Harry Potter A Hellish Imprint
- Thread starter SotF
- Start date
His head was swimming.
Thousands of silvery shards had pierced his body from all directions.
His eyes flashed, the red dimming, changing back the dull emerald as he landed on the floor in a heap.
Blood was pooling around him, inching almost like a fleeing army scattering from a destroyed fortress.
His vision was dimming, and Harry knew it would be over.
The magic that had followed the image it had been forced to take was ending, and taking with it the form he'd taken. Fangs receding as the parasite attached to a human host laughed after the single eerie green spell had flashed across the room.
Harry's magic was strong enough to resist the curse itself, but at the same time the resistance had sent him flying across the chamber to crash through the mirror.
His hand, feeling so cold wrapped aroung the blood red stone through the gloves.
It was powerful, but he would not give it to the sorcerous trash that had raised a wand against him. A fool who reveled in the power, not bothering to learn the true powers that would prove your power.
His mind flashed back to the collapsing room at his Uncle and Aunts with the flashes, a similar death had taken then to the one that was now taking him.
Only he had someone gloating over his broken and battered body.
A decision was made and he slammed the crystalline stone that could grant immortality and wealth beyond the most imaginative wishes to the white marble of the floor.
Voldemort's eyes widened and face paled as he screamed in outrage, raising his wand for another attempt at torturing the boy.
The sound of crystal almost like the sound one would expect from a jar of coins resounded deafeningly in the would be vampires ears.
A crimson spell rocketed towards him as he laughed, the mocking tone he had come to make his own.
And then it was silent.
The dark wizard walked towards the downed boy and his eyes widened again as the crystal shards seemed to reduce themselves to a liquid, merging with the life blood of the boy.
He stepped backwards as the flow of crimson seemed to retreat, returning to the being as some shards seemed through the clothes.
Swirling darkness flooded the room, making it hard to breath as the heir of Salazar Slytherin was sure he could hear the steady beat of a heart that grew louder almost as a drum pounded on parade that was nearing.
Harry's mind remembered being found that day all so long ago as power, unbelievable power, rushed through his veins as liquid fire.
His magic reacted, pushing back into the familiar patterns his body had adapted itself to years before. A swirling stream of blood carried his cloths upwards, rising high while his form disintegrated and then reformed in midair with a blast of raw power that set off what seemed like every single ward up to even Diagon Alley.
People all over the world remembered seeing what looked like droplets of blood stain the moon for the night.
Voldemort was panicking as he watched the mist begin to dissipate to reveal the hellfire eyes of his foe.
Fangs glistened in the dim light that had cut through the devilish fog.
"Beautiful night," Harry seemed to ask himself as his eyes locked with the darkened specter of a wizard, "Isn't it?"
The twin screams of the teacher and the parasite echoed through the ancient halls of the castle.
xXx
Dumbledore and Snape had responded to the tripping of the wards around the philosophers stones hideaway.
The image they had come across was not what they had expected, and one that had the wand Albus Dumbledore falling from a limp had to clatter across the blood stained stones while Severus Snape took three steps backwards.
Quirrel was dead, that much was instantly certain, the silver pike that seemed to come from the stonework itself had penetrated the man to extend the bloody tip high into the air while pointing at the shattered mirror that was now without glass.
The sound of mad laughter reached them from high above, muffled partially by the fortress.
xXx
Atop the tallest tower, Harry Potter laughed at the foolish one who had dared to challenge him.
The wraith had managed to escape him, but it was no matter.
He would face Voldemort once more, let the piece of filth run and plan.
Nothing could stop a true No Life King...
Thousands of silvery shards had pierced his body from all directions.
His eyes flashed, the red dimming, changing back the dull emerald as he landed on the floor in a heap.
Blood was pooling around him, inching almost like a fleeing army scattering from a destroyed fortress.
His vision was dimming, and Harry knew it would be over.
The magic that had followed the image it had been forced to take was ending, and taking with it the form he'd taken. Fangs receding as the parasite attached to a human host laughed after the single eerie green spell had flashed across the room.
Harry's magic was strong enough to resist the curse itself, but at the same time the resistance had sent him flying across the chamber to crash through the mirror.
His hand, feeling so cold wrapped aroung the blood red stone through the gloves.
It was powerful, but he would not give it to the sorcerous trash that had raised a wand against him. A fool who reveled in the power, not bothering to learn the true powers that would prove your power.
His mind flashed back to the collapsing room at his Uncle and Aunts with the flashes, a similar death had taken then to the one that was now taking him.
Only he had someone gloating over his broken and battered body.
A decision was made and he slammed the crystalline stone that could grant immortality and wealth beyond the most imaginative wishes to the white marble of the floor.
