414Alright, here's a new story I wanna try out. Got plot bunnys running around my head, so gonna get them onto paper, and see what comes of it. In a similar vein as Fear the Coming Darkness, this story follows a dark and evil Harry Potter. I'll list out Cliches, and pairings so you all know what to expect, or if you wanna skip that, the summary is below. Just writing this on a whim, while I work on the next chapter of Darkness Reborn. Hoping to have another chapter for that out soonish, so any crossover fans, hope you're excited for that. This story is gonna be pretty wild for Harry. He's gonna go through some major shit, as you'll see. Also gonna have some crossover between Harry Potter, and Warhammer, with touches of Diablo as well and maybe some Dark Souls/Demon Souls/Bloodborne/Elden Ring, as well as some other fantasy elements. This story might evolve into a more direct crossover as time goes on but we'll see how things go, as I said I just started writing this to get the plot bunnies out of my head and onto paper.
Pairings: Harry/DaphneGreengrass/TracyDavis/LunaLovegood/FleurDelacour/?
Cliches: Lots of Weasley Bashing/Hermione Bashing/Neville Bashing/Dumbledore Bashing/Potter Bashing. WBWL. GodlikeMC
Warnings: Language/Gore/Torture/Dark Themes and situations/Lemons/Limes/Incest/mentions and depictions of sexual assault/rape.
Summary: What happens when you unite the greatest powers the world has ever known? What happens when the one who was heralded as Destiny's champion turns out to be living a lie? What happens when that child is taken, tortured, and transformed through nightmarish rituals? What is to become of a boy, turned into something else, who's had everything taken from him. His life, his purpose, his whole existence. Magic and Death, Chaos and Control, power unimaginable. Held in the grips of one, who's destiny was stolen from him, how will the world face true darkness. The Boy-Who-Lived, was a lie. The Man-Who-Conquered, a dream. When the Truth is revealed, how will the Master of Death, the Scion of Chaos react?
Chaos Born: Destiny Undone
Chapter 1: Suffering
Harry Potter walked along the edges of the park, his mind in a whirl of anticipation. He'd received an invitation to spend the days before the start of his fourth year with the Weasleys. They'd invited him to join them at the Quidditch World Cup, thanks to tickets that Arthur Weasley had won.
The chance to get away from his summer prison a few days early was like a breath of fresh air. The longer this dragged on, the more the threats of his murderous godfather seemed to diminish in the eyes of his owe-so-beloved family members. His aunt and uncle were dying to get him out of there, and Dudley and his gang of misfits were growing ever more arrogant in their attempts to corner and harass him. He still had two weeks to go until the Weasleys would come and get him, so he'd have to endure his vile relatives until then.
He had already felt the sting of their abuse, and he had no illusions of things improving. It seemed that with each passing year, their hatred for him continued to grow.
He hated this place, he absolutely hated it. There were times where he'd sit awake in bed, wondering what he'd ever done to deserve such torment. His aunt and uncle had never shown him even an ounce of care, and in truth, had actually aided in his torment. He had been provided the bare essentials his entire life, spending most of that life, locked in a cupboard under the stairs, half-starved. If it wasn't for the discovery that he could be used as manual labor, Harry doubted he'd have ever been freed from that nightmare. And of course, the only reason he was fed after that, was because Petunia didn't want the neighbors asking questions about the malnourished child tending to her rose bushes. If they could have gotten away with continuing to starve him, they would have.
Even the room he had now, was an atrocity. It was dark, and dreadful. The lights in it had gone out a long time ago, and the Dursleys had never replaced them. They also let Dudley get away with whatever pranks he felt like, even if they did harm to their property.
More than once Harry had arrived home and sat in bed, only to find it wet with an unknown substance. Given the smell though, Harry could make a guess as to what it was. Harry couldn't even take a shower will Dudley home, as on pretty much every occasion the boy would flush the toilet just to send burning hot water cascading over Harry.
