Alright, time for chapter two, got it up nice and quick for you guys, hope you enjoy.
Chaos Born: Destiny Undone
Chapter 2: Retaliation
Harry felt himself floating in darkness. The emptiness that had descended upon him when his assailants had cast their curse, was changing. Instead of nothingness, he found that the darkness had a weight to it. He felt as if he was suffocating, being crushed by this unending blackness that squeezed upon every part of his body.
He screamed, but no sound came out. It was as he screamed, that another noise caught his ears. There was nothing but silence, yet when Harry screamed, it was almost like he felt someone else screaming with him. Yet he heard neither voice, as he descended deeper and deeper into the blackness.
Suddenly, he felt a searing pain across his body. He screamed again, this time with noise.
The darkness began to blaze, every color imaginable filling his sight. He felt magic lick at his skin, as he was pulled in different directions. He felt his body be ripped at, clawed at, as some unseen force attempted to draw him in multiple directions.
He felt as if he'd be torn apart, his body ripped asunder.
It lasted no more than a moment when suddenly, and without warning, he felt something wash over him. A coldness, that seemed to halt the pulling sensation. Something even stronger than these unseen forces was holding him together, it's presence, it's will, seemingly halting the attack on his body.
He could detect the wills of many things around him. It was like he was sat before four great entities, each one a pure set of emotions, so clear and so concrete, that he could give them no shape or form. They were simply magic itself, colored by this emotion.
Around him, he felt a fifth entity, something protecting him, almost possessively. He could feel the unseen gazes of the four surrounding entities on him, studying him, analyzing him. Despite the purity of their emotions, he could feel something else that was shared between the four. Something that shined through even their colossal emotional weight that individually could drown Harry's mind if he granted them more than a moment of thought.
This feeling they shared, was a great respect, or perhaps it was fear, for that which held him in it's grasp.
That which held him, did so almost comfortingly, like a mother would hold their child. These entities around him were evil, their darkness unimaginable, and yet, each one held great respect for the fifth, of which he felt almost no emotion from, other than a desire to protect him, and shield him from harm.
Despite himself, he sank into the comfort of this being. It was cold, so cold it almost physically hurt, and yet, it was gentle, and loving. He wanted this comfort, needed it after all he'd been through. He felt an influx of magic pour around him, washing over him from all sides. Four distinct magics, that each held a tremendous power to it. He felt that without the fifth entity here to protect him, that just one of those magics could have crushed him like an insect.
Despite the power he felt, the foreign magics did not seem to want to attack. It was almost like the magic he felt was some form of communication, like they were talking with the fifth entity.
What was being discussed, Harry couldn't possibly fathom, all he could think about was escaping his pain, and finding comfort in this cold embrace, that was now starting to remind him of death.
Suddenly, he felt it, like a lance through his body. He felt four hands placed upon him. A hand of metal that was powerful, and commanding, a handle of bloated flesh, that was gentle and almost comforting, a hand of cold, bony fingers, that crackled with magic, and a small hand, almost feminine in touch, that caused his skin to tingle, and vibrate with a pleasant sensation.
The contact lasted less than a microsecond, yet in an instant, he felt the four entities reach into him, grabbing hold of power that had already been there. It took him only a moment to realize that they were grabbing onto the power of the four entities that had dissolved into him during the ritual. He felt that power change, as it was reformed within him. Something was done to this power by these four god-like entities, only to then allow it to meld back into him, being reabsorbed as it did.
It came quickly than, the four powers vanishing, leaving him alone with the fifth in a swirling vortex of magic, and color.
He remained in comfort within the unseen arms of this cold creature. He did not want to leave it. He felt safe. For the first time in his life, he felt truly safe.
Suddenly, he felt a gentleness touch his forehead. Almost like a kiss, placed upon his scar.
Through his scar he felt something rush forward. Something passed into his scar, and fused with an unseen power there. It then rushed deeper into Harry's body, lancing into his very soul.
In an instant, the full life of a man, flashed in Harry's eyes. It was so vivid and clear, yet it went by so quickly that Harry was left completely stunned.
He couldn't even register the sorrow he felt as the fifth entity released him from it's tender grasp. It was like nothing he'd ever felt. Nothing he'd ever experienced even came close to this level of insanity. He hadn't even realized it when reality had crashed around him once more.
The moment the real world manifested around him again, he felt his eyes open.
He suddenly sat up, a cloud of ash floating around him. He was still on the table. Everything was so clear to him. It was strange, his sight was the first thing he noticed.
One half of his vision was perfectly clear, as clear as human sight could be. The other half though, it was entirely devoid of color. He could make out no shades other than grays, blacks, and whites, yet through that eye, he saw things with an unmatched perfection. His right eye, the eye that the witch had replaced, was the one that saw only in black and white.
Everything was so clear, so pristine in it's clarity. It was like he could see the shadows of the room, yet they hid nothing from him. His eye pierced the darkness without a shred of difficulty. With his left eye, he could see as a human would. Darkness made things difficult, yet with his right, he could see everything perfectly.
Slowly, he lowered his legs to the floor, sitting on the edge of the table. He raised his hands to stare at them, and found himself taking in a breath at the sight.
His left arm, had been replaced by a scaled blue arm. It was humanoid in shape, with five fingers, ending in long claws. It was about the same size as his regular arm, yet it was a bit more muscular than what he remembered it being. Deep blue scales covered the back of the arm, while pale beige scales covered the inside. Larger scale-like plates appeared on the upper part of his arm and shoulder, almost like armor.
On the palm of his left hand, an image was scarred into the scaled flesh. A symbol of some sort. It looked almost like a triangle, and a V connected at the tips, with a line cut through them. The symbol had magic burning within it, and it felt hot to the touch. On his shoulder was another symbol which consisted of three circles each separated by an interconnected arrow. The scaled plate that the symbol was carved into was seemingly rotten, it showed incredible discoloration when compared to the stark blue of the other scales. On the forearm, was a third symbol which was a circle, connected to a smaller crescent with a larger crescent separating the two. This symbol was more finely inscribed than the rest, and touching it felt pleasant, almost pleasurable.