Voldemort's eyes widened and face paled as he screamed in outrage, raising his wand for another attempt at torturing the boy.
The sound of crystal almost like the sound one would expect from a jar of coins resounded deafeningly in the would be vampires ears.
A crimson spell rocketed towards him as he laughed, the mocking tone he had come to make his own.
And then it was silent.
The dark wizard walked towards the downed boy and his eyes widened again as the crystal shards seemed to reduce themselves to a liquid, merging with the life blood of the boy.
He stepped backwards as the flow of crimson seemed to retreat, returning to the being as some shards seemed through the clothes.
Swirling darkness flooded the room, making it hard to breath as the heir of Salazar Slytherin was sure he could hear the steady beat of a heart that grew louder almost as a drum pounded on parade that was nearing.
Harry's mind remembered being found that day all so long ago as power, unbelievable power, rushed through his veins as liquid fire.
His magic reacted, pushing back into the familiar patterns his body had adapted itself to years before. A swirling stream of blood carried his cloths upwards, rising high while his form disintegrated and then reformed in midair with a blast of raw power that set off what seemed like every single ward up to even Diagon Alley.
People all over the world remembered seeing what looked like droplets of blood stain the moon for the night.
Voldemort was panicking as he watched the mist begin to dissipate to reveal the hellfire eyes of his foe.
Fangs glistened in the dim light that had cut through the devilish fog.
"Beautiful night," Harry seemed to ask himself as his eyes locked with the darkened specter of a wizard, "Isn't it?"
The twin screams of the teacher and the parasite echoed through the ancient halls of the castle.
xXx
Dumbledore and Snape had responded to the tripping of the wards around the philosophers stones hideaway.
The image they had come across was not what they had expected, and one that had the wand Albus Dumbledore falling from a limp had to clatter across the blood stained stones while Severus Snape took three steps backwards.
Quirrel was dead, that much was instantly certain, the silver pike that seemed to come from the stonework itself had penetrated the man to extend the bloody tip high into the air while pointing at the shattered mirror that was now without glass.
The sound of mad laughter reached them from high above, muffled partially by the fortress.
xXx
Atop the tallest tower, Harry Potter laughed at the foolish one who had dared to challenge him.
The wraith had managed to escape him, but it was no matter.
He would face Voldemort once more, let the piece of filth run and plan.
Nothing could stop a true No Life King...
Olivander was starting to worry, he'd never had someone who was seemingly incompatible with every single wand he owned.
He'd started wondering about some of the want alternatives after the brother wand of Voldemort's seemed to set itself alight when the boy had picked it up.
Trying to reaffirm his conviction about having a wand for everyone, he went through the back cabinets to pull out some of the items various wizards had used in place of a wand or staff. Staves were rare mainly because of their size and the difficulty to make the correct motions with them and were also more expensive due to the materials required to make them, as such they were rare. Others had preferred daggers, the metal being another difficult thing to work with though they were far superior to wands with ritualistic magics.
A small box caught his eye, one of the few things his father had experimented with in his later years.
Some of the muggleborn children of nobility had taken to utilizing gloves made with some of the magical cloth of various creatures and marked with ashes worked into them as they were made, leaving them to appear th color of the cloth until used when markings unique to the specific wizard would appear.
In more recent years several of the various hunter mages employed by other countries had found a use for them although the locals rarely had any, viewing them with disdain as something new and preferred the visible displays of the more visible spellcasting.
Of course the gloves had other benefits, namely in that they freed the hands from requiring them to hold onto something.
He brought the box over to the crimson clad boy and started to lay them out only to find the first one working.
"Interesting, very interesting," the wand maker said to himself as his customer left a moment later, "Magical silk and the ash of a Transylvanian vampire."
A moments pause as he replaced the box in its place.
"He will definitely be one to watch."
He'd started wondering about some of the want alternatives after the brother wand of Voldemort's seemed to set itself alight when the boy had picked it up.
Trying to reaffirm his conviction about having a wand for everyone, he went through the back cabinets to pull out some of the items various wizards had used in place of a wand or staff. Staves were rare mainly because of their size and the difficulty to make the correct motions with them and were also more expensive due to the materials required to make them, as such they were rare. Others had preferred daggers, the metal being another difficult thing to work with though they were far superior to wands with ritualistic magics.
A small box caught his eye, one of the few things his father had experimented with in his later years.
Some of the muggleborn children of nobility had taken to utilizing gloves made with some of the magical cloth of various creatures and marked with ashes worked into them as they were made, leaving them to appear th color of the cloth until used when markings unique to the specific wizard would appear.
