Instead of a preview chapter from a story yet to come, I thought I'd throw in the one completed chapter of a story I grew bored with before I truly began it. On the Side of Angels was partially inspired by The Best Revenge, a Severitus fic. I had an inspiration for a good Voldemort story that would become a substantial AU of the Potterverse, where Voldemort was a dark but ultimately altruistic person, and the Dark Lord of this AU was Barty Crouch Junior, as a Muggle and Muggleborn-recruiting Dark Lord called Zagreus. Unfortunately, my motivation petered out, and I have no desire to go back to it. It was one of my first fanfics I tried writing, and frankly, I'm a little embarrassed by it.

The title comes from a quote from Sherlock: The Reichenbach Fall, where Sherlock tells Moriarty that, while Sherlock is on the side of angels, he's not an angel himself.

ON THE SIDE OF ANGELS

PROLOGUE:

AFTERMATH

The house was unremarkable, or at least it had been. An old cottage, empty for so long, and empty once more. Of life, at least. Part of the roof had collapsed into a room on the second floor. Smoke wafted from the rent.

At the gate to the house stood a man, tall and thin. His face was handsome, in a rather severe and cold way, enhanced by his icy blue eyes. His age was indeterminate. He was dressed, as was his wont, in a black robe. And in his hand was a slender wand of wood.

His eye roved the house with a keen and cold eye. He noted the motorcycle near the front, enchanted, but the owner was nowhere to be seen.

He walked through the gate, and into the house proper. His analytical eye took in the signs of the battle that had occurred. It wasn't long before he found the first corpse. A woman, thin-faced and with an expression somewhere between a sneer and a rictus of pain. On her arm, half-exposed by her sleeve, was a dark shadow of a wand with a pine cone on it. A Thyrsus.

A sneer came over the man's features, before he raised his hand. A large, ornate ring sat upon it. "Maenad spirit," he called in a cold, high voice, but filled with authority. "Rise.(1)"

Mist seemed to waft around the corpse, before forming into the shape of the woman currently sprawled on the floor. The apparition noticed him, and then sneered herself. "Another freak?" she demanded waspishly.

The sneer on the man's face became ever more pronounced. "I do not answer questions, spirit. I ask them. Who are you? And why do you have the brand of the Maenads on you?"

The spirit convulsed under the compulsion, before she said, "Petunia Dursley, nee Evans. I took Lord Zagreus' Mark because he promised me what was rightfully mine! But that bitch sister, Lily, stole it from me…"

The man's eyes widened in comprehension. "Lily! So…you are sisters. A muggleborn witch…and her muggle sister." Then, the eyes, the cold, cold eyes narrowed in…something that wasn't quite hatred or anger, but a displeasure of an acute kind. "Tell me, foolish Maenad, who did you kill?"

Proudly, the ghost said, "That wizard bastard she married, Potter. But…" Her face fell. "Something happened to the magic he gave me. It burned away…and so too…did my life. But I wanted to kill her…that bitch who stole what was rightfully mine, and…"

A cry from upstairs. A distinctive cry. The man's eyes widened in shock. With a hasty wave of his beringed hand, the ghost was banished to wherever the spirits of the dead went to. Had he arrived in time?

He burst through the nursery door, expecting to find two, perhaps three bodies. One of them still alive. The air still stank of the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, that green bolt of death that blasted the soul from the body. So, Zagreus(2) had been there. But…where was he?

There was Lily Potter, nee Evans, lying dead on the floor. And amongst the shattered ruins of the crib was a baby boy, wailing in pain.

The man walked over, and carefully looked at the squalling infant. He detested children, but this child had just lost his parents. And the man knew why. Why, except for why the child was still alive.

When he saw the forehead of the child, he got an answer, of sorts. Raw and red, there was a distinctive jagged pattern, like a lightning bolt, etched into the forehead of the child.

On an impulse, he waved his beringed hand at the corpse of Lily Potter. "Lily Potter," he spoke once more. "Rise."

Once more, mist rose from the corpse, forming into the shape of a young woman, staring around her. "Oh God, is he all right? Please, tell me, is Harry all right?" she demanded.

"Calm yourself, Mrs Potter," the man said quietly. "Your son is alive. Though I don't know how. Your sister is downstairs. She became a Maenad, one of Zagreus' muggle minions. She's dead, along with your husband."

Lily Potter looked distressed. "But…Petunia wouldn't do that! She was always envious of my magic, sure, but…this…"

"The Dark Lord Zagreus has many tools at his disposal. Petunia would have jumped at the chance to use magic, and in any case, Zagreus loves to amplify what is already there," the man remarked. "So much easier and more subtle than an Imperius Curse. Your husband is dead."

