Harry Potter: Dark Lord, Loving Father

"Only, I don't mean to report you, Raphael. I want to know if you'd be willing to help me with a little project of mine...."

–

Chapter 14: Between Knowing and Understanding

Hadrian knew.

And what he knew about Kaleb Raphael Smith was that the boy was altogether different from the rest of his family. More so than the boy thought already, really. Of course, being a Slytherin often went hand-in-hand with powers such as these, but didn't always mean the other.

"What's this... project?" the redhead asked, somewhat doubtful and cautious, especially after what had just happened.

'Good,' Hadrian's thoughts echoed, 'the boy should fear me.'

Turning gleaming dark eyes back to Smith, Hadrian smiled devilishly. "I seek the power of the darkness of the world itself," he whispered, nearly a breath. Draco had warned him of going after this power, as his dream had as well, but it was something he could not easily quell within himself; he'd so nearly had control of it in his previous life, it wouldn't do to loose it once more.

He knew what he had to do, this time.

"The darkness?" Raphael questioned, his face full of mixed emotions that stirred up thoughts and memories within. It was a whirlwind of information that swept him up, making him dizzy with its speed and viciousness. But, at long last, he came to something that might give him a clue to what his professor was getting at. "You mean..." he breathed, slowly opening his eyes to look Harry squarely.

Harry's twisted smile was all that Raphael needed to know.

This was going to take quite a while, needless to say. And it would require a good deal of effort, especially on Harry's part, if he wanted to succeed, that is.

"I want to tell you what you need to know to help my on this endeavour," he began, unravelling the tale of Hadrian and his quest for power as the Dark Lord, as Salazar Slytherin's son, as the one who failed to embrace the Slytherin Code fully and was cursed to be reborn again and again until he finally made good his promise to his father all those years ago.

Considering all that made up Harry in the present, it was astonishing (to Raphael) to find out that the person Harry – or really, Hadrian – was now. He was a man that was baptised in blood of his enemies uncountable times, written to be the most terrible and horrifying of all Dark Lords, including Voldemort, if at all possible. And that man was the saviour?

All of this made Raphael wonder what Hadrian had done to manage to be cursed in such a way – it sounded like the man had certainly followed what he'd promised his father, yet.... There was something that was off about the entire thing. Why was it that it was only the son of Salazar Slytherin that failed, not the others? Perhaps it was something that Hadrian had explicitly promised his father, unknowingly? If that was the case, he'd merely have to ask Salazar for clarification and it could be accomplished.

Then, there was the idea that Hadrian Xanthus Slytherin, who was now Harry Potter, was the Master of Death, as well. It meant that no matter what the opposition attempted, Hadrian was for all purposes concerning humans and mortal capabilities, unable to be killed. And, going by the maddening look that was plastered to Hadrian's face, Raphael was guessing that he was going to be a part of his grand scheme, if it was to be called that.

"What would you like me to do?" he inquired, a bit lost on how he'd be able to help, of all people.

"You house a power that I've never been able to acquire. Apparently, it's something that's passed down or inherited, not something that you can suddenly get or practice, just by learning and doing the motions," Harry explained, very interested in Raphael once more. "You've a Necromancer, Kaleb Raphael Smith," he breathed, the lust and longing clear in his deep, twisted voice.

Although Raphael wasn't the type to faint, this was his cue to do just that.... And the darkness surrounded him.

–

Unbeknownst to Raphael, Hadrian was well in charge of Raphael's kind, as he was the Master of Death, and Necromancers were in charge of raising the dead souls and all that encompassed. The young Necromancer knew nothing of his powers – or very little, at the least – and Hadrian would use that very well to his advantage. After all, Necromancers were hard to find, in the days when such things were outlawed by the Ministry and would be treated as nothing more than a nuisance.

Normally, in fact, Necromancers were found out by the strange way that things tended to die around them – nearly anything that they touched (skin contact) for longer than a minute, it was estimated. At first, when they were younger (around three to five years of age), it would merely be small plants and insects, but by the time they turned twenty, a Necromancer, trained well in the Arts, would be capable of killing a person with just a touch. Of course, that was the curse of being such a thing, but it was usually by the age of eight or nine that coincidences were no longer mistakes that happened at suspicious times, but it was often found out by the parents, at least, that their child was indeed a Necromancer. That was when the Ministry was called to "take care" of the "evil thing" that was once their child.

There was a time when Necromancers were feared. It was for a well-based reason, despite many Dark Arts practitioner's protests: Necromancers could not stand each other and would use every method in the book to get rid of each other, often resulting in a massive amount of deaths in a concentrated area of the country that was plagued by two or more of these Death Art practitioners. Those times are long past, but the fear of the Necromancers remains, as the birth of a seemingly innocent child that slowly begins showing it's powers surfaces, only to be immediately erased by the Ministry's employees.