His right arm looked almost rotted. The skin was taught and blackened, and his fingers were almost bone like. Upon the palm was another symbol, this one looking like a sort of flame, that was twisted into a crescent. This symbol actively glowed blue, radiating magic. Upon the back of the hand, was a symbol that he didn't remember the witch carving, it was a triangle, with a circle inside of it, cut in half by a line.
As he stared at the right arm in horror, a blackened cloth began to bleed out of his skin. He watched with a mixture of fascination and fear as the cloth wrapped around the flesh of his arm, circling all the way up to where it was connected at his shoulder before stopping. It intertwined with his fingers, covering every part of his right arm in this night black cloth. It even covered the symbol on his palm, and the back of his hand, hiding them from view. Hanging from it, in medium length strips was several lengths of the cloth. Slowly… Harry reached out and touched one of the hanging strips.
Two things he immediately noticed. One was that he felt the brush of his left hand, as if the cloth itself was part of his body, and the other was that the cloth didn't feel like cloth, it felt like human skin.
Harry looked down at his chest, and saw the scars from where the witch had cut him open. He remembered the pain and quickly wrapped his arms around himself as he felt the memory of it burn through his senses.
He could still feel it, the way she had peeled his skin off, the way her hands worked inside of his body. It seemed she had done something with his chest too, as well as his neck.
The Symbol on his chest was the largest of the six. It covered most of his upper torso. It looked like a pair of circles, one inside of the other. The outermost circle had eight small lines crossing it, evenly spaced apart, and connecting the two circles were eight larger barbed arrows that pointed away from the center. Something about each and every one of these symbols that had been carved into his body, gave off a terrifying feeling. Each was different and gave off a different aura, yet they all terrified him.
He pulled into himself again, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. He jumped a bit as he felt something more wrap around him. It was like something large and leathery had encircled him, but he couldn't see it. The moment he noticed it, he felt the feeling retreat, leaving him confused, and uncertain. It was enough to snap him out of his memories though, and allow the feeling of pain to fade away.
Slowly, Harry stood. He was still naked, naked as the day he was born. He wished he had some clothes.
At the thought, he felt movement along his right arm. The cloth was growing once more, extending, and trailing over his body. He felt it climb over his head, and drape down over him. Within a moment or two, he was covered, head to foot in a pitch black, tattered cloth.
"Thanks?"Harry spoke aloud with confusion. It quickly dawned on him that he could feel through this cloth cloak. It was almost like a second skin. It allowed him to feel the air, almost taste it.
It took a moment, but he realized that there were people nearby. He heard laughter and celebration coming from another room, he could smell alcohol in the air, taste it on his tongue. It was powerful, but nowhere near powerful enough to cover the scents of this room, this torture chamber.
The scent of blood, and feces, and rot, assaulted his nose. Knowing that it all came from him, made him sick to his stomach. He felt himself gagging, as a sound began to fill his ears. A dark and twisted sound.
It was a cheer of malice and perversion from the other room.
At hearing that noise, a hellish feeling began to overtake him. An anger that could hardly be fathomed. Things in the room began to rattle as magic began billowing off of his body.
His rage was indescribable.
He began to walk in that direction as he felt a murderous intent wash over him.
He made it several feet when a house elf stepped into the room, and it's jaw dropped open.
Harry's eyes focused on the little creature. With his right eye, he could see the creature radiate with magic. It stared up at Harry with fear and began to back away from him.
He saw it raise it's fingers, to attempt to snap, something that Dobby would do to cast magic.
'NO!' Harry shouted internally, and he felt power blaze from his right eye. He could see the magic around the elf begin to fade, even as it snapped.
The sharp noise filled the air, but nothing happened.
The elf's eyes widened in panic and it snapped again, and then again. It then began to totter, as if growing fatigued. Before it could collapse the creature met his gaze.
'Die' Harry snarled as he advanced on the elf. He made it only a stride or two, before the elf's eyes widened in pure terror. Harry watched as the light faded from it's eyes, even as it's magic began to return, only to diminish once more.
The elf suddenly collapsed, dead. Harry stared down at it, confused.
It had met his gaze, and then died. How had that happened? Harry glanced around the room, until his eyes fell onto a window. Slowly, he crossed it, and leaned close to the glass. From beneath his hood, he could see his right eye blazing. It's glow was instantly familiar to him. It was like the eyes of a Basilisk.
He backed away in sudden panic as the image of the Basilisk flashed in his head. A small part of him rationalized that it was only his imagination, he didn't actually know what a basilisk's gaze looked like, as that was kinda the point. Looking one in the eye was lethal. But still… had that woman put a basilisk's eye in his head?
That was impossible…
Slowly… Harry looked down at his left arm. Covered in blue scales, and clawed, almost like a lizard. He then glanced at his right. The black cloth… the bony fingers… looked almost like a Dementor.
Slowly… Harry brought up his right arm and touched the glass. He watched as mist spread out across it, clouding the glass with a cold aura.
It didn't just look like a Dementor's arm… it was one.
What did she say? Before all this began, she had said something about what she was working on. She mentioned the word… 'Chimera'.
Harry blinked… once, then twice… then he let out a horrified chuckle as his mind reeled at the horrific implications.
"A body for the Dark Lord? That's what you were researching? You wanted to make him a body that was made of magical parts. That's what this was. You took parts of my body and replaced them! What was it you did at the end though? Those things, those… entities?"
Harry's thoughts were cut off as he once again heard a loud laugh from the other room.
He felt it in an instant… his rage boiled to the surface once more.
"Where are you, you fucking bitch!" Harry snarled as he stormed out of the make-shift lab across a hall and into a much larger room. There, he found nearly three dozen people, all celebrating, celebrating his death. Most of them were gathered around a raunchy site. A naked man was fucking a woman, while the others watched. A few of the men who watched had their trousers open, their cocks hanging out as they watched the show, eager for their turn.
The rutting duo was at the height of ecstasy both mewling in the throws of pleasure while the crowd cheered them on.
Harry's eyes scanned the room until they fell upon the old woman. She sat back on a chair sofa, watching the event play out with a cool, cruel smile. She seemed greatly pleased with herself, almost high off of her own success.
