Prologue - The Fire of Fate
"There's nothing we fear more than our own reflection. We scream at the monsters within us, hidden deep within our hearts. We run and hide from all the terrors all around us - the different mirrors we see." - Solange Nicole
Fate, a wild destructive card. Whatever one may do, it would always be corrected and sent on the path that has been fixed by fate.
Death. A strong stench of death permeated the air of The Black Forest in Germany. Trees were burnt down, craters were dug in the ground and flames brought light into covet created by the dark sky that hung above the forest. The contrast created by the dark cover of the night sky and the bright yellow flames created by death was an eerie representation of the yin and yang, chaos and life forces - interconnected at the core yet being different despite being the same.
One being a symbol for constant chaos and one transforming the chaos into an active live force.
Wails of crying soldiers and echoes of the dead rang across the entire area and right into the ears of the Grey Knight as he pushed his blade into the neck of one of Riddle's followers and watched him choke on his own blood as he crumpled down on the floor, he thought to himself, "What the fuck am I doing? I seriously shouldn't have done this."
The "Other" in his mind spoke back, "You only did what was necessary, Harry. You possibly didn't believe that you could stop him by being on the defence all the time, hmm?"
He replied, "Yeah, you're right, Andrei, I was frustrated seeing absolutely zero progress on the war – heck, Dumbledore got killed and all I could do was helplessly watch. It was my inaction that got Ron killed – I could do nothing except watch as they died. Hell, even Vandagor died right after Dumbledore and I couldn't save him. I could do nothing, absolutely nothing."
Andrei replied, "See? You only did what you had to do, you did the right thing, Harry. Now go on, give them what they rightfully deserve."
As if on autopilot, he just kept slashing, swinging, bringing down trees and firing curses at the horde of followers that was coming for him. Brilliant beams of light left his wand as soldier after soldier crumbled to the ground, dead. Some folded inwards and exploded - leading into a shower of guts and gore or some just simply died.
Blade and wand, both simultaneously slashed and blasted through the army of Knights that were keen on taking his head - both of the weapons being majestically waved through the horde as if they were singing a symphony that only sang of death.
The blade broke into hundreds of tiny plates and transformed into a whip, taking on a larger section of the offending Knights while Harry's wand kept on casting automatically and kept shredding down legions of them.
A battalion of soldiers summoned hundreds of trees and sent them all towards and as they were coming at him within nanoseconds of the other, Harry flicked his wand and redirected the tree-trunks towards the Knights - who all became a gorey messy red puddle.
Another batch of Knights with a tall golem leading them erected a massive wall of flame and molten rock, sending the wall towards Harry, showering him with a rain of hot boiling igneous rock.
One of them tagged Harry's leg, who yelled out in pain but he quickly healed himself but as soon as he looked up again, he got a big piece of molten rock directly onto the mask he was wearing - shattering the mask into two.
Angered and having fresh burns on his face - part of which looked red and mottled, Harry ran – sword and wand in hand – and jumped into the massive wall of flame.
He came out of the other side like a demon from hell, jumped into the air, transfigured the flame into bolts of lightning and redirected the rocks towards the knights - vapourising their heads on impact while a few survived because they were fast enough to erect a shield.
One of the soldiers jumped up and was bringing down a black flame upon Harry but before the soldier could do anything, a spiked whip grasped him around the neck - piercing it and then letting go, making blood splatter all around and chunks of the neck flying off into the masks of the other Knights - making them stumble.
"They took away everything you knew. They are the cause of your misery."
Harry punched into the chest of an offending soldier, eliciting ear-splitting cries from said enemy.
"They took away your old life."
Harry twisted his first around, going for the heart of said soldier, adamant on giving him a painful death.
"They took away the life you could've had."
Harry ripped away the sternum and closed his fist onto the slimy and wet - and still pumping heart of the man, bloodlust prevalent in his dark-green eyes.
"Avenge your fallen."
He ripped out his heart with a roar he didn't know he could make and watched the light slip away from the soldier's eyes - reminiscent of a dying fire. Once loud, proud, vibrant, and powerful - now reduced to a mere spectre of what it once was.
"Slaughter them all."