Raphael, however, was different from the others, because he was raised from an early age not to associate with such things that would make him any less "manly". He was to only touch his toys, not flowers, or other such things in nature that were more feminine and girlie, respectively. Therefore, the initial signs that would have been displayed in his younger years were avoided and he still managed to stay alive and go on with his life – and was turning seventeen just before September this year. Of course, incidents were not altogether avoided, but were written off as strange or coincidence, as he hadn't been found out as a smaller child.

And now, as there was a law regarding the age at which the Ministry could dispose of such a problem, Raphael was in the clear (he had been since he turned thirteen) to practice his Arts without the fear of being put to death by the wizarding government of England.

–

Raphael groaned, rubbing the back of his head, which throbbed painfully when he shifted himself on the bed. Wait. How did he manage to wind up in a bed to begin with?

"Hey," a disjointed voice greeted him, softly, thankfully.

As he sat up, gritting his teeth against the pain, Raphael grouped for his glasses, finding them after a few seconds searching, then replacing them on his face. "Al," he realized, still waking up and still aching from hitting his head. He couldn't remember what he hit it against, though – that would come for later.

"Dad said that you fainted. Too much sun, or something," the younger Slytherin told his friend, smiling lightly, a bit shy and awkward in the current situation.

"Sun?" Raphael questioned, confused, forgetting his pains. "I was sitting in the shade when I fainted – your father was talking to me about the power of the darkness and how Hadrian...." He stopped, realizing that he was losing the boy. Looking closer at Albus, Raphael came to guess at the reason why he'd lost his fellow Slytherin. "Do you know who Hadrian Xanthus is, Al?"

"Other than that's what Salazar calls my dad (he calls him Hadrian, for whatever reason) and that Hadrian Xanthus Slytherin is Salazar's son, who was supposedly the most terrible Dark Lord to date," Al related to Raphael, raising his eyebrows at his friend. "Why?"

"You don't know?" the redhead asked, shocked that Al didn't know – or perhaps Harry was keeping his son ignorant of the whole thing? But, why tell him? ...That's right: he's a Necromancer. However strange and outlandish that may sound, it felt right to Raphael, no matter how he wanted to reject it and write it off to some strange dream he had because of the sun warping his brain.

But, if Harry didn't wish to disclose this information that was rather sensitive to his own son, Raphael would have to respect such a decision, despite how backwards that sounded to him. There was likely a good reason behind this, he knew, at least, with Hadrian. Best leave such things alone, for now.

"Never mind," Raphael waved off, grinning at Al after a few seconds. He'd rather not talk to Al about Scorpius – after all, Scorpius was Al's best friend. They were nearly attached at the hip, according to a number of people at school. Sighing, he got out of the bed, stretching, not looking at Al, who was watching him a little too intently, reminding Raph much of his father. "Did you need help on that Runes homework?"

"Er, yeah," Albus confessed. "I really don't get what that old German guy wants from us, honestly."

–

"You're pitiful," Hadrian spat, his eyes flashing red in his anger over Raphael's failure to kill the rat.

"It's not as if I know what to do," he retorted, scowling, wanting to just crush the thing with his bare hands – it's not as if he couldn't do that. It was supposed to come with being a Necromancer, according to Harry... Hadrian, whoever it was any more. Only when the wiggling thing in his hand went strangely still did he look back at it, inspecting it. "Dear Merlin, I am a Necromancer..." Raphael muttered after double checking to see if the rat was dead.

"And I was beginning to worry," came the sarcastic reply from a few metres away. "I suppose you did really kill it, didn't you? Feel anything?"

"Just..." Raphael thought, attempting to recall what exactly it was he felt when the live animal went still in his hand. "Nothingness? I'm not really sure about it, yet."

"Then, try again!" Hadrian commanded, tossing the Slytherin beater another scrawny rat. "This time, concentrate on what you're doing, please."

"Yes, sir," Raphael agreed, holding the rat tightly, but not too tightly in his large hand, staring at it for a while. He easily got tired of watching the thing try to escape, so he closed his eyes, concentrating on the power he'd felt so vaguely just a few minutes ago.

And with a great rush within him, Raphael felt the rat go still, opening his eyes quickly to verify what he'd just felt was his previously dormant Necromancy powers. "Whoa," he breathed, amazed by the new experience.

"Exactly – feels quite good, yes? That's why people are afraid of Necromancers, Raphael – they fear their power, their potential, their love for their Art," Hadrian taught the young man, grinning deviously all the while. "You'll be a wonderful Necromancer, Raphael – better than the ones I knew as Hadrian Slytherin, indeed."

--

Great thanks goes to Moogle (Boogum) on this one, who's the creator of Raphael's brother, Ifrin Smith -- who will be appearing later, when school starts again -- for the help on some parts of this story; when I got stuck, she gave me splendid ideas. Also, thanks to my reviewers and questioners!

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and questions will be welcomed and answered to the best of my ability. Thank you again.