"Aw would you look at that. Such a pretty little family." Came the familiar voice of Nott Sr.
Harry's eyes fell on him standing before the fireplace. In his hands was Harry's photo album. The only pictures he had of his parents. With a dark chuckle, Nott through the album into the fireplace.
Harry felt his jaw fall open, as many turned to look at Nott and let out cheers of agreement for his actions. At the side of the room lay Harry's trunk, no doubt having been stolen from his room at the Leaky Cauldron. It was open, it's contents having been thrown into the fireplace one after another.
Harry's eyes were locked onto the photo album as it burned. The faces of his parents, the only physical memory of them that Harry had, were quickly consumed by fire.
"BASTARDS!" Harry screamed with rage.
Eyes turned towards him, and mouths began to fall open.
"That's impossible." Someone spoke.
One man immediately had his wand drawn and fired a spell towards Harry. It missed by several feet, blasting into the wooden wall beside him.
At the spells impact, the people began to recover from their shock. A spell went flying at him but missed him to right by about three feet, following a similar path as the first spell.
Another spell came at him, missing him by the same amount.
"What the hell? I hit him!" One of the men shouted in confusion.
"He's not where he appears to be. Aim wide and stay out of his field of vision!" Came the voice of his tormentor. The woman had her wand in hand but Harry's eyes fell upon her, and in an instant, she stopped, turned and began to run away.
He could see her magic through his right eye, he could see it fading as he focused on her. It quickly dawned on him that his right eye didn't just possess the killing sight of the Basilisk but the power to cancel magic.
It seems the radius of this effect was only a few feet from the focal point of his vision.
Magic was beginning to billow off of Harry as his rage grew even further. Suddenly, he began to scream. A roar of undiluted, pure rage. Like a tidal wave, his magic washed over the crowd. One by one, the troop of Death Eaters fell to the rampant chaos of his magic. Some exploded in a shower of gore and blood. Some were seized by some unseen force and held aloft as their skin began to blister and boil. The boils grew until they popped, splashing acidic puss across the room, striking several others, causing them to scream as their skin began to melt. A few people burst into flames, exploding into raw fire. And others, others began to peel apart, their skin flaying off of their bodies, and sent flying away.
Harry's scream of rage, continued through the nightmare. One man, had his skull crushed by an unseen force. Another rapidly bloated, growing grotesquely in size, until his flesh tore apart, causing blood and organs to spray out of him.
The woman, the woman who had tormented him for weeks, the one who had violated his body and maimed him, she had barely made it to the other end of the room, when her lower legs came apart, crumbling under the weight of her admittedly thin frame. She went down with a scream, her lower legs just a puddle of blood and shattered bone beneath her. The only reason the rest of her body did not follow suite, was because of Harry's gaze. The anti-magic qualities of his right eye, had kept the magic from attacking the rest of her body.
The only other person to be spared from the slaughter was Theodore Nott Sr. His ally, the one who had aided him in kidnapping Harry had already died, his body twisting apart into a shower of blood and bones.
Nott Sr, was left alone after only a few quick seconds. The room was painted in blood and organs. Acidic puss churned and ate at the floorboards, melting through the carpet and into the basement. Blood had matted every inch of the ground, it covered the walls, and bathed the ceiling of the old manor in a vicious spray. In some places, shards of bone could be seen, embedded deep into the walls.
Harry stepped through the vile and putrid gore. Stepping through thick puddles of blood, or even ankle deep mounds of organs and viscera. Even the griming pools of acidic that had yet to eat through the floor he stepped through, his flesh coloring with the putrid bile, but remaining unharmed by it.
Soon he was standing over the lord of House Nott, who had dropped to his knees in terror.
"How?!" Theodore managed to utter, only for Harry to grab the man by the throat with his clawed blue hand. With inhuman strength, the boy lifted the man up, holding him at eye level with vicious hatred. With a snarl, Harry threw the man, tossing him right into the fireplace to join with Harry's possessions that smoldered in the fire.
The flames exploded outward, as if fueled by some unseen force, causing the Nott Lord, to become consumed by the flames. He rolled out of the fire, and screamed, clawing at himself as he slapped at the fire.
Even as he rolled in blood, the fires did not die out. Harry glared hatefully at the man, a murderous rage filling his right eye, which seemingly caused the anti-magic quality of the eye to fade.
Nott's screams filled the air, as he was burned alive.
Harry watched him as he burned. His rage, unbroken as the man died a slow and torturous death.
His screams persisted for several long moments as Harry watched the fire burn away his clothes, and skin, exposing and then blackening the muscle underneath.
Nott Sr continued to scream, even as he laid upon the floor, nothing more than a blackened heap that looked more like charcoal than a man.
Harry felt an unnatural calm begin to wash over him as he stared down at the body of the man laid before him.
Slowly, almost numbly, he turned his gaze towards the surrounding corpses. Few actually identifiable bodies could be found amongst the nightmarish scene. A sea of organs and bones, surrounded by blood filled the room. Only a few bits, a hand here, a head there, could identify the scene as having come from human remains. Even the second House Elf had fallen in the chaos, it's gory remains splattered upon a corner of the ceiling, with a visible chunk of it's face, stuck to the wall staring down at the room.
A sound caught his ear as a piece of furniture began to fall through the floor. The acidic puss that had come from some of the corpses, had weakened the floor in some areas enough for the weight of the furniture to push through and begin falling into the basement. As these holes opened in the floor, the rushing of liquid began to fill his ears. Like a nightmarish whirlpool, blood and pieces began to drift into the holes.
Harry felt nothing for the devilish sight. He knew they were monsters, all of them. Sick and depraved. Even the woman who had been the center-point of the festivities, he knew she was a monster too. Yet… thinking on it… he knew her. He had seen her before. A Slytherin from seventh year, on his first year in Hogwarts. Harry couldn't remember her name, yet he was sure that it had been her. His eyes drifted to last place he had seen her.
She wasn't far from her original place. Her body, or what was left of it, thrown roughly over a couch. She was folded backwards over the back of the couch, her skin having been flayed off, her guts exploded outward. The way she laid and from his position he could only see her lower half, his eyes taking in the sight of how her knees were broken sideways, causing her lower legs to point upwards. Her legs forming an unnatural W. He blinked curiously at the sight, unable to feel any sort of disgust in it's visage.