He absolutely hated it here. The chance to escape this place, even a moment earlier than previously planned, was the best news he could think of. He just had to survive a few more days, and try not to lose his temper. If he didn't draw attention to his own existence and avoided Dudley and his gang, than it shouldn't be that hard.
"Would you look at that?" Came the sound of a familiar voice.
Harry recognized it instantly, and felt himself let out a groan.
Dudley and three of his delinquent friends stood in his path.
"I don't want any trouble." Harry let out a tired, aggravated sigh.
"Did you hear that? The freak doesn't want any trouble. I hear you'll be leaving us again soon." Dudley stated, smirking as he did.
"Yeah, two more weeks, and I'll be out of your hair until next summer." Harry replied, hoping that Dudley planned on leaving him with a bit of harassment, and that was it.
"Oh, well that's good. Though me and a couple of the guys were talking, and we realized that you hadn't taken a bath in a while, so we thought we'd give you one, before you left." Dudley stated, earning confusion from Harry.
Dudley than nodded to the right, and Harry glanced in that direction. Off to his side was a small muddy stream, with only a few inches of water flowing through it. Internally, Harry let out another groan. He knew without a doubt that if he ended up in there, he wasn't just going to be wet, he'd be doused in mud. So much mud in fact, that he doubted his aunt would allow him within a hundred yards of her house.
"Dudl-" Harry started to say, but the four boys bolted at him, and Harry turned to run. They were taller than he was, so they closed the gap on him before he could make it very far.
The boys wrestled him to the ground, as Harry thrashed and struggled against them.
He could hear their uproarious laughter as his glasses fell away from his face and his vision went blurry.
He was about to offer a halfhearted prayer that he'd be able to recover his glasses once he got out of the mud, but that idea died almost before it was fully formed by the loud sound of crunching glass inches in front of his face.
His tormentors paid no mind to the destruction of his glasses. Harry felt his temper flair as their laughter increased.
He struggled against them as he was lifted into the air. Their laughter kept growing, and so did Harry's anger as he felt himself nearing that muddy stream.
Finally, he twisted and kicked with his left leg, striking one of the boys in the face.
He heard a shout as the remaining trio dropped him, causing Harry to land on his back, and roll down into the muddy water.
He quickly sat up, his back and head caked in mud. He couldn't make out the figure of the four boys above him, but he could hear them shouting in panic.
They were saying Dudley's name, and the moment Harry heard it, his blood ran cold and his gut sank.
Whatever elation he may have felt at striking back at his tormentor, instantly vanished when he realized what would happen now.
He knew the second that he made it back to Number four, he'd be catching every part of Vernon's hand.
A whooping, the likes of which he'd never known, lay in his future.
He heard the four scrambling away, leaving Harry alone in the muddy creek. He didn't know how bad Dudley's injury had been, but it didn't matter. One hair out of place, was all it would take to guarantee his fate.
Slowly, Harry crawled out of the stream, and tried to get his bearings.
He could barely make out anything around him. Every year his vision seemed to get poorer. Without his glasses he couldn't see more than ten feet in front of himself. Having heard his glasses break, Harry didn't waste any time in finding them. He'd just have to buy a new pair in Diagon Alley, once he went to the Weasleys. The only question was, how did he survive until then?
He couldn't go back to his Aunt and Uncles house. He knew he was as good as dead if he went there. He'd hurt their precious boy, and they'd accept no excuse or reasoning. If he went there, he was going to face the worst kind of hell they could put him through until the Weasleys came to get him.
Still though, what other alternative was there? Harry was basically blind without his glasses. He also didn't have his wand or any of his things. If he waited too long his beloved relatives would surely destroy every ounce of his property. His wand, his cloak, his photo album… all of them were precious to him. Letting out a huff, he began to trudge in the direction of his home.
Despite knowing the fate that awaited him there, he had no other choice. He had no money on his person, so he'd need to gather what little he had in his room so that he could call the Knight bus to take him to the Leaky Cauldron.
