Harry Potter: Dark Lord, Loving Father
Chapter 12: The Darkness
"You're kidding me, right, Potter?" Draco ground out, seething, although he tried his best at controlling his anger in front of his master.
Harry merely shook his head, smiling his twisted smile that foretold Hadrian's malicious reappearance. "I am not, dear fautor. As my father might have forewarned you, I'm not quite the same person I used to be, after reliving all of those memories. And it's all thanks to your wonderful potions, might I add."
Draco seemed as though he regretted this in the slightest for a second, but recovered easily, shaking the whole thing off as if it were nothing. "I apologize for--"
"No need, Draco – as long as you follow my orders on what I want you to do with Daphne, things will be just swell in the end," he whispered, baring his teeth in a devilish grin.
"I'm pleased that you would meet me instead of Draco – he's so terribly busy once more," Harry told the witch that was sitting across from him, smiling in earnest, nothing of the beast that lingered in the shadows showed itself in such a public setting.
"You should be glad that I'm willing to be seen with you, Potter," Professor Greengrass recanted, sneering at the man who was escorting her to her seat. "At least you're dressed well," she commented – the first complimentary thing that she'd said the entire evening to Harry, and likely the only thing, too.
"Anything that would please you, my dear," he replied, pulling her chair out for her, then taking his own seat across from her, grinning at the waiter, who was ready to take down their drink orders.
Dinner was a lovely affair, with no interruptions, to Harry's great pleasure. The first time wasn't much of a success, since Daphne managed to flitted out of his grasp every time that he thought he had a grip on her. When he'd gotten back to Draco's rooms that night, he'd been in a terrible mood and even cursed the Malfoy when he got too far out of hand by suggesting that Daphne "just wasn't that interested" in him. Draco had once again learned the importance of keeping silent, least he welcome more wrath from his Lord.
Once dinner was over and Daphne settled back in her rooms, Harry managed to make his way back to his own rooms – he didn't even want to bother with his bloody annoying second tonight, for what it was worth. Just one night without those blasted potions would be restful, at the least. Of course, as he drifted off to sleep, the beginnings of other, much more grotesque nightmares stemming from his unconscious mind told him that it would have almost been better to take the potions from Draco and just get it all over with sooner. But once he fell into the dream, he couldn't shake himself from it, no matter how he tried....
"You bloody bastard!" Granger screamed at him, her once appealing face distorted in horrible anger. "How could you dare show your face here, after all you've done?!" she demanded of him, struggling against the robes that bound her to the poll.
"Ah, dear woman," Hadrian hissed, his blood red eyes the only thing that shown in the darkness of his cloak. It seemed as if the darkness itself was alive behind him, threatening to swallow Hermione whole as he moved closer to her, supposedly to inspect her a little closer. "You don't seem to know quite the extent of what exactly I've done, do you?" he asked, his strangely sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light.
"No!" she ground out.
"Yes, yes," he purred, his deep voice lined with something that was nothing near or to be considered emotion – not in the slightest. In fact, Hadrian was anticipating the beaten, battered and bloody woman before him to address such a thing.
"You've made a deal with the devil, that's what!"
"Not at all – I'm merely becoming what I used to be – a previous life, so to say," Hadrian told her, Harry's voice admitting this semi-truth to the person who he used to consider one of his closest friends.
"Then you've become a hollow shell of what you used to be, Harry!" Hermione Granger managed to spit at him.
He pulled his black cape away from her grovelling figure, sneering at her, baring his teeth, no longer in a false impression of a smile, but menacingly spiteful and full of rage and the urge to tear her apart, and revel in the blood and the gore that would spew from her. "I do not pity what will become of you, at all, witch."
"You know that he'll come after you, once he hears that I'm dead--"
"I'll let you believe that. The thing is," he continued, his face contorting in the darkness into seeming madness, "you won't be dead, my dear – not for a long, long time," he promised her. "I will give you a slow, painful death that I will cherish and enjoy so very much over the next few months."
"God give me mercy!" she wept, pure anguish radiating off of her, tears spilling down her dirty, bruised face.
"There is no god in this place – even Merlin would have condemned this place, had he known it would exist. No one will help you here," Hadrian whispered, slowly pulling off his robes, showing his pale white arms, the veins running through the muscles below the flesh appearing to be black in the poor light that lit the dungeons.
"You really have made a deal with the devil," she whimpered, nearly choking on her own tears.
"Not the devil, per say," he chuckled, baring his teeth once again as he pulled out the Elder Wand, calling forth the darkness itself to unleash its wrath upon his helpless victim....
Screaming, Harry woke to Draco's face, among all other things.
"You should've just taken the potion," he reminded, frowning very disapprovingly.
"I know," Harry groaned, sweat covering his face, tears poring down his face, weeping for his friend. "I still can't believe that I can think of doing these things to someone I used to know and love so dearly."