A blast of white-hot electricity surged through Harry, instantly vaporising all soldiers and every piece of vegetation within his vicinity - letting their echoes linger onto the earthly plain as fine particles remain where once a warrior was, resulting in the bloodlust magnifying in Harry's ears.
The shockwave that was emitted from the blast was sent miles away, vaporising all essence of life that dared to stand in its path - which only screamed and reeked of death. Nothing that met the other end of Harry's warpath would see the light of the day, not anymore.
Once he might've been a scared and naïve little boy, letting the enemy escape because it was against his morals to kill - but not anymore.
Not since he had killed Bellatrix Lestrange in the Ministry's atrium back in his fifth year - nor when he had acted on his bloodlust against his enemies - not when he murdered the people he thought were guilty, no.
Nothing escaped his warpath. Nothing.
He calmly walked forward, stepping over a mutilated corpse, waving his hand over broken plates of his armour - fixing them.
He brandished his sword and wand, readying for the oncoming sight of the horde that was also referred as, "The Knights of Tartarus."
War cries emerged from the throats of the rushing battalion, intent on removing Harry's head from his shoulders. Wands were raised and various beams of light emerged from the ends of their wands - some were red, others were black or purple, but the majority of them were an emerald green colour - a spell Harry was intimately familiar with.
Blood dripping from Harry's face, he calmly began walking towards the barrage of spells, utterly fearless of what may happen - all while sporting a bloodthirsty grin. Three words rang out in his mind, three words which were said by Andrei - followed by one of the most brutal slaughters of the second wizarding war.
"Kill them all."
Ever since he had been a child, - whilst being stuffed in the dingy old cupboard under the stairs -, Harry always hated the darkness. Well, he didn't precisely hate the concept of darkness, no. He just hated what lived in it - and that's why he utterly hated the situation he was in right now.
Darkness, as far as the eye could see; all Harry saw was darkness. Utter cold darkness which covered every inch of the surrounding world. Peering into the vast void, it began to give him a sense of familiarity, a sense of belonging - and he knew it.
"To fight the darkness, one must adapt to its techniques to win."
Harry spun around towards the source of the voice, it was one he hadn't heard in a millenia. A voice that always provided him a sense of reasoning. A voice that always provided him a sense of direction, and safety. Such a voice which radiated warmth, comfort, wisdom, and hope could only belong to one person.
Albus Dumbledore.
"Hello there, Harry, it's been a long time."
No. He died, he had died right in front of him and he couldn't do anything about it. No, this isn't real, no. He had died in front of him.
But then again, there he was, in his vibrant purple robes which were dotted with moving pumpkin pasties, half-moon glasses resting upon his crooked nose, with a wry smile and that same old twinkle in his eyes that he always carried.
"Professor? Wh- what are you doing here? Heck, what am I doing here? Even before you answer that, where is here?"
With a small smile, the old wizard replied, "This right here is wherever you want to be. Whatever you deem this place to be, is what it will be. Why don't you take a seat?"
Before Harry could say, "Quidditch", a soft armchair appeared beneath him and the scene around him automatically changed to that of Dumbledore's old office.
Seeing the old tomes, clinkering devices, and the faint moonlight streaming through the window, it was as if Harry had travelled back through time. He looked at Dumbledore and saw Fawkes perched upon his shoulder, giving what could only be described a smile by a phoenix.
Harry looked around and witnessed the fireplace burst alive, filling the room with a soft and flickering amber light. The aura of the old tomes filled and lit him with an odd sense of nostalgia as he longed for the times when the darkness of the war hadn't struck and all was peaceful, for the time being at least.
The room had a sense of familiarity, nostalgia and mystique to it. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and just simply absorbed the essence of the room, and opened his eyes again.
"So, what brings you here, Harry?"
Harry looked down at the table and saw a bowl of lemon drops appear out of thin air. He popped one in his mouth and began to reply.
"Sir-"
"Call me Albus, please. You aren't my student anymore, Harry. We are friends, or as it once was, allies in the war effort."
