Chapter 6. Dark Prince
[Warning: Dark Harry content in this chapter. Though I won't say this whole story is a Dark!Harry story…In the future, Harry would know what is right to do, and try to make up the mistakes he'd made.]
"This war is just a cover, and your real goal is… to fly away from death."
"Correct answer." Voldemort was indeed satisfied. He deliberately arranged for Harry to read relevant books and listen to the battlefield, which was actually a test. Clever little Harry passed the test perfectly and won the qualification of Voldemort's research assistant.
Voldemort's explanation was smooth because Harry had already read the books and had relevant knowledge reserves. There have been many attempts in history to extend life and pursue immortality, from rough attempts such as drinking unicorn blood to sophisticated attempts such as the Philosopher's Stone. The closest attempt may be making Horcruxes, but none of them can achieve true immortality and have many side effects. For example, unicorn blood brings curses, and cutting the soul may have a risk of reducing intelligence.
The kind of eternal he wanted, is free from dependence on external things, free from side effects, a true, eternal, "fly away from death".
By using the deaths of countless people as sacrifices and borrowing the life energy of others to replenish their own life loss, Voldemort can theoretically achieve immortality.
"When enough borrowed life energy is obtained, theoretically, through certain operations, a qualitative change can be produced from quantitative change, turning the beneficiary into a vortex that constantly absorbs external energy from nature to the universe!"Voldemort said with great passion, and that made him look a little terrifying.
"Which means… At that time, you would not need death sacrifices anymore."Harry understood.
"And no need to rely on magic rituals. This life form will achieve true immortality! Physically and conceptually immortal."
Without the need for a Philosopher's Stone or Horcrux, there are no side effects, and he would just not die.
Even if his body is shattered, he can regenerate himself. Even if his soul is destroyed, he can steal the soul energy of others to reproduce himself.
Tom Riddle was rejected by Hogwarts teaching position so as the Hogwarts library, but accidentally stumbled upon the Slytherin Castle, where he formed such a grand ambition while tirelessly reading in the castle's library. Later, in this independent space, he initiated this magic ritual.
Then, taking advantage of the social rifts created by the former Dark Lord, Grindelwald, he rallied Grindelwald's old followers and brought along a group of Slytherin people who already supported pure-blood beliefs. He launched the war in the name of opposing Muggle-borns.
After so many years, the war has never ended, and the two sides seem to be evenly matched. The mysterious person is very powerful, but he also makes some foolish mistakes, giving the rebels hope of victory.
The Death Eaters' attacks everywhere provide a steady stream of feed for his ritual. The Dark Mark is the conduit for transmitting death energy. As long as the Death Eaters have the mark on their arms or launch the Dark Mark into the sky after an attack, the energy of death can be transmitted to the owner of the mark.
If he truly supports pure-blood beliefs, he could have entered the Ministry of Magic and had more political skills to realize his story, which was also Tom Riddle's forte. How could powerful people dress up their political views as terrorists?
"When I called myself the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters called themselves Death Eaters, they still didn't see anything wrong with it."
The Dark Lord had deceived everyone, even though he had made it clear in the name of the "Death Eaters" and in his own name "Voldemort" what his intentions were. The irony was thick, but nobody saw through it, and he enjoyed this game immensely.
"Being a descendant of Salazar Slytherin certainly made things easier. Inheriting the will of our ancestors, purging the Muggle bloodlines, who would suspect anything?" Voldemort sneered. "Even Dumbledore didn't suspect me, even though he knew I wasn't a pure-blood wizard. Salazar was indeed a staunch believer in blood, but I'm not. I killed my father's family with my own hands and sent my own uncle to Azkaban, and then I followed him there to watch him die under the Dementor's kiss."
"You still have me." Harry's impulsive interruption cut through Voldemort's passionate monologue.
Voldemort paused and looked at Harry. "Hmm, yes, I still have you."
"Do it, Harry," Voldemort commanded coldly.
"I'm sorry...Avada Kedavra." Harry said as he watched the person fall and die. It was what his father had asked of him...how could he not do it? At least he could give the person a quick and painless death, sparing them further torture. Even if he didn't do it, his father would not spare the person, they would still die, wouldn't they? Harry reasoned with himself.