Hopefully the Dursleys would panic and take Dudley to the hospital, allowing Harry the chance to get in, grab his stuff and leave while they were away.
It was a fool's hope, he knew, but he had no other choice.
Even without his glasses, Harry had an easy time finding his way home. He usually walked with his head down, lost in his thoughts, so only seeing the few feet of sidewalk beneath him was all he really needed to navigate.
His hope, as he expected, had indeed proven false. His ears rang from the beating he got from Vernon. Powerful slaps to either side of his head and a punch to the stomach. His mind was in a whirlwind until he felt himself being tossed out onto the sidewalk. A few moments later his trunk landed heavily on his back, causing him to scream out in pain.
"YOU STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM HERE YOU WRETCHED FREAK! IF I EVER SEE YOU AROUND HERE AGAIN THERE WILL BE HELL TO PAY! TELL THOSE VILE FREAKISH FRIENDS OF YOURS THAT YOU'RE NEVER ALLOWED BACK!" Vernon shouted at him, as Harry rolled over, and tried to glare through blurry eyes. His response was a kick to the ribs which knocked the wind out of him.
He heard the door slam behind him, as he laid there wheezing. As expected, no one came to check on him, no neighbors came to see if he was alright. The block was silent. Not even Mrs. Figg from across the street had come to see if he was still breathing.
"To hell with this…!" Harry growled internally as he pulled himself to his feet. He quickly set his trunk upright and opened it. He fished out his wand, and his money pouch before sealing it shut.
Thankfully the Dursleys forced him to lock all of his magical belongings in his trunk at the start of summer, otherwise he doubted that Vernon would let him gather all of his things.
He was also moderately thankful that Petunia wasn't here. It seems that she had taken Dudley to the hospital while Vernon had stayed behind to wait for Harry.
At least he'd been spared her unrelenting screeching. That was a small mercy if ever he'd had one.
Slowly, painfully, he dragged his trunk down to the street.
Harry reached into his pocket, feeling for his money bag. He quickly fetched the necessary funds he'd need. Namely the money was for the knight bus, which Harry had stumbled upon last year. Now that he knew how to summon it, and what it cost to go from Surrey to the Leaky Cauldron, he could call upon it if he needed it.
So with that in mind, he then held up his wand hand, as if signaling for a bus, and waited.
A few moments passed, then another, then a rushing sound and suddenly, something giant filled his view, and Harry heard a door swing open.
"Well hello there, long time no see. Looking for a ride?" Came the voice of the bus driver.
"Yeah. To the Leaky Cauldron." Harry responded as he handed over the required eleven sickles needed for a ride.
"One ticket to the Leaky Cauldron. Have a seat and we'll be there in a flash." The driver offered cheerfully, not noticing or not caring that Harry was still covered in mud, and fresh blood was leaking from a scrape on his cheek where his face had hit the sidewalk when Vernon tossed him out.
Harry quickly found a seat, just as the bus sped off. Thankfully, unlike the last time he'd endured this ride, he managed to get himself planted before the bus took off.
He was spared being thrown every which way, and they arrived at their destination in what felt like only a few moments.
Harry and several others filed off of the bus, and Harry quickly entered into the Leaky Cauldron, dragging his trunk behind him.
Harry approached the bar, and waited to hear from the friendly barkeep Tom.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Harry Potter, come to grace us with his presence? What can I do for ya lad?" Tom asked once he took notice of Harry. Tom made a face at the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived doused in mud, and he could just barely see the red glinting on his face in the dim light of the bar.
"Sorry sir, I was wondering if you knew where I can buy a new pair of glasses in Diagon Alley. I seem to have lost mine. Also, could I get a room, possibly one with a bath?" Harry asked, not mentioning his injuries.
Tom blinked a few times as he took in Harry's appearance, he then offered a nod. "Hmm… you might find you a new pair as Tiny Tim's wondrous ocular enhancements. You go in, take your third right, and keep going 'till you see the red and blue sign. Should be the twelfth shop on your left. Otherwise, I've got a room for ya, it's number five. That'll be eighty-two sickles a night."
