angry and he squeezed harder. It was using its powerful body to try and twist away but it only succeeded in damaging both of them further, tearing into any of his tentacles that dared move closer to its mouth.
They were sinking, and the pressure was building, he had caught it in an opportune moment – it was almost out of breath. He only needed to hold on through its weakening struggles a little longer.
But his own wounds were too much, his strength was leaving him. He held on until the last possible moment…
The two great beasts of the ocean – a giant squid, far bigger than the one at Hogwarts, and it's pray the sperm whale died together. They bodies falling into the absolute blackness of the Mariana trench and completing the offering for Viper's ritual.
He opened his eyes and it took a moment for him to return to awareness in his own body, floating above the surface of the ocean, some ten kilometers above where he had left the ancient mind of the giant squid at the last possible moment.
He almost felt sorry for having to destroy the creature. He would have preferred another human sacrifice but it wasn't a viable option for this ritual.
Looking at the star-lit skies above him he was ready to move on.
A dip in the rolling of the ocean created a shadow that in a blink of an eye slid over him and by the time the future wave had passed both the shadow and Caesar was gone.
3 months later
The past three months were highlighted by no less than two devastating earthquakes – both hitting close to major populated areas with the number of victims still rising and thought to soon pass over 150 000.
There were three tsunami waves – two in the so called Ring of Fire – one hitting the Phillipines with a rage that had not been seen in hundreds of years and another tearing close to 10km into the California coast. The loss of life was enormous so people didn't notice as much that the third one, the least devastating of the three, happen in a highly unlikely area, one that had not seen one since 6100 BC, like Scotland.
It did not wash as far inland as the others and it was comparatively smaller than the other two but even if it was not as grand it served a powerful purpose as the whole magical population as far as Glasgow felt the tremendous, malicious power of the dark waters. It burrowed into their chests and turned them frozen inside out with the feeling of helplessness, fear.
It would become clear less than a week later, despite the Ministry's best efforts to keep the news from the public, that during the Tide the Dementors of Azkaban had fled their posts and have disappeared without a trace.
In the months following there was a surge of activity by the non-humans of the realm. The Obliviators were working overtime didn't seem to manage under the onslaught of unprecedented numbers of breaches of the Statue of Secrecy. There were sightings of Goblins by Muggles, dead bodies, drained dry as parchment, undoubtedly the work of rogue Vampires, there were child disappearances and suddenly the Hags were nowhere to be found. Banshees' screams would echo across England not unlike the last Great War.
The state of the Ministry in England was fast deteriorating and it was not alone in its struggles. Across the globe Magical communities were slowly being exposed by rogue creatures which seemed to have suddenly reverted to their most base nature despite their previous years and centuries of somewhat civilized coexistence with most magical and non- people.
By the end of the year there was an outbreak of some strange kind of Inferi creature in the Middle East, originating somewhere on the Iraqi – Kuwait border. Unlike Inferi, which had to be created with a ritual and murder, these seemed to multiply on their own. They were like a disease – endlessly hungry for living flesh which rose to join them once killed and fed on.
The Muggles' war in the Middle East suddenly became a bridge for the unknown disease to cross back onto the North America continent and from there it spread like wildfire.
In less than a year the world became unrecognizable. The infestation of the undead the Muggles called 'zombies' wasn't even the biggest concern. It forced world leaders that had previously adhered to the Accords with their Magical brethren to demand their help as in their mind the menace was undoubtedly magical in nature.
The Confederation of wizards held one of the most attended meetings it has even had as the Statue of Secrecy was uncompromisingly destroyed and the separation of the magical and non- was fast blurring with explosive consequences.
On this historic meeting Albus Dumbledore gave an impassioned speech in support of the establishment of closer relations with the Muggles. He put forth the idea that since the disease had destroyed the Statue there was no viable option for the two worlds to exist if diplomatic relations were not established fast and the two integrated as much as possible. He quoted notable instances where the Muggle world had been of help to the magical, their evolution beyond the mentality of segregation of the 'different' that had led to such disaster in past ages.