"Okay fine - Albus, these days, I am not particularly sure what I am doing is right. What if those sacrifices that I had to make were all for nothing? What if despite what I do, he wins? What if-"
Before he could continue on, Albus raised a hand to silence him and Harry immediately fell shut.
"You did what you had to do, Harry. You did what I never had the courage to do. I was never a warrior - only a teacher at heart. I don't hold it against you that you lashed out and did what should've been done long ago."
Harry watched on as Dumbledore spoke.
"What you intended and willed to do was admirable, but your presentation left much to be desired. Putting that aside for the moment, as brought up by you, you question whether your sacrifices would be in vain, correct? The ones who have sacrificed themselves for you have always been and always be proud of you. I know I am, dear boy, to watch you grow and persevere through the horrors life has brought upon you."
Licking his lips, Harry continued, "You see, sir, there is this particular uncertainty I have of whether what I am doing is right or wrong, should I really be going on this massive warpath I am on? Whenever I ask myself that - the answer always comes up as no but whenever I do or I- I think that there's this bloody voice in the back of my head saying that 'No, they deserve it. What I'm doing is absolutely right, every single one of them deserves this and that I should kill them all.'"
Harry took a breath and before he could continue, Dumbledore asked, "What do you believe in, Harry?"
Harry wrinkled his brows in confusion and with uncertainty laced in his voice, he said, "Uhm sir, what exactly do you mean by that?"
Pushing his glasses a bit further up the bridge of his nose, Dumbledore elaborated, "What do you genuinely believe in, Harry? Do you think what you're doing is absolutely correct or is it the easy path? I personally would say what you're doing is justified, the Knights aren't worthy of a second chance - not after the atrocities they have committed. You are in the right for this."
Nodding in response, Harry replied, "Oh, okay, I have something of concern to talk about."
Seeing the need to keep talking, Harry continued, "I am not really sure I should be dabbling this deep into the Art of Typhon and communicating with his fallen spirit all too much, but whatever I pick from the lightside just doesn't seem to aptly connect to me anymore - it just doesn't."
Leaning forward with keen interest, Dumbledore summoned a glass of water and after taking a sip from it, he spoke, "Go ahead. I'm listening."
Harry continued.
"You remember the Arts of the Resistance, right? Well, they don't seem to apply to me anymore - they don't come as naturally as they used to when I was still a Hogwarts student. Now there's just something in me which feels connected to the dark - what's happening to me?"
Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore stood up and placed his hands behind his back and began pacing the room.
Reaching his hand out into thin air, a bowl of lemon drops appeared right into his hand and he took one of them and popped it into his mouth - afterwards he offered the bowl to Harry who politely declined.
While sucking on his lemon drop, Dumbledore said, "What's happening to you - is what would many who have the outsiders point of view onto this scenario that has befallen onto your shoulders see as you becoming the very thing you swore to destroy, however, I, do not think so."
This really caught Harry's attention as he asked, "Then what do you think, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore stopped and turned to look Harry right in the eyes and said, "This is what I would say is taking the necessary steps to destroy the greater threat."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"You yourself saw what fighting Echidna with the Arts of the Aether and the Sun God did. In the Ministry back in your fifth year, it only slowed the Knights down, it didn't kill them."
Harry furrowed his brows and kept his attention at Dumbledore.
"You see, Harry, we don't understand the unknown. We were always afraid of it - afraid of the unknown, as the natural mind of man is. It's something that's built within us, but, alas, during the first war against Tom, we only could harness the power of Aether and the Sun God, to fight against the powers of Echidna which put us on the defensive - it put us on the defensive for years."
Harry watched on with apprehension and motioned Dumbledore to go on.
"I was sure we were going to lose the war - until the fateful night happened and we won."
Sucking on his lemon drop, he said, "Now, Harry, I would advise you to do what I could not do. You need to fight fire with fire, Lean into the Art of Typhon, learn it, be with it, but don't forget who you are. Lean into the Arts, Harry. Lean into them. Adopt them, become one with them - to fight against the darkness."
Clinging onto every word, Harry asked, "What shall I do after that?"
Dumbledore leaned in and whispered one word in a language he had no idea of.