"She deserves it," Draco said, attempting to be the voice of reason in such a chaotic world that was now Harry's.
"Probably," he agreed, the tears beginning to dry, his mind finally forcing himself back into his usual habit. "Do you know of a spell that would conjure the darkness itself?" Harry wondered, his eyes now glowing with curiosity.
"Not without much sacrifice, some would say that you must-- "
"Make a deal with the devil?" Harry finished in a question, scowling as he saw his second's face light up in astonishment.
"How...?" the Malfoy asked in amazement more than anything.
"Let's just say I dreamt about it," he returned, sighing. "I'm not sure I really want to know, now," Harry admitted, burying his face in the palms of his hands, gritting his teeth. 'What have I gotten myself into?' he asked himself, closing his eyes, falling back into the darkness of unconsciousness. This time, the dream was more real – more of a memory (as such it was, from Hadrian's lifetime) than an actual nightmare....
He was out in a field, in the middle of the night. The wind was blowing, chilling him despite the robes and the heating charms he'd cast upon himself.
"Why must we--"
"For secrecies' sake," Salazar hushed him, scowling, pulling up the hood of his robes as he walked, arms crossed against his chest, the locket with the snake-like S carved into it gleaming in the light of the silver moon above them.
"But a cave? In the middle of godforsaken territory?" he hissed, disapprovingly.
"For what we do is something that God would not approve of," the Slytherin founder echoed, his voice low and weak against the power of the wind.
"You never told me what kind of ritual this was..."
"You'll know soon enough, son."
Such were the days that Hadrian began learning the intimacies of rituals and how they were performed and exorcised in his youth, until the day he turned twenty five, when he was told that he was through with his official training as a wizard and would now be trained in the delicate natures of how he would be a better assistant to his father with his duties. In these latter activities, Hadrian took no pleasure, but saw it as a trade for all that his father had taught him previously in his life. A sort of payment, in a way. It didn't mean that he enjoyed them any more, though.
Hadrian began to resent his father, for the first two years. However, the young man found that it was his father's intention to let his son see how to become a better Dark Lord, more in control of himself, his emotions and his anger. On the fifth year of this particular training, Hadrian saw the importance of being a more rational man when it came to torture and slaughtering villagers and those who stood against him in the quest for power....
Soon, he began to do his own research on powers that intrigued him the greatest – things that set a dangerous fire of passion and lust within him: shadows and the very nature of the darkness of the world, itself. He meant to control such things that were thought to be uncontrollable, to prove himself more than worthy of his father's title as Dark Lord. Perhaps if he were to control these powers, he would persuade his father to let him take over duties that someone as powerful as he was, letting someone else do the dirty work of cleaning up after the both of them.
Of course, Salazar saw his soon becoming so very overwhelmed by seemingly trivial pursuits and was troubled greatly by what passion his son was following them. Needless to say, however, the Dark Lord did nothing to dissuade his son from knowing more about such things – perhaps it would teach the boy not to play with fire, least he get burned....
Waking up, Harry realized that he would soon discover the answer that had been bothering him through his reliving of his own memories. It was a strange sensation, noticing how calm he was, waking up recently. The last few months, he'd been filled with rage and anger at Salazar and some unexplainable forces – now, it was if he woke up satisfied, yet dissatisfied, in a sense. It was something that he couldn't quite explain, yet.
The end of the year was approaching rather quickly, and he hadn't gotten much further with Daphne, much to his own despair, and knew that the summer would soon be a major set back in his plans to reign her in. He made plans with Draco so that Al and he would be able to stay at the Malfoy manor, rather than off to seek for a new place to stay. Harry'd rather not have to explain exactly why he needed a new place to settle in to people who merely knew what the wizarding posts were cycling through on their front covers. A load of gossip, if you asked him; he didn't bother much with the bloody things any more. Reading that boatload of crap wasn't worth his time – he had much better things to do....
Sorry for the delay -- it's been over a week, yes? Although Spring break should usually produce more work, I suppose it's in my nature to put things off until the last possible day: the last day of Spring Break; the first day of spring, itself.
I did this chapter on my own, surprisingly; but perhaps that's why it took so long to manage to get inspiration for the thing? Hn. Most of this was inspired heavily by The Darkness (comic) which I have fallen in love with for the second time with the release of issue #75. Hense, the name of this particular chapter. Now, while I am considering injecting a bit of this into the future chapters, it will still be of the same morbid quality and will not be a crossover of any sort. Merely, there will be some small influences and some concept ideas, that's all.
Thank you for sticking with me, despite all the crap -- this was much of a transitional chapter than anything else, I feel. A transition to much darker and more morbidness, of course. I may up the rating once again, due to the perhaps more graphic content? What's your take on it, my dear readers? Reviews are greatly appreciated, questions are greatly welcomed and answered.