He thought back to the last time he had seen her, an image of a smiling woman talking to her friends had flashed in his mind. He hadn't known her, even now he did not know her name. Yet the last time he had seen her, she appeared happy, pleased with herself. Overjoyed to finally be graduating and going out into the world. Oh how horrific a fate she was destined for. To end up a party favor for a bunch of perverted, murderous Death Eaters.
These people… all of them… were monsters.
Harry blinked once, than twice. How did he know that?
Harry blinked again, raising his hands, he looked at them, as if seeing them for the first time.
He blinked several times, trying to figure out what was wrong.
He knew that something wasn't right. Something was very wrong here, but it didn't immediately click.
Harry continued to blink as Theodore's rasping wheezes finally stopped. When the silence fell upon the room, Harry caught the noise of her movements for the first time.
His eyes snapped over to an opened doorway leading further into the manor. She was awake, trying to crawl into the darkness beyond.
Harry approached it, unconsciously avoiding the spots where the acid had eaten through, or weakened the floor.
His rage was peaking once more. Magic roared out of his body like a vibrant multi-colored aura. The woman as if sensing his approach looked back at him, her eyes filling with horror and amazement. She began to lift into the air, as Harry felt her thoughts, felt her memories fill him.
Her name was Abigail. Abigail McTash. A Death Eater. A witch who studied the blackest of magics, and had aspirations of joining Voldemort's Inner Circle.
Her goal had been to find a way to perfect a Chimera Ritual, that would fuse the magical components used in the ritual, into a single body. Allowing someone to create a more powerful body.
Dozens had died due to her experiments. She was a well known recipient for those the Death Eaters wished a torturous death upon. They knew that anyone brought to her was going to suffer for every second they were alive, before they took their final breath.
She was a vile, heartless woman, devoid of emotion, even the fear she had shown him, was quickly being replaced by a wondrous grin.
"Amazing… Wonderful…" She uttered, and Harry's rage exploded. After all she had done to him, all she had done to torture him and mutilate him, that was what she had to say!?
Her body began to contort, even as Harry threw her to the ground, using nothing more than his mind.
Without even needing a wand, Harry held out his hand. He wanted her to suffer, and the perfect spell came to mind.
"Crucio!" Harry snarled, and the woman's screams filled the air.
Her screams radiated outward, filling every nook and cranny. Harry found himself smiling. His pain, his agony, it was like it was all washing away.
He watched as she was held there, held by his mind, unable to move, unable to spasm or twitch. She was held in place as the torture spell violated her.
He kept the spell on her. Ten seconds. Twenty. Fifty. Two minutes. The common escape from this spell was to spasm so hard you break your back or your neck. She was unable to move however. She could do nothing but scream.
Five minutes. Five full minutes before the screaming stopped. He stared down at her, taking in the sight of her. She was alive… she was alive… but there was nothing left. The pain of the torture curse had burned through her vile mind, tearing it apart. She wasn't just insane, or broken, she was gone. The woman was gone. All that was left was the body. She would lay there, and bleed to death. Blood continued to leak out of the shredded remains of her legs. It wouldn't be long before she joined the rest.
Slowly… he felt his rage dissipate. There was nothing more he could get from her… from this thing. For but a brief moment, she'd felt his pain, and now she was gone.
He looked around. Taking in the carnage of his actions. Thirty-five people, plus two house elves, were dead. thirty-seven lives ended because of him.
It took him by surprise when he saw it. His reflection. A tall, standing mirror in the side of the room. He saw himself standing there. The first thing he noticed was how much be looked like himself, and how much he didn't.
He could see it now… that feeling that had wrapped around him earlier, he now knew what it was. Hanging from his back were two blackish-brown bat-like wings. They were large, and when extended were easily nine maybe ten feet in length.
When retracted, the wings tucked up nicely against his back, able to fold and curl to appear very small. Now that he was consciously aware of them, he found that he could unfold them, fold them in, move them about.
Taking a deep breath, he pondered what they could have been taken from. An answer immediately appeared in his mind. A thestral. A kind of winged-horse that could only be seen by those who'd viewed and accepted death. Despite being attached to him, the rules still applied for him.
Once more, his gaze returned to his reflection. Aside from his arms, and of course the wings, the only other noticeable difference was his right eye. It blazed a golden light, much like how he imagined a Basilisk's eyes would look.
He made a face as he stepped closer to get a better look at his right eye, not noticing as his feet soaked in the blood and viscera of his enemies. He watched as his pupil changed shape. It started as a serpentine slit before shifting into a round circle,. When it became round, he felt the murderous power within it, fade. It was almost like he could turn the killing sight off, switching between it and the anti-magic sight. He'd noticed when the murderous feeling entered into his eye, he no longer canceled magic.
"The golden glow, and magic-canceling effect is found within the Beholder's central eye… but that eye doesn't have the killing sight of a Basilisk…" Harry thought to himself, before a realization came to him.
"How do I know that?" Harry wondered to himself.
He gave himself a once over in the mirror before taking several steps back. He once more glanced around the room, his eyes settling on his trunk. He approached it, expecting to find it empty of his belongings. To his surprise, and elation, he found that it still contained his cloak, tucked into the side of it. He quickly grabbed it, and held it to his chest, beneath the cloak was the Marauder's Map. They were the only two items left in the trunk. Two items that had once belonged to his dad.
He felt tears fall from his eyes, as his gaze drifted over to the fireplace. The burned ashes of his photo album were there, along with all of the other items from his trunk, mostly his school books, though his wand was likely among the objects destroyed as were various gifts and trinkets that had been given to him by his friends or that he'd collected over his time at Hogwarts.
He cried for several long moments before pulling himself to his feet. He draped the cloak over his shoulders, and held onto the map as he lacked any pockets to store it.
Once he had recovered what remained of his possessions he cast a spiteful glance around the room, taking one last look at the dead, his eyes lingering on his tormentor as she laid there, still breathing, but utterly absent. He approached her, and glared down at her form, finally he spat on her body, and watched to his amazement as his spit melted through her clothes and began to eat away at her flesh. She made no noise as this happened.