"Verwandelter."*
At that word, the eyes of the wizened old headmaster went all black. Blacker than the darkest of nights, the colour which Harry only associated with the Knights of Typhon, began spreading outwards, covering the entirety of Dumbledore's face.
Wrinkles of age, magic, and light were slowly being overtaken by the sudden darkness that came forth in Dumbledore's eyes. The darkness began to spread, burning away at Dumbledore's skin while he just stood there, watching Harry and not saying a word. He stood as still as a statue, unblinking as the darkness licked away at Dumbledore's face, as it turned from the ever-twinkling white he knew to a more sinister void.
Slowly, the black element which had entered his eyes went outward and formed into blackfire, burning away at Dumbledore's body.
The fire began spreading to his beard, limbs and the rest of his body, burning away at him yet he stood there, unaffected.
"You could have saved me, Harry. You could have saved me now, you could have saved me back in the Astronomy tower, my boy."
The seating was gone and Harry felt right onto the ground, getting up and moving away from Dumbledore in sheer terror.
"You could have saved countless many more lives, Harry. Countless many more lives."
Then to his right, with a big pop sound which Harry knew was the sound of apparition, came forth the burnt and decayed corpse of one Ronald Weasley.
"If it hadn't been for you blindly running to save Remus Lupin, perhaps Ron would still be alive."
—--
Dread, an unmistakable stench of dread filled the air as the rain began to fall harder onto the muddy ground, making movement and combat all the more difficult. As anxiety and fear began to gnaw upon his insides, he shook them with the sheer thought of clearing out the next camp he and his battalion were flying to - Warsaw, Poland.
The Knights of Tartarus and their lord - the "Champion of Tartarus", had captured the entirety of Europe and were beginning to extend their grasp to other parts of the world - Russia being one of them. To infiltrate into Russian land, the Knights had annexed Poland and the surrounding countries to make sure that there was a 100% certainty that the infiltration would go just as planned.
However, they were met with formidable resistance from all parts of the world - preventing them from entering into Russian soil.
Brooms ripping through the air as they were flying over to Warsaw - the main camp of the Knights,- Harry's mind could only flashback to events that happened only a few nights ago but for him, it felt like an eternity ago.
Memories of waking up in cold sweat in the dead of night all while seeing the very same nightmare - the re-animated corpse of one Ronald Weasley staggering on towards him with Dumbledore's voice surrounding his very being, saying, "If it hadn't been for your foolishness, perhaps your best friend would still be alive."
Flashback
The warm and cosy room of the Headmaster's office seemed to be swept away from his feet, no longer present was the warm office, but a broken down and war-ridden Hogwarts was present. The stench of despair, misery, sorrow, and death filling the air, Harry didn't even need to properly assess where he was, this day was very clearly etched into his brain.
His throat choking up and lips trembling, Harry looked around in hopes to see the only family he ever had again, but he was only met with disappointment.
All he ever saw were the cold corpses of the family he once had.
Ron, Ginny, Charlie, Remus, Ted Tonks, Nymphadora…
By now, tears were spilling through the corners of his eyes as he walked through the battle-ridden grounds of his once-beloved school. What once was a mighty, proud, and tall castle was now in ruins, with corpses of the Knights and the Resistance strewn alike, all slaughtered the same.
He passed by the corpse of Remus Lupin only to be met with an unseeing state that was watching something Harry couldn't discern, but he very much knew what it was.
The thousand yard stare that emanated from the scarred young face of Remus only reminded Harry of one thing, that how much he had lost. How much he had lost to be where he was now, leading battalions into a war that was very much spread all over the world.
As he kept on staring at the corpse of his closest link to his parents, in front of his very eyes, his face began to rot.
The once-scarred skin began to darken in colour and droop, as it began to loosen off of the face of the Marauder. Blood began dripping from his eyes as the thousand yard stare was directly focused on him.
Before Harry knew, the re-animated corpse of Remus Lupin grabbed Harry by the throat and pulled him closer. Gasping for breath, the corpse of the Marauder spoke something which would forever be seared into the depths of his mind, never to be removed.
"Y- You could've saved us."