He had no desire to enjoy killing, but thanks to Voldemort's expert teaching, Harry had always been very skilled at controlling magic. He was able to manipulate the flow of magic and achieve the desired effect.
Harry had used the killing curse on a human for the first time when he was about nine years old. He hesitated at his father's request, but overcame his hesitation and did it. Afterwards, he was trembling all over. What had he just done?
His father patted his shoulder reassuringly, saying "Well done, you'll get used to it."
But his father was wrong this time. Harry couldn't get used to it. When he looked at the living people, their desperate eyes and pleas for survival reminded him of what he had experienced himself. He had begged those bad people not to hurt him. But now things had changed, he was in the position of those bad people and others were begging him for mercy.
After that first time, Harry never slept well again. He would often dream of those people and wake up in a cold sweat. He has developed resistance to several types of sleeping potions after drinking them repeatedly.
Sometimes he couldn't sleep at all, so he would get up and cast an energizing spell to himself, then continue working.
Harry had long since become Voldemort's research assistant, working from minor details gradually to important research branches. His father trusted him more and more and Harry worked very hard every day to please him. He searched for books, deduced theories, experimented, and searched for more books. This had been his daily routine for the past few years.
Some of the experiments even involved using people captured by the Death Eaters. Harry had to forbid himself to feel. He still couldn't get used to it...
Harry held his wand, but he hesitated to act.
"Do it, Harry," Voldemort commanded coldly.
"Sorry... Avada Kedavra," Harry said as he watched the person fall and die. This was what his father had asked of him... how could he not obey? At least he could give this person a quick and painless death to spare them from further suffering. Even if he didn't do it, his father would not spare this person, and they would still die, right? Harry convinced himself of this.
He had no desire for killing, but thanks to Voldemort's skilled teaching, Harry had always been adept at controlling magic. He was able to control the flow of magical power and achieve the desired effect.
Harry had used the Killing Curse on a human for the first time when he was nine years old. He hesitated at his father's request, but he overcame his doubts and did it. Then his whole body trembled. What had he done?
His father's approving voice came from far away, as if to console him. "Good boy, well done."
Next to him, Nagini was eating the dead person and said kindly, "Harry will surely do well, I know Harry has always been good."
"..." Little Harry tried hard to restrain his trembling body and did not answer his father and Nagini's words.
His father patted his shoulder as if to comfort him. "You'll get used to it."
But this time, his father was wrong. He seemed... he would never get used to this. When he saw those people still alive, their pleading eyes, and their pleas, it reminded him of what he had experienced himself. He had also begged those bad people not to hurt him. But now, the roles were reversed, and others were begging him.
Since that first time, Harry had never slept well again. He always saw those people in his dreams and woke up in a panic.
He drank several types of sleeping potions to no effect. Later, when Harry couldn't sleep, he simply cast a Wakefulness Charm on himself and continued working. He could barely sleep when he was exhausted from work, or rather, he would just pass out. It was a form of rest, too.
Harry had become Voldemort's research assistant, working on everything from small details to important research branches. His father relied on him more and more. Harry worked hard every day to satisfy his father, researching, deducing, experimenting, and reading books. Some experiments even involved using people caught by Death Eaters, but Harry forced himself to be numb. He felt he was still not good enough, and could never get used to this.
Harry gradually rose to become Voldemort's true right-hand man, as he was closer to Voldemort's true goals than any Death Eater. This year, Harry turned ten years old. His father decided to introduce him to the Death Eaters.
Voldemort didn't want to expose Harry's true information to outsiders, so before the Death Eater meeting, he made Harry drink an aging potion. Now Harry is very familiar with the effects of this magic potion and is no longer as surprised as he was when he was a child. He wore a more mature robe and a silver carved mask, covering his face and all his emotions.
The Death Eater conference was held in the Great Hall, located on the second floor of the main building of Slytherin Castle. The hall was very spacious and could accommodate hundreds of people. The decoration of the hall was very luxurious, with a shining silver tone dominated by bright silver decorations and dark green. The dark green curtains covered the windows, and many silver branches hung from the ceiling, magnificent and transparent. In the front was a magnificent podium, with Harry's father's throne on it, a very large and spacious chair that looked like it could seat at least two people. The dark green seat looked very soft, and the backrest and armrests were also decorated with silver gorgeous decorations, as if they were flowing.