In more recent years several of the various hunter mages employed by other countries had found a use for them although the locals rarely had any, viewing them with disdain as something new and preferred the visible displays of the more visible spellcasting.
Of course the gloves had other benefits, namely in that they freed the hands from requiring them to hold onto something.
He brought the box over to the crimson clad boy and started to lay them out only to find the first one working.
"Interesting, very interesting," the wand maker said to himself as his customer left a moment later, "Magical silk and the ash of a Transylvanian vampire."
A moments pause as he replaced the box in its place.
"He will definitely be one to watch."
This breaks my brain with awesome. I've never before seen such a well done attempt at making Harry Alucard-like, which this done in more than spades. This goes far, far beyond words. And using the Philosopher's stone to empower his transformation in such a way is a rather nice touch.
As far as using Luna for Seras, she wouldn't run from him... but Seras didn't get to run. If you choose to use another character (and I'd agree to the suggestion of fannon!Susan Bones) just... prevent running. I also have to agree that Luna would make a better Schrodinger(sp) but I think the best role for her would be perhaps Rip Van Winkle.
As far as the omake, I don't think we will/should be seeing a Integra/Hellsing-equivalent. It was highly implied everywhere that while he may have been trapped originally, Alucard continues to serve the Helling family solely for the sake of his own amusement. Harrycard doesn't have enough memories and boredom built up to warrant something like that, so short of someone who's uptight, rule and duty bound, and prone to flying off the handle after a temper with at least a decent fuse tricks him into service... yeah, total free mad vampire.
Regardless, I want lots and lots moar of this.
As far as using Luna for Seras, she wouldn't run from him... but Seras didn't get to run. If you choose to use another character (and I'd agree to the suggestion of fannon!Susan Bones) just... prevent running. I also have to agree that Luna would make a better Schrodinger(sp) but I think the best role for her would be perhaps Rip Van Winkle.
As far as the omake, I don't think we will/should be seeing a Integra/Hellsing-equivalent. It was highly implied everywhere that while he may have been trapped originally, Alucard continues to serve the Helling family solely for the sake of his own amusement. Harrycard doesn't have enough memories and boredom built up to warrant something like that, so short of someone who's uptight, rule and duty bound, and prone to flying off the handle after a temper with at least a decent fuse tricks him into service... yeah, total free mad vampire.
Regardless, I want lots and lots moar of this.
Interesting Idea, though I have to agree, I don't really think Luna fits for Seras, Susan you could even have in a similar situation, if Volde launched his plan to take out Amelia early, Have Harry find out about it and appear just in time for Volde or Lucy for that matter would for as well If Volde isn't corporeal to grab Susan in hopes of using her to get out of there alive, much as the vamp priest in the first part of Hellsing.
just an idea is all, look forward to seeing where you take this.
Alex
just an idea is all, look forward to seeing where you take this.
Alex
Draco Malfoy, for a mere moment, wondered why he was sticking up for Potter.
It had been an odd situation, petrified students and then the stupid dueling club with a summoned snake.
He found it ridiculous that the crimson clad lunatic was responsible, and there was no way he could be related to Salazar.
The truth was that he'd already come to understand that the fanged wizard wouldn't have left survivors if he wanted to kill someone, and he'd do it himself rather than sending what had to be a less dangerous beast than himself to do the job.
Potter, he mused, was like that, if he didn't like you, he'd hurt you up close and personal while being terrifyingly creative about it.
After all, his father was still complaining about the broom that had been shot out from under him by the boy.
After the previous year, he had started to muse on what would be a better career choice if "wizard" fell through or if he annoyed that beast to a degree that made it dangerous to remain.
Perhaps the priesthood would work...
It had been an odd situation, petrified students and then the stupid dueling club with a summoned snake.
He found it ridiculous that the crimson clad lunatic was responsible, and there was no way he could be related to Salazar.
The truth was that he'd already come to understand that the fanged wizard wouldn't have left survivors if he wanted to kill someone, and he'd do it himself rather than sending what had to be a less dangerous beast than himself to do the job.
Potter, he mused, was like that, if he didn't like you, he'd hurt you up close and personal while being terrifyingly creative about it.
After all, his father was still complaining about the broom that had been shot out from under him by the boy.
After the previous year, he had started to muse on what would be a better career choice if "wizard" fell through or if he annoyed that beast to a degree that made it dangerous to remain.
Perhaps the priesthood would work...
The centaurs were confused.
Firenze had reported about his contact with an unusual young human who had engaged in a running battle after a wraith of some sort.
The stars were being even stranger in their clues about Harry Potter.
Jupiter, Mars, and Pluto all bright and seeming to grow stronger in the light of the blood moon.