Harry nodded at that, and handed over the money. Tom led him to the room, where Harry placed his trunk before heading over to the entrance of Diagon Alley. He knew that he'd need to find new glasses first and foremost, than he could worry about other things. He was unaware, as he made his way to the entrance that he was being followed. He passed into the Alley and proceeded into it's recesses, trying his best to navigate with his limited field of vision.
Harry tried to follow directions, counting out the streets, to make sure he went down the right one, more than a few times he had to stop and reorient himself. He knew his vision was getting bad, but on multiple occasions things seemed to shift, and he found it near impossible to make out his surroundings.
His frustration grew as he made his way down what he thought was the correct street, passing by many witches and wizards as they went about their day. He kept his eyes peeled, looking for a red and blue sign on the left. Once more he counted them off, and to his frustration, couldn't make out any red or blue sign anywhere.
Harry let out an angry sign, and proceeded further down the road. He passed by several signs, but he couldn't really read them unless they were on ground level.
Harry was busy squinting at a sign when he heard someone speak to him.
"Hey kid, you seem lost." A man's voice noted.
"What? Yeah. I'm looking for Tiny Tim's Wondrous Ocular Enhancements. I thought it was on this street." Harry replied looking in the direction of the voice, as the man approached.
"Nope wrong street. It's one over. Here, you can cross over through here instead of going all the way around. It's two doors down on your right." The man offered in a good-natured way.
Harry could just barely make out the man, he seemed older, in his thirties of forties. A bit of dark hair framed his face. He wore a bowler hat, and wore a long coat, though Harry couldn't really make out any finer details.
"Thanks for your help." Harry offered the man, as he proceeded towards the alley between two of the shops. He knew these streets were well traveled, and Harry was eager to get a new pair of glasses so he could see again. Being able to see would elevate his situation immensely. Once he could see, he could focus on getting money from his vault so that he could afford to stay at the Leaky Cauldron until the Weasleys came to get him.
While Harry was focused on what he would do once he could see again. He barely caught the man's reply. "No problem, mister potter."
Harry made it a few more strides before that registered, and for a half moment, he panicked, wondering how the unknown man knew who he was. His panic quickly faded though as he remembered he was one of the most famous people alive, according to Ron. People often recognized him due to his scar, and his appearance.
With that rationalization, he started to calm down.
It was in that moment he began to move forward again, passing by an alcove. As he did, a shadow emerged, and with a quick movement, Harry felt a sheering pain pass through his legs.
He dropped, as all of the strength left him.
A hand, adorned with long, bony fingers, clasped around his mouth keeping him from screaming.
"I can't believe you fell for that. Little Harry Potter. You know how long we've been waiting for this day. For our revenge." A raspy, sickly voice spoke into Harry's ear.
Harry was gasping now. He felt blood pouring out of his legs. He didn't know what had been done to them, but he couldn't feel anything below the knee other than sheering pain.
"Don't waste time! Knock him out and let's go!" The voice of the man who'd directed Harry down this way spoke, coming up behind the man who was holding Harry in place.
"Right, I really wish we could keep you ourselves, but this… this is far more in line with what you deserve. I know the old hag is gonna treat you right. You ready Nott?" The voice asked.
"Absolutely." His companion spoke.
Harry felt himself thrown into the alcove where his assailant had originally been hidden. He let out a cry of pain, as a realization washed over him. He was dead. He was dead. In this moment, right here, right now, in this fucking alleyway, in the middle of the goddamn day, he was about to be murdered.
For a half second, he wished for someone to save him. Someone, anyone at all. A part of him hoped he'd hear Padfoot snarl from the darkness and come barreling out to rescue him. He would have accepted anything at that point, but nothing came.
He heard two voices simultaneously intone, "Stupefy!"