This was a rare full member meeting of the Death Eaters, and all the Death Eaters had arrived. The hall was crowded with people, and the core members were in the front. Harry recognized Crabbe, Bellatrix, Malfoy, and Snape at a glance. These people were often called separately by his father in the small reception room. Harry had never had face-to-face contact with them, but he had seen them many times as a child hiding in the dark. He could recognize them even though they were still wearing masks.
Harry stood beside Voldemort's throne at the meeting, facing his father. Harry only had to be responsible to his father. In the past five years, little Harry had never spoken to anyone else, and his world consisted only of his father, perhaps with Nagini added in. Harry was not used to contact with outsiders, so the grand scene of the Death Eater conference with so many people made him a little nervous. Harry tried not to show his nervousness and just stood beside the throne.
At this time, Harry heard his father solemnly announce to all the Death Eaters: "This is the Dark Prince, your other master. The Prince can use the Dark Mark, and the Death Eaters will obey his orders." His magically modified voice echoed throughout the hall, with an inviolable majesty.
Facing the crowded Death Eaters, who knelt down on one knee to pay homage, Harry tried to conceal his sense of loss. Harry sincerely hoped that they would not come over to kiss his robe. Fortunately, his father did not ask them to do so. Nagini came over at this time, still as cheerful as ever: "Don't be nervous, Harry, they are very well-behaved, and the disobedient ones are also delicious." Her huge body coiled around Harry.
Harry nodded to Nagini, but he heard his father continue speaking to him in Parseltongue, "Your status is above theirs, you are the one closest to me, what is there to be nervous about?"
"I understand, Father," Dark Prince respectfully replied, also using Parseltongue. In the castle, he always spoke in Parseltongue with his father and Nagini, even more than in English. He was more accustomed to speaking this way. Besides, before coming here, his father had told him that he could not expose his voice to outsiders and only use Parseltongue. Anyway, he only needed to follow the orders of the Dark Lord and be responsible to him alone.
However, this Parseltongue sentence made the Death Eaters tremble. Several core members exchanged glances, and there were some whispers within the group. They listened to the Parseltongue conversation between the Dark Lord and the Dark Prince, not understanding the content, but hearing the eerie hissing language. They always thought that only the Dark Lord could speak Parseltongue, but now it turned out that the Dark Prince could too.
After the meeting, Harry and the others respectfully watched the Dark Lord leave. The only difference was that he didn't have to kneel.
"Dear Prince, please allow me to express my respect to you," a voice said behind him. Someone wanted to get close to him.
Harry didn't turn around or pay attention, and just left straightaway. Not to mention that his father didn't allow him to interact with these people, he didn't know how to talk to strangers, and he also didn't like the Death Eaters.
The nearby Death Eaters could only watch the Dark Prince's cold back.
In the following period of time, the Death Eaters had various opinions and attitudes towards the Dark Prince. Some people speculated in fear whether the other master was also capricious and difficult to serve. Others harbored malicious intentions - why did he suddenly become the master of all Death Eaters?
"That man has never participated in the activities of the Death Eaters, nor has he ever accomplished anything. Why him?" Mcnair grumbled indignantly.
"Well, he doesn't look formidable. Maybe he slept his way to the top?" Dolohov sneered, squinting his small eyes.
Dark Prince is also the owner of the Dark Mark and has the authority to directly give orders to those marked by it. However, what Harry needs to do is always a secret of the Dark Lord, and it's not easy to rely on others. He mostly completes the tasks by himself. Harry is also reluctant to order Death Eaters to attack or kill, so he has never used this authority to give commands.
What Harry uses more often is the Dark Mark as a channel for collecting death energy, which is transmitted to him. The attacks by Death Eaters never stop, and they will attack Muggles. The energy released by the victims at the moment of death, which can be utilized in magical rituals, is collected by the Dark Mark in the sky. And all the collected energy will be transmitted to the owner of the mark for future use.
"Morsmordre." Harry conjured a very small Dark Mark floating in front of him. He then raised his wand, guiding the energy to transform into a blue-white smoke, flowing out of the mark and into a magic circle in front of him. Harry knew that this blue-white light was the energy released by a person's death. The last moments of the deceased must have been very painful... they could have lived. Harry couldn't help feeling sad for the unknown sacrifice, but now he had no time for emotions. He had to carefully record the changes in the magic circle. As his father's research assistant, he had become more and more capable of working independently, and this was his daily job. He needed to finish the experiment quickly and report the results to his father.