A combination they had never seen before, a king of death and war while born of blood.
If nothing else, the fate of the boy would be interesting to watch.
Firenze had reported about his contact with an unusual young human who had engaged in a running battle after a wraith of some sort.
The stars were being even stranger in their clues about Harry Potter.
Jupiter, Mars, and Pluto all bright and seeming to grow stronger in the light of the blood moon.
A combination they had never seen before, a king of death and war while born of blood.
If nothing else, the fate of the boy would be interesting to watch.
Harry remembered...
He remembered the sound of the television being interupted with flashes of multiclored light.
He remembered what had happened, pain everywhere as the black clad crazies with skull white masks attacked the house when he was barely even four years old.
He remembered the feel of hot and sticky splashes of fresh blood as his relatives died, only moments before something structural was hit, bringing the roof down on top of him.
He remembered being trapped for nearly two days amidst the rubble with the corpses of his aunt, uncle, and cousin.
He remembered the miraculously intact and operational television constantly replaying the video.
He remembered the line that had been burned into his brain, "It's a nice night isn't it..."
And the world would never be the same...
xXx
The institute was the first place he remembered after that night, the doctors and nurses were patching the pale boy up from his ordeal.
He clutched a crimson fedora that he had seen in the lost and found box, an item that had been in it for years according to the custodian of the building and had let him keep it.
In the dark his mind tried to mix what had been written into it with what was real, his magic taking what he believed of himself to be real and making it reality.
It was only a day before he was aimed to be discharged to a foster family that the obliviators were forced to come as a Hellhound was apparently there only to see it change back into a small boy with now crimson eyes.
xXx
Harry worked with his powers, trying to return them to what he believed in his now healed head had been their way.
The bullies had not yet learned their lesson as the boy in the hat seemed to dissolve into a black mist and the screams had begun.
xXx
Olivander was starting to worry, he'd never had someone who was seemingly incompatible with every single wand he owned.
He'd started wondering about some of the want alternatives after the brother wand of Voldemort's seemed to set itself alight when the boy had picked it up.
Trying to reaffirm his conviction about having a wand for everyone, he went through the back cabinets to pull out some of the items various wizards had used in place of a wand or staff. Staves were rare mainly because of their size and the difficulty to make the correct motions with them and were also more expensive due to the materials required to make them, as such they were rare. Others had preferred daggers, the metal being another difficult thing to work with though they were far superior to wands with ritualistic magics.
A small box caught his eye, one of the few things his father had experimented with in his later years.
Some of the muggleborn children of nobility had taken to utilizing gloves made with some of the magical cloth of various creatures and marked with ashes worked into them as they were made, leaving them to appear th color of the cloth until used when markings unique to the specific wizard would appear.
In more recent years several of the various hunter mages employed by other countries had found a use for them although the locals rarely had any, viewing them with disdain as something new and preferred the visible displays of the more visible spellcasting.
Of course the gloves had other benefits, namely in that they freed the hands from requiring them to hold onto something.
He brought the box over to the crimson clad boy and started to lay them out only to find the first one working.
"Interesting, very interesting," the wand maker said to himself as his customer left a moment later, "Magical silk and the ash of a Transylvanian vampire."
A moments pause as he replaced the box in its place.
"He will definitely be one to watch."
xXx
An eleven year old dressed in an older style coat and fedora of blood red boarded the Hogwarts express.
Harry wasn't quite sure if he believed the large man about being a wizard, but figured it was worth a glimpse if nothing else.
It was only after the hat was placed upon his head did the faculty begin to think anything was really off about the strange boy dressed in crimson as the Sorting Hat went into hysterics before screaming that the kid could be in any house he chose as long as it never needed to go near him again.
xXx
It had only taken a moment Snape realized, only an instant to realize just how badly he had fucked up.
Potter had come waltzing into his classroom like he owned the place wither the old hat and sunglasses only to take a front row seat.
As the class began he had tried in vain to crack that fanged smile for the first several minutes, only to realize that the damned boy knew the answers to all of the questions he loved to use to destroy the hopes of the youngest Gryffindors.
In a moment of annoyance he had tried to peer into the crimson eyed boys head.
And that is when the situation went straight to hell for the few seconds he saw into it.
He saw a castle on a peak surrounded by what seemed to be a forest.
The scent of freshly spilled as well as older blood mixed with even more foul stenches brushed his senses followed by the screams of the dead and dying merged with begging for mercy and vain threats.
He saw the boy clad in crimson, sitting atop a spire of the gothic fortress' tallest tower sipping casually from a wineglass that held a crimson liquid to viscous to be any wine he knew of.