Two blazing lights filled the air, and suddenly, everything went dark.
The Boy-Who-Lived, lay motionless in the darkness of that alley. His assailants stood over him with cruel grins. Proud as they could possibly be. They had had their vengeance. The so-called 'Hero' who had destroyed their lord, would soon be dead. Then they'd be heroes. Laughing to themselves with all the merriment they could muster, they grabbed the unconscious boy and Apparated out of the alleyway.
Harry awoke some time later, a blazing pain filled every ounce of his body. He tried to sit up, but found his arms and legs bound. He tried to look around, but his vision was still blurred. He was tied down to something, a table of some sort. His hands and feet were bound, and there were straps across his stomach and chest.
He felt cool air licking at his body, and it quickly dawned on him that he was completely naked.
"I'm still alive!" Harry realized as his horror began to grow.
"Take good care of him. Maybe you'll get lucky, and he'll help you find a breakthrough in your research." Came the voice of the man in the bowler hat. Harry could hear him somewhere nearby. In another room, adjacent to the one he was in.
"Bull! You never showed any interest in my work before Lord Nott. You're only here because you hope that he'll meet as gruesome an end as all of my other experiments." Came the voice of a woman.
"True." Nott responded, earning a rueful chuckle from the woman.
"We want him to suffer. You are going to make him suffer. If, in his death, he provides you with answers, than maybe we use those answers to help revive our lord. If not… Potter will still be dead…" Nott stated after a moment.
"Fine. I'll accept your gift, for what it's worth. Perhaps there is something special about the Boy-Who-Lived, that may aid me in my studies. I doubt it, but at least, I'll get the chance to study him. Go on now, I have work to do, and daylight to burn." The woman commanded in a tone that allowed for no argument.
"As you wish. We will return to see the results of your work in a day or two. I hope you do not disappoint us." Nott stated.
"I wont, I can promise you that. He'll live for as long as his body holds out, but just like the rest, he'll soon be dead." The woman replied with cold assurance.
A few moments passed and Harry heard the man leave along with someone else, most likely his accomplice. A few seconds went by when the woman entered.
Harry could barely make her out as she strolled into the room and stood over him.
"Please… help me!" Harry uttered.
"Oh but mister Potter… I need you to help me first. You have been provided to me as a means to aid in my research. My aim being to find a way to replicate the powers of the legendary Chimera. If… by chance, you prove a benefit to my work, than perhaps I may free you." The woman spoke, her tone painted her as an older woman, sounding almost like Petunia.
Harry blinked up at her blurry face, not quite understanding what she was talking about.
A few seconds passed before she turned and headed from the room.
She returned a few minutes later, followed by two House Elves.
"Let's begin." He heard the woman speak, and from there she began to cast spells.
Most spells Harry didn't recognize, and over the course of the next few hours, she and her two assistants set about preparing him for whatever ritual she intended on performing on him.
She no longer spoke to him, ignoring all of his protests and his cries for help.
The elves would occasionally come forward and cut his hands with sharp knives draining his blood into bowls that they would use to draw runes and markings onto the ground around the table.
A few times, he would be force fed some vile potion, which was kept down with some kind of magic no matter how hard he struggled or gagged.
Several hours of this torture passed before the woman was finished setting up the ritual.
For a moment, Harry thought he might have a reprieve, but then she began chanting, and Harry felt his skin began to tingle. The air filled with magic, and he knew she was far from finished with him.
With the ritual activated, that's when the nightmare truly began. The two elves rolled in a large cart, covered in containers filled with an unknown liquid and preserved body parts. Harry couldn't make out what was within the container but he wasn't left to wonder for long when one of the elves addressed the contents on the cart as 'organic samples'.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked with fear and terror in his voice.
The woman said nothing. She merely brought one of the containers over to him, and set it beside the table on another smaller table. She then hovered over him for a moment, before pointing her wand at his arm.