"Avada Kedavra." Harry had learned to chant this curse without any emotional fluctuations in his voice. He had learned to control his emotions and bury his pain and reluctance deep down so that his father wouldn't see his weakness and incompetence.
A green light swallowed the living life before his eyes. The living person would never move, speak, or laugh again. Harry tried hard to act normally.
At least... at least... he didn't die in pain. Maybe he was tortured to death if he had been caught by Death Eaters... Little Harry tried to persuade himself.
In the small meeting room, Lucius Malfoy and several other Death Eaters admitted their failure with fear. They were unable to complete the task assigned by the Dark Lord. "That man, he's incredibly powerful... He's too powerful. Our entire team of Death Eaters couldn't even land a single hit on him," Malfoy's trembling voice came from under his mask.
"What a useless bunch," the Dark Lord sneered, then muttered a spell and a white ball of light appeared in front of him. He spoke to the ball of light in Parseltongue. Malfoy guessed that the Dark Prince himself was being summoned to do the job.
Sure enough, someone respectfully knocked on the reception room door a little later, and the door opened automatically. It was indeed the Dark Prince, summoned by the Dark Lord... Malfoy thought to himself.
Then the Prince came in, respectfully bowing to the Dark Lord, carrying the target's body. Malfoy looked at the corpse, his gray eyes widening in disbelief. What? I just saw him take on the task, but he's already back with the completed task? In just one or two minutes? How could he be so fast? That target was super powerful, so how powerful the Prince was?
No one could answer this question, not even the most core members, Bellatrix and Crouch, who were known as the Dark Lord's right-hand men. Only more rumors spread among the Death Eaters, and they only knew that the Prince's power was unfathomable. Gradually, no one dared to disrespect this mysterious figure.
"If you betray, you should get what you deserve," Father said in a tone that was not often heard.
This time, he asked Harry to take care of a traitor. The traitor was a werewolf who was undercover in the Death Eater's werewolf team but was actually a member of the Order of Phoenix.
Harry was only eleven that year, and he obediently accepted his father's orders. He used his invisibility cloak to find the werewolf's home. The werewolf lived alone in a simple room, many facilities were old but cleaned spotlessly. The warmest and most prominent place on the fireplace was a photo of him and his friends. Young Harry did not pay attention to the details of the environment. He only knew that he was here to use the Avada Kedavra curse to dispose of the target. This was Father's order, and he had to do it well. Father had said to do it more, and he would get used to it, but Harry still had not met Father's standards. This must be Harry's fault.
Remus Lupin recognized the identity of the intruder from the silver engraved mask on his face. It was the legendary Dark Prince. But why was it a child's figure? There was speculation that the Prince had drunk an age-adjusting potion at the Death Eater's meeting, and no one knew his true age. But looking at the child, he was at most eleven years old, even younger.
"How old are you, child? How could Voldemort let such a young child go to battle?" Remus asked. A child who had not even started school had already learned how to kill. Voldemort was really too much.
The child did not answer but raised his wand towards him.
No one had ever thought that an eleven-year-old child and the Dark Prince could be written in the same sentence. But now when they were related in Remus's mind, he suddenly understood something. As James's closest friend, he had always known about the prophecy.
Could it be...could it be...Harry was still alive? Could it be...
Remus looked into the child's eyes. The mask covered most of his face, but not his bright green eyes. Lily's eyes.
Remus trembled all over and couldn't speak. His heart was overwhelmed by too many complex emotions. He opened his mouth, his throat hoarse, and he couldn't even say Harry's name.
A dazzling green light came straight towards him, illuminating those bright green eyes even more. Remus's last thought was that he wanted to tell Harry that everyone had always loved him. He also wanted to tell James that he didn't blame Harry, Voldemort was the real culprit.
Sadly, no one would ever know these thoughts.
Eleven-year-old Harry tried his best to complete his father's task. Although he didn't like these tasks, he would still do his best to complete them. He would be a good obedient child, he always was. He would make his father satisfied.
The giant Dark Mark hovered over the crime scene, and when the friends of the Order of the Phoenix arrived, the culprit had long gone.