Slowly, Harry knelt. He reached into his mouth and wet his fingers on his tongue. He then reached out and touched the woman's cheek. He watched with curiosity as her skin began to turn red where he'd touched her, it reddened and began to blister quite quickly, even as she grew paler and paler from blood loss.
He blinked several times before rising back to his feet. Just another thing that she'd done to him.
Wanting to escape this nightmare he quickly found the front door and opened it, stepping out into the night air for what felt like the first time in nearly a life time.
Harry took in a breath and felt himself begin to cry.
It was over… it was finally over.
He brought his hands to his face, as he felt an unimaginable relief wash over him. That was when faces flashed in his mind. The image of the Dursleys was there, and he felt his rage manifest once.
They had started this. They were responsible for this happening to him. They had tormented him all his life, called him a freak. Well… now he was one… and he'd make sure they understood what that meant for them.
His mind was focused heavily on Surrey, on Number Four, Privet Drive. He felt the world dissolve around him, felt himself being pulled by his belly. He blinked several times as color washed out around him. It happened so fast, almost like he was passing through another world, yet in a moment it was gone, and he was standing before his old home.
"How…?" This time, no answer came. He didn't know how to rationalize what had happened, but quickly he realized he was just standing in front of the Dursley's home, so he quickly ducked away.
He made his way forward until he came upon an empty street, where he stopped and sat down on the curb.
'What is going on?' Harry thought to himself as he sat there, alone, and pondered his situation.
Here he was, having just murdered dozens of people, who had, just moments prior, murdered him. Now he was back in Surrey with the full intention of repaying the Dursleys for all of their torment and neglect. He had always had a temper, and he'd always been angry but this feeling, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. It was like how he felt when he'd learned about Sirius and how he had supposedly betrayed his parents, how in the moment, he wanted nothing more than to kill him. It was that feeling, but dialed up to eleven. There was also his survival to consider. He had been struck by the Killing Curse, he should be dead, but he wasn' was alive for some reason.
Harry's eyes drifted down to the mark upon the back of his right hand. This mark, he recognized it. It was the mark of the Deathly Hallows. The Symbol of House Peverell. He knew of what the mark meant, of the story of the three brothers. They had earned boons from Death itself. One a wand, one a stone, and one a cloak. The wand was said to be stronger than any other wand in existence, the stone could bring back the dead, and the cloak could hide a person from anything, even Death itself.
How did he know all of this? Why was the knowledge just there? He remembered being dead, how he felt himself being pulled apart by four separate entities. How the fifth had come to save him. He remembered it's comforting embrace. Like the cold embrace of death. It had felt like an escape, from all the pain, from all the torment.
Something had happened to him then, something shared between the five entities.
He remembered how Abigail had done something to him, prior to his death. Placed four entities inside of his body, and he remembered how they had dissolved into him, only to be pulled free by the four entities that had tried to claim him after his death. They had changed that energy, altered whatever the witch had given him, only to put it back inside of him.
He had no earthly clue what had been shared between the five entities, only that some sort of agreement had been met. He pondered, if only for a moment, if that agreement was his reason for being alive.
'What does this all mean?' Harry thought to himself.
Seconds passed as he pondered his situation.
'How did I know those people? How do I know what some of this stuff is? How…?' Harry suddenly stopped as he remembered the life that had flashed before his eyes, a life that was not his. He knew who it belonged to though, he knew without a shadow of doubt because in that life he remembered seeing it. Seeing the girl's bathroom at Hogwarts, the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Slytherin's statue, and the Basilisk itself. He had seen those things in the flashes of this other life, and he knew it could belong to only one man.
"Voldemort?" Harry thought to himself in confusion and wonderment.
Without thinking, he reached up and rubbed the flesh of his scar on his forehead. He blinked several times before a realization suddenly struck him.
'The diary… it was a horcrux?' Harry recognized with confusion, uncertain of where that realization had come from.
"No, please… don't hurt them!" Harry heard a woman's voice scream in his mind. The voice was vaguely familiar to him. It sounded almost like how he imagined his mother's voice would sound. How he had imagined it sounding when he was attacked by Dementors last year.
"Out of the way!" Voldemort's voice echoed.
"Please!" She screamed again.
"Avada Kadavra!" Harry jerked as a bright green light flashed in his eyes.
He found himself standing over the body of his mother. He felt horror well up in his gut as he stared down at her lifeless body, her face twisted in fear and despair.
'Mama! Mama! Mama! Mama!' He raised his gaze at the sound of a child screaming. His eyes settled on a crib. Two children sat there. One was standing and looked to be around two, maybe three years old. It looked like a girl who was the crying out for her mother. Beside the standing girl, was a younger child that sat upright staring out at him, obviously too young to comprehend what had happened, but it was clear that he was scared as fresh tears fell from his cheeks.
The girl kept screaming and crying for her mother, causing him to raise his arm.
To his horror, he found a wand grasped in his hand, pointed now at the crying little girl.
"Avada Kadavra!"The words erupted from his lips, in a voice that wasn't his own. The light shot forward, striking the girl, only for a blinding flash to occur, and when it did, Harry felt himself thrown out of the memory.
He sat there, on that street corner, shaking, as the realization poured into him. What he had seen, that had been the death of his parents. He'd seen it through Voldemort's eyes. How? How was that possible?
'It was his soul!' Harry realized with horror.
'A Horcrux… just like the diary… In me...' Harry realized. This knowledge, it was Voldemort's. He had a piece Voldemort's soul living inside of him.
The reason why he had all of this knowledge all of a sudden, was because it was Voldemort's knowledge. Something had happened when he died, somehow, Voldemort's soul had bonded with his. The life he'd seen flash before his eyes, had been Voldemorts.
Voldemort had created several soul anchors to keep himself from dying, and had accidentally created another, when his spell rebounded off that girl, and destroyed him. That girl…
A sister…
Harry blinked several times as that dawned on him.
"I have a sister. Is she alive? Did she die as well? Why didn't anyone ever tell me!" Harry began to wonder as he clutched at his head in pain.