Severus glanced down from his perch only to realize that the immense forest below was not made of trees as he had first believed. Each of them was a man, woman, or child impaled on a pike, trapped in unending agony at the pleasure of this insane being watching.
He tried not to vomit as his dark eyes glanced up to see the blood moon rising over distant peaks.
Snape screamed as the connection broke, much to the suprise of most of his class.
He felt bile rising in his throat and instant before he threw up into a thankfully empty cauldron and collapsed to his knees.
His mind couldn't comprehend exactly what it was that he had seen and babbled to himself while crawling to a corner.
The initial panic started to die down and he glanced up to see the little horror lower his shades to reveal eyes the color of freshly spilt blood and the demonic smile spread as he held out of of the candies that were seemingly ever present with the madman.
"Bloodpop?"
xXx
The centaurs were confused.
Firenze had reported about his contact with an unusual young human who had engaged in a running battle after a wraith of some sort.
The stars were being even stranger in their clues about Harry Potter.
Jupiter, Mars, and Pluto all bright and seeming to grow stronger in the light of the blood moon.
A combination they had never seen before, a king of death and war while born of blood.
If nothing else, the fate of the boy would be interesting to watch.
xXx
His head was swimming.
Thousands of silvery shards had pierced his body from all directions.
His eyes flashed, the red dimming, changing back the dull emerald as he landed on the floor in a heap.
Blood was pooling around him, inching almost like a fleeing army scattering from a destroyed fortress.
His vision was dimming, and Harry knew it would be over.
The magic that had followed the image it had been forced to take was ending, and taking with it the form he'd taken. Fangs receding as the parasite attached to a human host laughed after the single eerie green spell had flashed across the room.
Harry's magic was strong enough to resist the curse itself, but at the same time the resistance had sent him flying across the chamber to crash through the mirror.
His hand, feeling so cold wrapped aroung the blood red stone through the gloves.
It was powerful, but he would not give it to the sorcerous trash that had raised a wand against him. A fool who reveled in the power, not bothering to learn the true powers that would prove your power.
His mind flashed back to the collapsing room at his Uncle and Aunts with the flashes, a similar death had taken then to the one that was now taking him.
Only he had someone gloating over his broken and battered body.
A decision was made and he slammed the crystalline stone that could grant immortality and wealth beyond the most imaginative wishes to the white marble of the floor.
Voldemort's eyes widened and face paled as he screamed in outrage, raising his wand for another attempt at torturing the boy.
The sound of crystal almost like the sound one would expect from a jar of coins resounded deafeningly in the would be vampires ears.
A crimson spell rocketed towards him as he laughed, the mocking tone he had come to make his own.
And then it was silent.
The dark wizard walked towards the downed boy and his eyes widened again as the crystal shards seemed to reduce themselves to a liquid, merging with the life blood of the boy.
He stepped backwards as the flow of crimson seemed to retreat, returning to the being as some shards seemed through the clothes.
Swirling darkness flooded the room, making it hard to breath as the heir of Salazar Slytherin was sure he could hear the steady beat of a heart that grew louder almost as a drum pounded on parade that was nearing.
Harry's mind remembered being found that day all so long ago as power, unbelievable power, rushed through his veins as liquid fire.
His magic reacted, pushing back into the familiar patterns his body had adapted itself to years before. A swirling stream of blood carried his cloths upwards, rising high while his form disintegrated and then reformed in midair with a blast of raw power that set off what seemed like every single ward up to even Diagon Alley.
People all over the world remembered seeing what looked like droplets of blood stain the moon for the night.
Voldemort was panicking as he watched the mist begin to dissipate to reveal the hellfire eyes of his foe.
Fangs glistened in the dim light that had cut through the devilish fog.
"Beautiful night," Harry seemed to ask himself as his eyes locked with the darkened specter of a wizard, "Isn't it?"
The twin screams of the teacher and the parasite echoed through the ancient halls of the castle.
xXx
Dumbledore and Snape had responded to the tripping of the wards around the philosophers stones hideaway.
The image they had come across was not what they had expected, and one that had the wand Albus Dumbledore falling from a limp had to clatter across the blood stained stones while Severus Snape took three steps backwards.
Quirrel was dead, that much was instantly certain, the silver pike that seemed to come from the stonework itself had penetrated the man to extend the bloody tip high into the air while pointing at the shattered mirror that was now without glass.
The sound of mad laughter reached them from high above, muffled partially by the fortress.
xXx
Atop the tallest tower, Harry Potter laughed at the foolish one who had dared to challenge him.
The wraith had managed to escape him, but it was no matter.
He would face Voldemort once more, let the piece of filth run and plan.
Nothing could stop a true No Life King.