Lily nodded sadly. "I…I heard him die. And then, I heard Petunia scream. And then…he came. Zagreus. I begged him to spare my son, but…I threw myself in front of his Killing Curse when he attacked Harry."

"Did you see what happened next?"

"Barely. I was…between this world and the one beyond. And…he fired the Killing Curse at Harry, and then…I don't know."

The man looked back at the baby Harry Potter, before returning his gaze to the shade of Lily Potter. "Thank you for the information anyway. I will make sure that your boy is looked after."

Lily nodded. "But…before you dismiss me…who are you?"

The man looked pensive, before he said, "I was born Thomas Marvolo Riddle. But I rejected that name long ago. My name is Voldemort."

Shock and concern washed over the face of Lily Potter's spirit. "You're Voldemort? The Cold-Hearted Seeker? The Necromancer? Dumbledore's Dark Detective? You?"

"My reputation precedes me," Voldemort said, with a small amount of pride, albeit bittersweet pride. "Did you really think I had a snake's face?" he asked, rather lightly given the circumstances.

"No…I just thought…there were all sorts of rumours about whether you had taken Zagreus' side. Like…Severus."

"Both Snape and myself take no sides bar our own," Voldemort stated. This breach of confidence was fine with Voldemort. He was, after all, speaking to a dead woman, who would keep the secret long after he left. "He really did love you, you know. And he regretted that day he called you mudblood."

Regret flashed in Lily's eyes. "Maybe. But it's moot now. Where will Harry go?"

"I don't know. I'm sure Dumbledore had places and people in mind." He reached down, and picked the child up gently. The child bawled all the harder, and Voldemort winced. "He'll be famous, you know. The infant child who survived a Killing Curse, and one cast by Zagreus himself."

"I don't want him to be famous. I just want him to live his life," Lily said quietly.

Voldemort nodded. "Yes. We can but hope. Do you have any last words to say to your child?"

She nodded. And spoke a single word. "Live."

With a rueful look to his face, Voldemort waved his beringed hand, dismissing the shade of Lily Potter. Good last word to one's child, he thought to himself.

A noise from behind, and he wheeled, to find a large black dog in the doorway. Ah, yes, of course. The motorcycle. Out loud, he said, "I'm not the only one coming here. If you dare try anything…"

The dog seemed to snuffle a few laughs, before shifting shape into a young man, dark hair framing his intense features. "If I really was a minion of Zagreus', Voldemort, you'd be dead."

"And where were you, Sirius Black, when this occurred?" Voldemort asked archly.

The young man's face fell. "I got here as soon as I could. But I was too late. I got here just before you did. Prongs…James is dead, and so's Lily and her bitch sister. As for Zagreus…"

"Yes," Voldemort remarked, looking around the ruined room. "Tell me, Sirius, have you ever heard of a Killing Curse disintegrating their victim?"

Black shook his head. "I was listening to you speaking to Lily and her sister. Never heard of Avada Kedavra rebounding either."

"And yet, Harry survived," Voldemort mused. He then looked up sharply when another realisation hit him. "Wait! Weren't you supposed to be their Secret Keeper? How the hell did Zagreus find them?"

Sirius held up his hands. "I'm not their Secret Keeper. I switched at the last minute, thought that might…" His face fell. "Oh, shit. Oh, you ratty bastard!" And with that, he fled from the house.

Voldemort considered pursuing him, but at the moment, he had Harry to look after. And a mystery to unravel.

The roar of a motorcycle starting outside, and then, an argument, barely audible over the noise. Who else had come? There was only one other he had been told would be coming.

Voldemort left the nursery, carefully walking down the stairs, even as the sound of the motorcycle receded into the distance. One arm was at the ready, his wand clasped in hand, while the other cradled Harry Potter. If this newcomer wasn't the one he expected…

"Oi, Tom! Tom!"

Voldemort let out a breath he wasn't quite aware that he was holding. There was no mistaking that booming voice. "Hagrid," he called out, holstering his wand. "I have the boy. He's still alive."

"Oh, thank goodness!" As Voldemort reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw the entrance filled by the bulky form of Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Assistant Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts. Part giant, fully loyal to Dumbledore, and with a heart as big as his frame. And, frankly, a bit of a nitwit. He was good with taking care of magical creatures, but less so of anyone who might happen to encounter said creatures. He'd coo at a dragon, unconcerned that it might burn everything down around him. Not that he was malicious. Malice wasn't in the dictionary of Rubeus Hagrid. Unfortunately, forethought wasn't either. But he was a gentle soul.

The two of them had known each other at school. Voldemort couldn't call Hagrid a friend, but he could easily call the man more than a mere acquaintance. A comrade perhaps. A man whom he would happily have at his back during a fight. It took a lot to get Hagrid roused to anger, and Voldemort had never seen it, nor did he wish to.