"Why did you come after us? You were targeting the children, not my parents…" Harry recognized after a moment of thought.
As if the answer was waiting to spring forth, words began to play in his mind.
'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…'
A prophecy… no… half of a prophecy. Given by that psychotic bat of a divination professor, Trelawney. A prophecy delivered in part to Voldemort, by Severus Snape. There were three options in Voldemort's mind, as to whom the prophecy could refer to. Neville Longbottom was one, Harry another, and the last was his older sister, Olivia. All three of them, had been born at the end of July. With Olivia being a full year older than Harry. Voldemort didn't know which of the three it could be, so he chose to kill all three of them, targeting the Potters himself.
'Why did no one ever tell me about her? Olivia… I had a sister too.' Harry thought, mournfully.
He sat there for several long minutes, as tears spilled from his eyes. It was hard enough, thinking about his parents, and how he couldn't even remember them, it was even worse now knowing that he'd had a big sister too. From the looks of it, it had been her death that had caused Voldemort's curse to rebound on him. He didn't know why it happened, Voldemort had definitely not been expecting it, but it seems that was the reason Harry himself survived.
'She died… and I lived… and no ever told me about her…' Harry muttered into his mind, his anger finding purchase in his heart once more.
'He came there… because of that kook Trelawney. Because Snape… had given him a part of her prophecy. My family died because of them, because Pettigrew told him where we were!' Harry growled to himself, as tears began to fall from his eyes.
"You're still out there… aren't you Tom? You splintered your soul in the hopes of gaining immortality. When I destroyed the diary, that piece of your soul went to death, but when I died, I took the piece of you inside of me, with me. But we didn't separate. Your soul fused with mine, and when I came back, I brought part of you with me." Harry blinked several times as the realization finally settled in. He had been gifted with all of Voldemort's knowledge from the moment he was destroyed thirteen years ago. He also had the power of his soul, taken from his Horcrux.
Voldemort intended to create six Horcruxes. He intended to use the murder of the Potters, to create his sixth one, so there'd be seven pieces to his soul.
Harry now had one of those pieces, with the other being destroyed, and he knew where three of the remaining five were. One was placed in the Gaunt family ring, which was hidden in the Gaunt Shack. One was hidden in Slytherin's Locket, contained in a cave, by the seaside where Voldemort had grown up. One was in Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem hidden in the Room of Requirements at Hogwarts. The final Horcrux was Helga Hufflepuffs Cup, which he'd given to one of his lieutenants, Bellatrix Lestrange, and only she knew where it was hidden. Then of course, there was Voldemort himself, who held the final and largest piece of his soul, well… probably not anymore.
Two of them, Harry could reach easily, and one more he could get from Hogwarts, that would leave only the Cup, and Voldemort himself. He'd have to find out what happened to Bellatrix, but once he got the cup's location from her, he could work on dealing with it.
A realization quickly dawned on him as he rose to his feet. He could do a lot right now, to damage Voldemort, and make him a far more manageable foe. He had Voldemort's knowledge. He could go and get the ring and the locket right now, and find a way to deal with them. Without these soul anchors, Voldemort would be rendered a mortal. Meaning once he showed his face again, Harry could kill him for good.
He knew what traps lay around the ring and the locket, he knew what magic he'd need to reach them, and acquire them safely. He just needed to test a few things first.
Harry stood there silently for a moment. He had a piece of Voldemort's soul within him. He had part of Voldemort's power, he had the full range of his knowledge, up until the moment the last piece was placed. He knew how to apparate, but that hadn't been what he'd done before. Whatever he'd done to get here, had come from whatever Abigail had put into his gut. He didn't know how to replicate that power, but with Voldemort's memories, surely he could also Apparate if he needed too.
Standing still for a few seconds, and just thinking on it, he decided to try it. He focused on it, finding the knowledge of the skill easily filling his mind. With almost impossible ease, he could feel how it felt to activate the skill, it was surreal to experience, knowing the memories weren't his own.
There was something he needed to do first, something he needed to confirm.
Harry let out a breath, and activated the spell. In an instant he felt himself being pulled through the air, and squeezed. It felt like he was being pressed through a tube. In a moment though, it was over, and he was standing back in the park where he'd first been attacked by Dudley and his gang. He was almost exactly where he'd envisioned.
A laugh escaped his mouth as he felt across his body, looking to see if he'd accidentally splinched himself.
Finding everything intact, he let out another laugh.
This was going to be fun.
Harry did it again and Apparated right into the living room of Number Four.
He could hear arguing coming from the kitchen and he stood there, waiting for the moment they came to investigate the loud crack he had made upon appearing.
Slowly, Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley entered into the room. Petunia let out a gasp of fright at the sight of him, while her husband and son visibly paled. He was still draped in a black cloak, and his right eye continued to blaze like fire.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to talk you into letting me come back." Harry declared staring at them with murderous intent
"You're goddamn right you're not coming back!" Vernon screamed at him, his face red with rage. The man quickly grabbed a nearby baseball bat and held it up threateningly.
Harry stared at him for several long moments before his eyes settled on Petunia.
"There's something I want to know." Harry spoke, causing all three to recoil in fear, his voice sounded murderous, and the look in his eyes was terrifying.
"Ha-Harry?" Petunia spoke in disbelief.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Harry asked, taking a step forward, causing all three to step back.
"Tell you what?" Petunia asked.
"About my sister?" He asked, and she visibly paled.
"You knew?" Harry realized as he caught sight of her reaction.
"Harry…" Petunia began.
"Is she alive?" Harry asked, knowing full well that she'd been struck by the Killing Curse, meaning she was definitely dead. Still, people say he had survived it, it's what he was famous for. He now knew that wasn't true, but still… a part of him couldn't help but hope.
"You weren't supposed to know…" Petunia answered.
Harry's eyes went wide at her words, and unconsciously, he saw into Petunia's mind as a memory played there, one where she argued with Dumbledore.
-Flashback-
"He has to stay here Petunia. He has too. There is no one else." Dumbledore pleaded with her.
"You're such a liar! Tell James to take his bastard with him. I want nothing to do with Lily's little hellspawn!" Petunia shrieked at him.