A distant scream alerted him to another problem for him to deal with.
xXx
Hermione Granger had gone from scared to fucking terrified.
The red clad boy had simply stood there, she assumed it was because he was frozen in fear, when he was hit by the massive club of the troll.
Sunken and beady eyes turned towards her once more only for the creature to pause at a loud laugh and a wave of black mist that flooded the room, giving the entire place the stench of freshly spilt blood.
An explosion, no, she corrected herself, a gunshot echoed through the bathroom and the halls as the darkness cleared to reveal the boy standing there.
The tattered school robe fell to reveal the red coat of an almost victorian design and the hat in place upon his head as the being seemed to finish reassembling himself.
"That..." she stammered, searching through all of her knowledge to try and uncover what the hell this maniac was doing only to find nothing to explain it, "That's impossible."
The troll was screaming in pain, collapsing backwards in a heap against the ruined line of sinks with a deafening shriek of pain and outrage as she noticed that the weapon had cleaved the beasts legs off at the knees.
"Stop Whining!" the crimson clad psychotic ordered in an annoyed tone, "All I did was cut off your stupid legs!"
The madman had yet to draw a wand, in fact she couldn't seem to remember him ever using one in class, though she had remembered a notation about a few wizards and witches using gloves instead of wands.
"Come on you worthless piece of garbage!" he snarled, impatience written plainly in his features, "Stand up and come at me! Don't make me waste my entire night"
The troll was panicking now, trying to scramble away from this being that now filled the room with darkness and anger.
"Pick up your club and attack me! Do something!"
The slow clap of footsteps as he walked towards the troll, interrupted her thoughts of which one of the two was the bigger monster.
"Come on, your still moving!" Harry demanded of the thing, "Hurry, hurry, hurry, HURRY!"
When it managed to get back a few steps the boy believing himself to be a No-Life-King sighed and raised his gun one more time and pulled the trigger.
The deafening bang and the feel of warm, black blood splashing across her face sent her screaming once more, the scream covering the bang of the doors opening to allow the teachers entrance to the room.
All of them froze as the boy calmly slipped his weapon back into the shadows of his coat and slip a candy from a pocket to slip into his mouth. A gloved hand holding another out to the professors.
"Bloodpop?"
And then he was gone, after getting no response. The teachers and headmaster frozen in shock at the dead troll and moving unconsciously away from the more dangerous predator.
"It's such a beautiful night," came the chime of his voice, "Don't you agree."
xXx
Note: I'm still filling in the gaps for the year as I work
He remembered the sound of the television being interupted with flashes of multiclored light.
He remembered what had happened, pain everywhere as the black clad crazies with skull white masks attacked the house when he was barely even four years old.
He remembered the feel of hot and sticky splashes of fresh blood as his relatives died, only moments before something structural was hit, bringing the roof down on top of him.
He remembered being trapped for nearly two days amidst the rubble with the corpses of his aunt, uncle, and cousin.
He remembered the miraculously intact and operational television constantly replaying the video.
He remembered the line that had been burned into his brain, "It's a nice night isn't it..."
And the world would never be the same...
xXx
The institute was the first place he remembered after that night, the doctors and nurses were patching the pale boy up from his ordeal.
He clutched a crimson fedora that he had seen in the lost and found box, an item that had been in it for years according to the custodian of the building and had let him keep it.
In the dark his mind tried to mix what had been written into it with what was real, his magic taking what he believed of himself to be real and making it reality.
It was only a day before he was aimed to be discharged to a foster family that the obliviators were forced to come as a Hellhound was apparently there only to see it change back into a small boy with now crimson eyes.
xXx
Harry worked with his powers, trying to return them to what he believed in his now healed head had been their way.
The bullies had not yet learned their lesson as the boy in the hat seemed to dissolve into a black mist and the screams had begun.
xXx
Olivander was starting to worry, he'd never had someone who was seemingly incompatible with every single wand he owned.
He'd started wondering about some of the want alternatives after the brother wand of Voldemort's seemed to set itself alight when the boy had picked it up.
Trying to reaffirm his conviction about having a wand for everyone, he went through the back cabinets to pull out some of the items various wizards had used in place of a wand or staff. Staves were rare mainly because of their size and the difficulty to make the correct motions with them and were also more expensive due to the materials required to make them, as such they were rare. Others had preferred daggers, the metal being another difficult thing to work with though they were far superior to wands with ritualistic magics.
A small box caught his eye, one of the few things his father had experimented with in his later years.
Some of the muggleborn children of nobility had taken to utilizing gloves made with some of the magical cloth of various creatures and marked with ashes worked into them as they were made, leaving them to appear th color of the cloth until used when markings unique to the specific wizard would appear.