"We must unite. We must rise to the challenge and battle this new peril side by side, or be destroyed by it!" , he finished, periwinkle eyes glittering with conviction, pose forbidding and powerful – the Vanquisher of Grindelwald stood in the amphitheater of the Confederation.
He lost.
The vote for Unification did not pass by a relatively small margin.
Instead the magical chose to remain secluded, to raise wards and segregate themselves from the Muggles as they had done for hundreds of years and ride out the storm.
They did continue research into the plague but it was kept separate from any efforts the Muggles made and kept hitting dead ends.
Viper looked around his London hotel room and considered that despite the infestation of the undead and the tensions with the Magicals, the Muggles were doing pretty good for themselves.
He had only had to pass a quick VS, short for Virus scan, that seemed to pop up on every public building's doorways almost overnight, and flash enough currency and he had a very acceptable room on the third floor of one of the few still functioning hotels in the city. Anything below the second floor was uninhabited as a precaution in case of a 'zombie rush' as they called it.
Despite the veneer of normality his door had a heavy bar and direct access to the fire-escape behind a window with heavy, lock-able shutters – another innovation in case there was need for a quick evacuation. This way the guests were kept as far away from each other and confined spaces if there was an outbreak.
He liked this new world. It was all about survival, growing more ruthless every day as people settled into a kind of war-time mindset.
There was army in the streets, barriers on almost every road and anyone even suspected of being infected was shot on sight.
He lay down and closed his eyes imagining the world beyond his window and fell asleep with a smile.
It took him close to two days until he managed to find a suitable infiltration point into the MI5.
Since the big Revelation they seemed to have partnered up with rogue Muggleborn Wizards and warded all the best targets to hell and back.
It took him a further two hours to find the director's office and ten minutes of absent loitering in the man's chair waiting for him.
The director of MI5 turned out to be a rather unimpressive bloke at first sight. He was a little on the thin side and had thinning gray hair, a most boring suit and a forgettable face.
The one thing that gave him away were the watery brown eyes that didn't take even a second to recognize Viper as a threat and reach for a panic button on his belt.
Viper grinned at him and let him press it. He then sat quiet and relaxed under his scrutiny until the five fit young men in civilian clothing and very much not civilian weapons burst through the door.
He didn't break his gaze with the director even as he knew the little red laser sights started paying on his chest and head.
The team moved to contain him and he did not struggle in the least. Only looking away as he was forced to his knees then his belly on the floor, with a highly uncomfortable knee in his back as his wrists were zip-locked together.
He was thoughtfully searched, which did not yield anything of interest of course, and then hauled up on his knees again, with at least two automatic weapons aimed at his head.
He smirked at the director who was yet to speak as well.
"Pleased to meet you, Director. I am Viper and you want to speak to me", he said lightly.
The Director's eyes flicked over him, taking him in. He was a young man, obviously in shape, with a rather distinctively attractive face, dressed in a plain dark blue shirt and black trousers, worn running shoes and absolutely no personal affects that his guards could find.
"Why would I want to do that?", he spoke finally challenging him with his look.
"Because this war you have been fighting on two fronts is about to escalate in ways you can't even imagine yet and the Muggle world would not survive and keep its freedom as is. I am here to make sure you do."
The director studied him for another movement then nodded at the guards.
"Take him to Holding" , he said and stepped out of the way as his security team near dragged Viper out.
Viper grinned to himself as he watched the gaping drones of the secretarial staff stare at his escort and him.
They left him in the brightly lit, gray-walled, empty room for more than a day during which he received three meals of water, which tasted like chemicals, and some re-hydrated rations, which he ignored.
He sat in against a wall, not even in a corner, for lack of any furniture and amused himself going through his slowly clearing human memories. He remembered Hogwarts better now. Dumbledore, Snape…Voldemort.
Oh, he wanted to go into the Wizarding world and see how the Dark Lord was running his take-over, not that he had the perfect opportunity. He knew he had regained a body, probably using that interesting stone Viper had helped him recover, but he only had a general view of the goings on the that world, as She had given him before he came.