"What's that woman doing there?" Hagrid demanded, clearly confused.

"That, Hagrid, is the late, and frankly unlamented Petunia Dursley, nee Evans. Lily Potter's sister. It seems that Zagreus turned her into a Maenad."

The face of Hagrid, framed by bushy hair and a bushy beard, twisted into disgust and sorrow. "Oh, I remember that one. Begged Dumbledore to let her come to Hogwarts. That one were jealous of Lily and her magic." His face fell. "Lily? James?"

"Dead. Petunia used Avada Kedavra on James, but it killed her too, the sheer power of being Zagreus' little magic soldier burning her out." He snorted disdainfully. "Could have just bought a rifle and used it. Same thing in the end. We should be grateful neither she nor Zagreus thought of that."

"But where is he?" Hagrid said. He had winced when Voldemort used the name Zagreus so openly. "Where is You-Know-Who?"

"Dead. Or at least disembodied," Voldemort remarked, scratching his chin thoughtfully, handing the boy over to Hagrid. The giant was a gentle soul, and would treat the young Harry very carefully. Hagrid certainly loved babies, no matter what their species. "From what I can gather, he attempted to use the Killing Curse on Harry, only for it to somehow rebound. Harry has that scar, while Zagreus…well, his body's gone."

"Ah, well, he weren't human enough to die," Hagrid all but spat, glowering. A thought occurred to the man. "Damn! Dumbledore wanted me to take him to his aunt and uncle. But…with his aunt here…"

"Indeed," Voldemort remarked, though he wondered why. They were the boy's nearest blood relations, true. And, with a flash of insight, Voldemort considered it quite cunning, too. Dumbledore had clearly anticipated such an event. Then again, there was that damnable prophecy. In any case, the boy would become famous. Living among muggles might mitigate that, prevent the boy from being crushed by the weight of celebrity, or his ego inflated to ridiculous proportions.

"I must send an owl," Voldemort said, pulling a pen and paper from his robes. He had to confess, muggle technology was convenient. A biro was certainly better than a quill when it came to messages that couldn't be done automatically.

Walking through into the kitchen, he saw the corpse of James Potter, sprawled like a ragdoll, his eyes wide in terminal surprise. Potter had always thought he was going to live forever. Fool. But he was a brave fool. A Gryffindor to the end.

Voldemort scratched out a quick message, not bothering with niceties of grammar.

At Godric's Hollow. James and Lily dead. Zagreus gone. Petunia Dursley present and dead too, with Thrysus on arm. Harry still alive. Scarred by curse. Original plan for them potentially invalid. Sirius Black was here too. Claimed to have not been Secret Keeper. Fled upon some realisation. Will give details later. Come to Godric's Hollow ASAP. Call Aurors.

Voldemort.

After addressing the envelope, he searched the house, and found what he was looking for: a cage with a rather miffed-looking owl within. The Potters must've kept the bird just in case. They couldn't use owl post while in hiding in case their hiding spot was discovered. But it would serve his purpose well now.

He attached the message to the now freed owl, and let it fly from the house, and into the sky. "What now?" Hagrid asked, rocking the baby in his massive arms.

"We wait. I don't envy the boy, though."

"He's gonna be famous!" Hagrid protested.

Voldemort snorted. "I don't know whether you pay much attention to muggle media, but fame has a tendency of eating up young lives and spitting them out(3). And I needn't remind you of what happened to Johnny and the Cauldrons. No, he shouldn't have to be famous. That'll destroy him."

Hagrid rumbled his understanding, and the two stood there, in the hall of the house, waiting for the authorities to arrive…

PROLOGUE ANNOTATIONS

1. A reference to the Black Lanterns from DC Comics. And to spell it out, yes, Voldemort is using the Resurrection Stone. It's part of the Gaunt Ring. I found it ironic that he uses a ring to revive (temporarily) the dead, something which, very loosely speaking, is what the Black Lanterns do.

2. Zagreus is a Greek deity often associated with Dionysus. Dionysus, amongst other things, is associated with ritual madness, and was known for his mood swings. His name was chosen by the dark wizard because he was also a death and rebirth god. I chose the name Zagreus because of a Doctor Who audio story called Zagreus, where the Doctor, due to a series of unfortunate events, was transformed into this creature, a boogyman from Time Lord myth, and became violent and insane. In fact, that is a very oblique clue as to who Zagreus really is…

3. I actually looked up former child actors on Wikipedia, but this part of the story (in canon, Voldemort was originally defeated about 1981, I think) was a little before the phenomenon became truly noted. The only pre-1980 example I could find (with an admittedly cursory search) was Judy Garland, and she didn't quite go the same way. For the sake of argument, assume that there have been cases not unlike, say, Gary Coleman or Drew Barrymore.