In more recent years several of the various hunter mages employed by other countries had found a use for them although the locals rarely had any, viewing them with disdain as something new and preferred the visible displays of the more visible spellcasting.
Of course the gloves had other benefits, namely in that they freed the hands from requiring them to hold onto something.
He brought the box over to the crimson clad boy and started to lay them out only to find the first one working.
"Interesting, very interesting," the wand maker said to himself as his customer left a moment later, "Magical silk and the ash of a Transylvanian vampire."
A moments pause as he replaced the box in its place.
"He will definitely be one to watch."
xXx
An eleven year old dressed in an older style coat and fedora of blood red boarded the Hogwarts express.
Harry wasn't quite sure if he believed the large man about being a wizard, but figured it was worth a glimpse if nothing else.
It was only after the hat was placed upon his head did the faculty begin to think anything was really off about the strange boy dressed in crimson as the Sorting Hat went into hysterics before screaming that the kid could be in any house he chose as long as it never needed to go near him again.
xXx
It had only taken a moment Snape realized, only an instant to realize just how badly he had fucked up.
Potter had come waltzing into his classroom like he owned the place wither the old hat and sunglasses only to take a front row seat.
As the class began he had tried in vain to crack that fanged smile for the first several minutes, only to realize that the damned boy knew the answers to all of the questions he loved to use to destroy the hopes of the youngest Gryffindors.
In a moment of annoyance he had tried to peer into the crimson eyed boys head.
And that is when the situation went straight to hell for the few seconds he saw into it.
He saw a castle on a peak surrounded by what seemed to be a forest.
The scent of freshly spilled as well as older blood mixed with even more foul stenches brushed his senses followed by the screams of the dead and dying merged with begging for mercy and vain threats.
He saw the boy clad in crimson, sitting atop a spire of the gothic fortress' tallest tower sipping casually from a wineglass that held a crimson liquid to viscous to be any wine he knew of.
Severus glanced down from his perch only to realize that the immense forest below was not made of trees as he had first believed. Each of them was a man, woman, or child impaled on a pike, trapped in unending agony at the pleasure of this insane being watching.
He tried not to vomit as his dark eyes glanced up to see the blood moon rising over distant peaks.
Snape screamed as the connection broke, much to the suprise of most of his class.
He felt bile rising in his throat and instant before he threw up into a thankfully empty cauldron and collapsed to his knees.
His mind couldn't comprehend exactly what it was that he had seen and babbled to himself while crawling to a corner.
The initial panic started to die down and he glanced up to see the little horror lower his shades to reveal eyes the color of freshly spilt blood and the demonic smile spread as he held out of of the candies that were seemingly ever present with the madman.
"Bloodpop?"
xXx
The centaurs were confused.
Firenze had reported about his contact with an unusual young human who had engaged in a running battle after a wraith of some sort.
The stars were being even stranger in their clues about Harry Potter.
Jupiter, Mars, and Pluto all bright and seeming to grow stronger in the light of the blood moon.
A combination they had never seen before, a king of death and war while born of blood.
If nothing else, the fate of the boy would be interesting to watch.
xXx
His head was swimming.
Thousands of silvery shards had pierced his body from all directions.
His eyes flashed, the red dimming, changing back the dull emerald as he landed on the floor in a heap.
Blood was pooling around him, inching almost like a fleeing army scattering from a destroyed fortress.
His vision was dimming, and Harry knew it would be over.
The magic that had followed the image it had been forced to take was ending, and taking with it the form he'd taken. Fangs receding as the parasite attached to a human host laughed after the single eerie green spell had flashed across the room.
Harry's magic was strong enough to resist the curse itself, but at the same time the resistance had sent him flying across the chamber to crash through the mirror.
His hand, feeling so cold wrapped aroung the blood red stone through the gloves.
It was powerful, but he would not give it to the sorcerous trash that had raised a wand against him. A fool who reveled in the power, not bothering to learn the true powers that would prove your power.
His mind flashed back to the collapsing room at his Uncle and Aunts with the flashes, a similar death had taken then to the one that was now taking him.
Only he had someone gloating over his broken and battered body.
A decision was made and he slammed the crystalline stone that could grant immortality and wealth beyond the most imaginative wishes to the white marble of the floor.
Voldemort's eyes widened and face paled as he screamed in outrage, raising his wand for another attempt at torturing the boy.
The sound of crystal almost like the sound one would expect from a jar of coins resounded deafeningly in the would be vampires ears.
A crimson spell rocketed towards him as he laughed, the mocking tone he had come to make his own.
And then it was silent.