"He cannot do that. The children wont be safe together. He has to be here, where he can be found. If any part of you ever loved your sister, than you will do this. You will protect her children. James has offered to see you well compensated for your efforts. Raise the boy, once he has reached adulthood and left this place, you'll have access to more money than you can imagine. Go anywhere, do anything with it. It's a long time I know, but just imagine it. Just raise the boy, and you'll have everything you've ever wanted." Dumbledore offered, his bribe being the only thing that caused Petunia's gaze to soften.
She shared a glance with her husband and after a moment, nodded in acceptance. "Fine."
-End Flashback-
'James… offered?' Harry thought to himself in disbelief, when suddenly, one of Voldemort's memories flashed before his eyes.
He could see his father, standing before the Dark Lord, he cast a spell which Voldemort batted away. Voldemort than launched his own spell which threw James Potter back against a wall, knocking him unconscious.
"Be thankful, Lord Potter, that your blood is so precious and you are still so young. You will have the chance to prove your loyalty to our cause, to your fellow purebloods. When you awaken, you'll be free from these pathetic wretches, and you will fulfill your duty to our cause, and to the magical world. Be grateful, that I am so forgiving." Voldemort spoke down at the unconscious body with hate.
He then continued on into the house and up the stairs, leaving James Potter alive.
Harry was left standing there, blinking to himself. It took several long moments for him to realize the truth that had just been revealed to him.
His father was alive.
And Dumbledore had said that the 'children' wouldn't be safe together. That meant that his sister was alive as well.
"Why?" He asked aloud as his gaze locked onto the trio.
"Harry, please…" Petunia spoke softly, raising a hand as if to try and placate him.
"Why did my father leave me here with you wretched people?" Harry demanded.
Petunia was silent, her arms dropping to her sides as she stared at him.
"You don't know?" Harry asked.
"I don't know. The old man just said you wouldn't be safe with them." Petunia repeated what he already knew.
"You knew… all this time. You were going to be rich, and all you had to do was take care of me until I was old enough to leave. I always thought I was a burden, I always thought I was a nuisance. That was all a lie!" Harry snapped at her, his anger causing things in the room to begin to rattle.
None of them had any words to defend themselves. They couldn't even pretend to justify it without revealing how they really felt about him.
They had never tried to hide it, never been dishonest about it. They hated him, they had always hated him. Not even the promise of riches, and fortune, could convince them to play nice for seventeen years.
Harry couldn't take it anymore. He felt his rage skyrocket, as murderous intent filled his right eye. He instantly slammed it shut, not wanting them to escape so easily.
He advanced on them, Vernon let out a gasp and swung at him with the baseball bat. Harry raised his left arm, allowing the blow to strike against the scaled flesh. No pain registered, and his arm barely moved from the full force of Vernon's strike. He easily brushed aside the strike and then punched the fat man as hard as he could with his left arm. The blow landed square in Vernon's chest, and a loud crack was heard as the man went down.
With a single punch, Harry had broken his chest plate, and shredded his internal organs with broken bones. Dudley turned to run, while Petunia let out a shriek. Harry seized the woman by the throat with his right arm, while holding out his left towards Dudley. The fat boy was already opening the back door when his feet were ripped out from under him, and the door was slammed closed. He was dragged back towards Harry by an unseen force, all the while wailing in pain.
Harry only briefly took note of the bandages on Dudley's face, where Harry had kicked him hard enough to break his nose some time before.
In a moment of manic lucidity, Harry decided to finish the job. Dudley was dragged beside Harry, so that his head was right next to Harry's foot.
With a vicious growl, Harry raised his foot and brought it down on Dudley's head, crushing it like a grape, and cracking the floorboards beneath his skull.
His eyes then returned to Petunia, and he immediately noticed how her face was turning blue. He could see the skin of her neck was turning black, as the cells were frozen. It took only a few more seconds for Harry to realize he could see his own breath. The magic radiating in the air, nearly prevented him from noticing it. It seems as his anger grew, the frigid aura of his right arm, became more intense. He watched the life fade out of Petunia's eyes, as the blood in her neck was frozen, preventing any from reaching her brain.
She died in mere moments, and Harry felt nothing but malicious glee at the sight of it.
He dropped her body to the ground before turning his eyes back to Vernon. The man was convulsing and throwing up blood. His death was coming soon.
Harry didn't want him to leave just yet, so he held out his hand, and uttered that word. The one he knew would make him feel better.
"Crucio!" Vernon screamed, spraying blood out of his mouth as he convulsed.
He only lasted a few seconds as he jerked and twisted, choking on his blood as he died.
It was over in only a few moments, and Harry was left to glare hatefully down at them, reveling in the demise of his long time tormentors. The looks of fear and terror plastered on two of their three faces was like a sweet reward for all that he'd endured because of them.
Not for one moment did he feel any pity, or remorse. He simply felt free.
A part of him wanted to simply walk out, but he knew that he needed to find some way to remove any evidence of what had been done to them. While muggles wouldn't have an answer for what happened, magicals may figure it out. They had ways of finding out how people died. If the mystery persisted long enough, than someone with the right knowledge may put the pieces together and Harry didn't want that.
So drawing upon Voldemort's own nefarious mind. Harry stepped over the bodies of his relatives and into the kitchen. He found the gas line, and broke it, allowing gas to fill the house. He then turned on one of the burners on the oven and apparated out of the house and onto a nearby street. He stood silently and watched. After several long moments, the windows of the first floor blew out, as the gas was ignited. The first floor filled with flames and soon, Number Four was a fireball.
People began to fill the street, many coming to investigate the blaze.
Once he saw that the house was fully consumed, Harry turned and walked away. The Dursleys were gone, they were gone and he was finally free. He didn't even notice how the fire began to spread to the house next door, nor would he have cared. In that moment, all that mattered was that he was finally free of them.
What should have been a great weight off his shoulders, went almost unnoticed, as Harry's mind whirled with the knowledge that his father had survived that fateful night thirteen years ago. His father was alive, and so was his sister.
How she had survived was a mystery, and it was obvious that not even Voldemort had known of her survival.
He had been separated from her, in order to keep them safe, but why?