With that, the skin off of his face began to sag away as blood began dripping from various pores of his skin, through his nose, eyes and eventually, his ears. Harry softly tried to touch the face of his old Professor but to his horror, the remaining skin that was left came off.
All that met his eyes were just a shallow shell of his former Professor. Right now, all that Harry saw was a red mass of muscles that resembled the shape of a human head. Blood pooling all over, the eyes of his former Professor began to lose all colour and transform into an eerie shade of black within which Harry could see nothing but his own reflection. The darkest of nights failed to match up against the hollowness that the eyes of his former Professor displayed.
As he kept on staring into those dark pits fearfully, he began noticing foreign movement within those eyes. No - the eyes themselves were not moving, no.
Spiders, there were spiders in his eyes that were crawling out one after the other.
Harry could do nothing but witness as he saw spiders crawling out of the mouth of his old Professor - with his eyes that gave the thousand yard stare focused solely at him with a disappointed expression.
"Y- You could've saved us, Harry. You could've saved us."
And at that, Harry felt a very distinct rumble beneath his feet which was enough to buckle his knees onto the ground.
He got up - shaking off the hand of his dead Professor and looked around.
The corpses of his family - the ones he counted as his family, began to rise. One after the other, limbs rejoining, severed heads that had blown off were coming back together - re-animating the gore that had originally spewed and mangled torsos were hastily joined back together.
Harry looked around and expected to see standing rotting bodies of his family - but they were gone. All of them were gone.
Taking a few tentative steps while gathering his courage, Harry walked around the damaged courtyard. Flames were flickering atop the littered debris, a familiar stench of death was spread all over the air and it was so potent that it was as if Harry could taste it.
The fountain that usually was in the centre, big and proud, was gone. Nothing stood there but debris - a mere reminder of what once was standing.
The archway towards the path to Hogsmeade was absolutely obliterated - for a few metres, it was just like how it used to be but from there on out, the entirety of it was gone. Reduced to atoms.
His home was gone, and he failed to save it.
He wandered around the remains of what once he called his true home - nothing resembled what he knew at all. The gates to the castle were abolished, the walls were in smithereens, flames were spreading everywhere, the quidditch stadium was in ruins.
He didn't even want to move on and see the state of Hagrid's hut as he knew that it was most probably destroyed as well. Everything he knew was blown up into smithereens. Everything.
"You could've saved us, Harry."
He turned around.
"Who was that?"
Nothing, he saw nobody and got no response.
"You could've saved us, Harry."
He whipped around again towards the source of voice - nothing. Nobody was there.
Voices began surrounding him, constantly repeating the very same thing while he could see nothing but the sight of the destroyed and burned down Hogwarts - he constantly looked around to see the source of the voices but he could find nothing as the chant grew louder and louder.
"You could've saved us, Harry. You could've saved us, Harry."
Backed up into a corner, Harry shuts his eyes and as he begins hearing groans and scratching of nails - bracing for physical impact. Bracing for his body to be torn into shreds as the undead rip it apart.
Any second now.
Any second.
Utter silence.
Nothing.
He opened his eyes and found himself to be on a broom, flying straight first into dense and thick foliage.
As Harry hurtled towards the dense foliage, his broomstick careening out of control, he knew he had only one choice. With a desperate leap, he launched himself off the broom, somersaulting through the air before crashing into the underbrush with a roll.
Breathless and dizzy, Harry staggered to his feet just as the Knights emerged from the shadows. Clad in gleaming armor and armed with swords, wands and a plethora of weaponry, they surrounded him with cautious determination.
"You're surrounded, Potter," one of the Knights declared, his voice echoing through the quiet clearing.
Harry's hand moved instinctively to his side, gripping the hilt of his sword. With a swift motion, he drew it from its sheath, the blade shimmering with an eerie black light that seemed to pulse with power and his wand in his other hand, poised for attack.
"Yes, by dead men," Harry responded coolly as Andrei's voice rang out in his head, repeating the very same words.
-Prologue fin-
AN: Hey guys, its been so long since I've uploaded anything cuz of life so thought why not make a new fic. Im in my senior year of HS now lmao, ive had this dark Harry or well ... an anti-hero Harry fic idea for ages. Hope y'all like it!