He hoped he had taken the Ministry already – he would make a much finer enemy than that old man Dumbledore. He could almost taste the carnage when Wizards and Muggles finally came across an even battlefield. The ground would drown in blood, the rivers would run red and Her way would be clear, back to Her kingdom as it once was supposed to be.
But he had to be patient. He would have his chance to see the other side soon.
The Director of MI5 had spent a considerable time, even taking account of the piles of urgent reports piling on his desk, trying to uncover the identity of their new prisoner. That insolent kid that seemed to just appear in the very heart of one of the more guarded buildings in the whole of Britain, just did not exist.
He had his spies, even in the Ministry of Magic, but even they could not uncover a single thing about him. He had scoured the international databases, gotten cooperation from the Americans and Interpol even, but the young man was a ghost.
On hour 27 since his appearance an analyst knocked timidly on his office door and fidgeted with a couple of yellow folders in her hands.
He waved her in. Nathalie may seem timid, but she was like a blood hound when she had to find that piece of crucial information and he finally he had hope that there was progress identifying the intruder.
She put the folders before him and he had to frown as he saw the archive stamp of 'Diseased' on both.
Never-the-less he looked at her patiently as he tugged on her disheveled bun, somehow held together with a pencil and, was that a spork? An idle thought that the staff was becoming overworked flitted through his mind.
"Sir, this may sound insane, but I believe I've found him", she motioned to the folders and he opened them.
Out of the first one the lean face and dark eyes of a young man stared with a stony look. He knew this one, even if only peripherally. He had been a gun for hire of a sort – a strange bled of an assassin and a thief, for some of the organized crime syndicates, predominantly active in the London area. He had been good, clean and professional. They would have tried recruiting him if their psy ops hadn't decided his psychological profile did not fit the Service.
It was obvious he was not who they were looking for, so he opened the second folder.
The photo was obviously taken with a tele-lens but it was a good picture of a child, maybe eight or nine, with bright green eyes and a handsome face, looking somewhere to the left of the one taking the shot.
It was him. The Director leaned closer, shifting in his chair to spread the few pieces of paper in the file on his desk.
Caesar Davies, alias Viper.
Obviously he had missed that Davies had taken a child in, not to mention actually adopted him somehow. The file listed date of birth November 1, 1981 and one of death eleven years later. The latter had a little 'MoM' notation that the information about it had been verified by …
"The Ministry of Magic?" , he muttered
"Yes, they were the ones to sent notice of his death through the regular channels", Natalie's voice brought him back from the rapid thoughts running thought his head" In fact there were two notices because there seemed to be some sort of confusion on both sides, as they insisted his name was Harry Potter, son of James and Lilly Potter of Godric's Hallow. However no such register of birth exists in our system so we ran facial recognition and came up with Caesar Davies. As such his death was re-confirmed and his file closed, as per procedure" , she rattled off.
In that moment another of the analysts appeared with a few other files and handed them to Natalie, who in turn gave them to the Director.
"This is all we have on his presumed biological parents. As you can see his mother was Muggleborn and still has living family in Surrey. His father was old blood Pureblood and thus all the information we have on him is what little we received by the MoM. However our spies have quickly reported that the name Harry Potter is well known among wizards as the only human to survive being struck by the Killing Curse. He was a year old at the time of the event, both Potters were killed, the perpetrator is Lord Voldemort.", she finished, seeming a little hesitant at those last words.
The situation with the Magical world and the leading political wave in their government was a hot topic for everyone in their government.
"Is there any word on the alleged circumstances of his death?", he asked returning to the 'Viper' folder.
"The Magicals tried to cover it up but there was an exposé by a reported, Rita Skeeter, on the link between Caesar Davies and Harry Potter. It would seem they concur our own assessment that he was killed during his own assault on the mansion of one Geoffrey Boot, following the bombing of the Amon Christmas Party. "
The Director recalled that one – a mess on all fronts, agents injured, civilian casualties by the dozen.
"I seem to remember the Amon bombing was the work of that fucker the Bird and his mercenaries? Didn't we get them six months later? What does that have to do with this little sociopath's revenge run against Boot?"