Harry had arrived at the park and sat himself on a bench. He was staring blankly off into nothingness as he pondered that.
Why was he left here? Why couldn't he go with his sister and father? Harry sat there in wonderment, as an idea began to form in his head. It was an idea, born from everything he knew in his life, along with everything that Voldemort knew about Dumbledore.
To Voldemort, Dumbledore was a liar, a manipulator, and a conniving puppet master, who'd do anything and manipulate anyone to get what he wanted.
He was a deceiver. What if… what if Harry had been left behind, as a deception?
Everyone in the world knew of the Boy-Who-Lived. The boy who had survived that fateful night. But… Harry knew that was a lie. Voldemort's last memory was attacking his older sister, he'd never even targeted Harry. Yet the old man had gone and told everyone that he was the Boy-Who-Lived. A lie, that Dumbledore knew was a lie. A lie that even Voldemort had believed, as evident by his match with Quirrelmort first year.
What if Dumbledore wanted all eyes on Harry? What if he was using him as bait. The prophecy that drove Voldemort to murder his mother, had indicated it was one of three children, yet Voldemort knew only half of the prophecy. Perhaps the other half held the true identity of the Chosen One, and if that was the case then Dumbledore knew it, knew who it was.
If Harry truly was the one that the prophecy spoke of, than why would Dumbledore place him in danger by allowing and propagating the story of the Boy-Who-Lived? Only two answers came to mind. Either he was a senile lunatic, or he was just as cunning and deceptive as Voldemort knew him to be, in which case, Harry was a distraction, a ruse, to fool the enemy.
The reason Harry had been left behind, was as bait, to lure Voldemort away from the real Chosen One.
How right was he?
As that question burned in his mind, Harry couldn't help but tremble with rage.
The idea burned at him, tormented him. To think that his whole life, that everything he'd been forced to endure, had all been for a massive deception. Hell… it was because of this deception that Harry had been mutilated and turned into a monster!
He felt sick, he felt enraged. Tears boiled in his eyes as he glared hatefully at the ground.
It was as he sat there, letting his confusion, and anger wash through him that he felt a sudden sense of worry and elation.
It was enough to break him out of his musings. He glanced around and his eyes soon fell upon a sight that caused his heart to soar.
There trotting towards him was a black shaggy dog.
"Sirius!" Harry spoke with excitement, as he shot to his feet. A moment later, as his anti-magic eye settled on the Animagus, the dog was forcefully reverted back to a human.
Harry watched as Sirius plopped onto the ground mid trot, and let out a curse.
"What the hell?" Sirius groaned in confusion.
Harry let out a half laugh half gasp as he realized what had happened, quickly he closed his right eye, as Sirius sat up and looked around.
"What just happened to me?" Sirius asked with a bewildered look.
"Sorry Sirius, that was me. Didn't mean too. What are you doing here?" Harry asked as he took a few steps towards Sirius who finally focused his eyes on him.
"What am I doing here? Well I've been looking for you of course! Where the hell have you been?" Sirius questioned, as he rose to his feet and approached Harry, placing his arms on Harry's shoulders, only to pull back when he felt the familiar cold chill of his right arm.
"You were looking for me?" Harry asked, as he felt his heart soar at hearing that. Someone had tried to find him. Someone cared enough to go looking. There weren't words to describe how happy he was to hear that.
"Yeah. When we heard from the Weasleys that you'd been kicked out by the Dursleys, Remus and I came to join the others in looking for you. It shouldn't have been so difficult. Dumbledore placed a tracking charm on you, just in case you were ever stolen by Death Eaters, but they stopped working all of a sudden. No one could find you. We've been looking for days Harry. Are you alright? What happened?" Sirius answered him after a moment.
"Dumbledore put a tracking charm on me?" Harry asked, as he felt his anger beginning to return.
"I know, I wasn't too happy to hear about it either, but it was meant to be for your protection. Please… tell me what happened." Sirius read Harry's look and tried to placate him.
"I'm not angry that he put a tracking charm on me, I'm angry that it DIDN'T DAMN WORK!" Harry snapped at him, pulling away from Sirius running a hand over his head, pulling down his hood as he did.
"It didn't work?" Sirius responded, moving with him.
"You said he put it on me just in case I was kidnapped by Death Eaters? Well guess what?" Harry turned to him with a snarl, fighting with all his might to keep his right eye closed as he felt it fill with murderous intent.
"Harry…" Sirius spoke softy, as he heard that, just then taking note of the scars on Harry's neck.
"I'm not fine… Sirius." Harry replied as he held up his left arm. He allowed the cloak to fall past it, giving Sirius a good look at the deep blue coloring of his scaled arm.
"What… is that…?" He asked, taking a step forward and gently taking Harry's hand. He examined it, rotating it back and forth, before lifting his eyes to meet with Harry's. Slowly, he reached up, touching the right side of his face, while Harry felt his breathing grow heavy.
"She tore me apart… Sirius… she tore my body apart… and attached monster parts to me!" Harry spoke as tears began to well up in his eyes.
In an instant, his anger began to wash away, as the overwhelming nature of his situation began to consume him.
He had been mutilated and turned into a monster. He was a freak now. A bonafide monster.
He broke down, and began crying.
Swiftly, he found himself in Sirius' embrace. He could do nothing but wrap his arms around his Godfather, as some sort of lifeline as all of his pain finally came out.
"Shhh… it's okay pup. It's okay. You're safe now. I'll make sure no one ever hurts you again. I promise." Sirius whispered to him.
For the first time in his entire life, Harry felt like he could trust someone. He barely knew anything about Sirius, accept what was shared in their few letters and from what others had told him, and yet, in this moment, he felt the man's righteous fury, and burning desire to avenge his pain.
Harry knew, without a shadow of a doubt, those words, were more than a promise, they were an oath. Sirius would never turn away from him… he wasn't alone.
"Come on Harry, let's get out of here." Sirius said to him, earning a nod from the boy, the two departing, intent on leaving Surrey behind forever.
-To Be Continued-
Yay, Harry has been reunited with his Godfather, hopefully things will start looking up for him, after the shit he's been through. At the very least, he deserves a break.