The dark wizard walked towards the downed boy and his eyes widened again as the crystal shards seemed to reduce themselves to a liquid, merging with the life blood of the boy.
He stepped backwards as the flow of crimson seemed to retreat, returning to the being as some shards seemed through the clothes.
Swirling darkness flooded the room, making it hard to breath as the heir of Salazar Slytherin was sure he could hear the steady beat of a heart that grew louder almost as a drum pounded on parade that was nearing.
Harry's mind remembered being found that day all so long ago as power, unbelievable power, rushed through his veins as liquid fire.
His magic reacted, pushing back into the familiar patterns his body had adapted itself to years before. A swirling stream of blood carried his cloths upwards, rising high while his form disintegrated and then reformed in midair with a blast of raw power that set off what seemed like every single ward up to even Diagon Alley.
People all over the world remembered seeing what looked like droplets of blood stain the moon for the night.
Voldemort was panicking as he watched the mist begin to dissipate to reveal the hellfire eyes of his foe.
Fangs glistened in the dim light that had cut through the devilish fog.
"Beautiful night," Harry seemed to ask himself as his eyes locked with the darkened specter of a wizard, "Isn't it?"
The twin screams of the teacher and the parasite echoed through the ancient halls of the castle.
xXx
Dumbledore and Snape had responded to the tripping of the wards around the philosophers stones hideaway.
The image they had come across was not what they had expected, and one that had the wand Albus Dumbledore falling from a limp had to clatter across the blood stained stones while Severus Snape took three steps backwards.
Quirrel was dead, that much was instantly certain, the silver pike that seemed to come from the stonework itself had penetrated the man to extend the bloody tip high into the air while pointing at the shattered mirror that was now without glass.
The sound of mad laughter reached them from high above, muffled partially by the fortress.
xXx
Atop the tallest tower, Harry Potter laughed at the foolish one who had dared to challenge him.
The wraith had managed to escape him, but it was no matter.
He would face Voldemort once more, let the piece of filth run and plan.
Nothing could stop a true No Life King.
A distant scream alerted him to another problem for him to deal with.
xXx
Hermione Granger had gone from scared to fucking terrified.
The red clad boy had simply stood there, she assumed it was because he was frozen in fear, when he was hit by the massive club of the troll.
Sunken and beady eyes turned towards her once more only for the creature to pause at a loud laugh and a wave of black mist that flooded the room, giving the entire place the stench of freshly spilt blood.
An explosion, no, she corrected herself, a gunshot echoed through the bathroom and the halls as the darkness cleared to reveal the boy standing there.
The tattered school robe fell to reveal the red coat of an almost victorian design and the hat in place upon his head as the being seemed to finish reassembling himself.
"That..." she stammered, searching through all of her knowledge to try and uncover what the hell this maniac was doing only to find nothing to explain it, "That's impossible."
The troll was screaming in pain, collapsing backwards in a heap against the ruined line of sinks with a deafening shriek of pain and outrage as she noticed that the weapon had cleaved the beasts legs off at the knees.
"Stop Whining!" the crimson clad psychotic ordered in an annoyed tone, "All I did was cut off your stupid legs!"
The madman had yet to draw a wand, in fact she couldn't seem to remember him ever using one in class, though she had remembered a notation about a few wizards and witches using gloves instead of wands.
"Come on you worthless piece of garbage!" he snarled, impatience written plainly in his features, "Stand up and come at me! Don't make me waste my entire night"
The troll was panicking now, trying to scramble away from this being that now filled the room with darkness and anger.
"Pick up your club and attack me! Do something!"
The slow clap of footsteps as he walked towards the troll, interrupted her thoughts of which one of the two was the bigger monster.
"Come on, your still moving!" Harry demanded of the thing, "Hurry, hurry, hurry, HURRY!"
When it managed to get back a few steps the boy believing himself to be a No-Life-King sighed and raised his gun one more time and pulled the trigger.
The deafening bang and the feel of warm, black blood splashing across her face sent her screaming once more, the scream covering the bang of the doors opening to allow the teachers entrance to the room.
All of them froze as the boy calmly slipped his weapon back into the shadows of his coat and slip a candy from a pocket to slip into his mouth. A gloved hand holding another out to the professors.
"Bloodpop?"
And then he was gone, after getting no response. The teachers and headmaster frozen in shock at the dead troll and moving unconsciously away from the more dangerous predator.
"It's such a beautiful night," came the chime of his voice, "Don't you agree."
xXx
Note: I'm still filling in the gaps for the year as I work
:evil2: I can't wait to see just how fucked up the rest of his classmates will be at the end of his first year, let alone his seventh. :snigger: keep up the good work.