"Yes, Director, but I believe there is a connection between the two. Boot was a known associate of Davies, the elder, also had some differences with Amon. We suspected his involvement in the bombing but his death negated the need for us to involve ourselves with the family further. "
The Director leaned back and flicked the file away in disgust.
"So we have conjecture, information passed by the MoM and someone who might be the apprentice of one of the most prolific hired killers in England, breaking into my office, in broad daylight.", he paused, then steeled himself and motioned Natalie out the door.
"Go, do your thing. I want every scrap of information we can get before we work him over"
Agent Thomson looked down at the sputtering mess that was their prisoner and suppressed a shiver.
The kid was at most half-conscious, soaked through, blindfolded head hanging from the side of the metal table and still he had that fuckin' smile on his face. It was like he knew something they didn't and all their efforts to get it out of him were beyond pitiful.
He had cooperated when they had asked him about his name and origins. He'd even admitted he was a wizard, even though his exact words had been a bit strange as he talked about being a wizard in the past tense.
But this was not his first time interrogating a head-case or a sociopath, as he believed the kid was, and he could ignore his youth in the name of Queen and Country.
"Bring me the wires", he said to one of the guards and turned the subject on his side before he went unconscious.
After all – the classics were such for a reason.
Three days later, five days after Viper appeared in the Director's office, Agent Thomson was occupying the seat across from the man himself.
"You have tried everything?", he was asking, leaning forward in his chair as he was wont to do when interested in what he expected to hear.
Thomson's harsh face was set in a stone mask. It was not often he had to report a failure to his boss.
"Everything but the Veritasserum. Out own truth serums have proved ineffective despite application in conjecture to various techniques."
"Still he maintains that he would speak only to me? Has he not made any mention of why or about the topic of so called discussion?"
"No, sir. I would like to request authorization for use of the Veritasserum on the subject"
The Director looked at him for a few seconds then leaned back and shook his head lightly.
"No, our supply is finite at this point. I would exhausted every other option before authorizing its use", he said and Thomson had to hide back a grimace.
To have the Director need to un-fuck his failure was beyond an affront to his professional pride.
The Director looked at the pitiful figure – bruised, bleeding from a scrap on his neck, shirt torn down to its waist and hanging wetly and limply around his hips.
He looked worn and exhausted but his eyes were clear and almost seemed to laugh at him over those mocking lips, curved in the smallest expression of condescending amusement.
The young man was propped sitting against a wall, listing a little to the right where he could see the ugly bright purple bruise layered over a similar one with a greenish tinge. His ribs we probably a little more than bruised by this point but it wasn't life threatening according to the attending physician.
"Director", despite his physical state Davis's voice was even and strong," I see you've finally realized how futile this whole exercise has been"
The Director didn't react despite the subtle tone of mocking.
Davis's lips stretched further and he adjusted his position against the wall until he was as upright as he could manage.
"Well then, I'd assume you want to know how I got in?" , he said further and met the Director's eyes.
The Director couldn't help but think those were the greenest eyes he had ever seen. If they hadn't been so devoid of any warmth they could have been called beautiful.
"Correct, Mr. Davies", the Director kept his answer laconic, testing the young man.
"In that case you are out of luck", stated Davies, easily dismissive, "However what you will receive information much more important than the parlor tricks one could use getting into your precious MI5"
The Director didn't think so but he was prepared to listen. They were out of options for interrogating him and such perseverance meant the at least in Davies's mind he did have such information. In all probability he was going to give them some Family members holed up in some remote zombie infested region, hoarding weapons or some wizard fraction behind magical shields they would not be able to pass.
Davies grinned at him as if he had read his mind.
Suddenly his eyes seemed to blaze with something that the Director could only describe as power, freezing the man as Davies leaned forward and with a few words turned the Director's world on its head.
"I can give you magic"
A/N : Here it is. I think it would have surprised a few of you as I've taken it in a direction that may or may not seem strange to you all, but rest assured it will all tie together very soon. Yes, even the zombies :D
Review and leave your thoughts - that always makes my brain hamsters move!