Harry didn't hear her cast a spell, but he felt his arm go numb at the shoulder. He then felt a dull pain burn through him, and then something levitated over him, and into her arms.
His breathing began to pick up as a few warm drops fell from the object onto his chest. It quickly dawned on him.
'My arm…' She had just cut off his arm.
Harry began screaming, soon though, his screams were silenced, as the woman used her magic to prevent him from making a sound. Even as his mouth hung open, his eyes wide in terror, he could do nothing as the woman continued her work.
Something was taken out of the large container she had brought over to his side, and she carried it around him and placed it by where his left arm had been.
Slowly she worked her magic, and the dull burning pain in his shoulder quickly melted away into a blazing agony. It was a pain far worse than anything he'd ever felt before.
Soon he had passed out. His body going limp as he was overwhelmed by the sensation.
He was awoken when a numbness washed over him, he opened his eyes to find the woman standing over him. Her hands were digging inside his belly. The moment he realized that he could feel her hands inside of him, he passed out again.
He awoke again, to a blazing pain in his right arm and across the right side of his body. It felt like his arm was encased in a block of ice. He felt so cold that he couldn't help but scream again.
"Silence, you rowdy boy!" The woman snapped at him, silencing him once again.
He felt his vision blur, as the sounds of a woman's screams filled his ears. "Please… Don't hurt them!"
Harry was unconscious yet again.
He was awakened once more by a spell. The woman was standing over him.
"Potter!" She snapped, causing his to begin to hyperventilate as he stared up in horror.
"Do that again!" She commanded and then looked down.
He just stared up at her, trying desperately to escape her, pulling and twisting but he was unable to move.
"Morgana's cunt…" The woman gasped out in amazement.
"Can you feel them Potter? Your arms! Tell me! Can you feel them?!" The woman grabbed his face, bringing her gaze close to his.
"Please! The pain!?" Harry gasped.
"You feel pain through them? Wonderful!" The woman pulled back with a cheer. "This is wonderful! Let's continue. I need to see how far I can take this! Write everything down!" She commanded her Elves.
Harry was lost once more, his screams filling the air, as his darkest memories began to play before his eyes. All around him, was the Chamber of Secrets and hovering over him was the grinning visage of Tom Riddle.
Harry could do nothing but scream as Riddle's face was replaced with the murderous eyes of the Basilisk.
Mercifully, the woman stunned him.
He awoke again, the unimaginable pain of every cell in his body, feeling like it was exploding.
He couldn't scream anymore. He didn't remember when, but a gag had been placed in his mouth.
"This isn't the same reaction as last time. This is different. What's causing this new form of pain? I wonder…" He heard the woman speak before he once more lost consciousness.
This time, the blackness was paired with memories of his life, his loneliness mostly. Every horrible memory seemed to flash before his eyes. Though he did not awaken again, he felt a searing pain in his head this time. Then the feeling of something moving inside his brain.
He felt the movement clawing inside his head, and with each of it's movements, his most awful memories came rushing back to the surface. Those memories quickly became sensations, and those sensations were felt with perfect clarity. If he'd been able to scream, he would have. He felt the movement burrowing deeper, and deeper, until it was in the center of his brain. Suddenly, he felt the movement seize, and spasm, like it was shaking in his head. At once every feeling imaginable rocketed through his body.
Pain and pleasure, felt to the extreme. Happiness and sadness, misery and joy. He felt every sensation imaginable in the span of a single moment. It was then that the movement in his brain seized and then stopped.
In a moment, without truly grasping what had happened, he knew that whatever had been put into his head, had died.
The last ounce of feeling he had, was a burning sensation within his scar, before once more the darkness took him.
"This is fantastic… he's still alive… I never believed any of that nonsense about you. I never thought you were more than a boy… I was wrong. I see now why it was you who destroyed Lord Voldemort. I understand now… you're special. Thanks to you… I have almost all of the answers I need. Just a few more steps, Potter. Just a few more, and I'll have all I need. Thanks to you, the Dark Lord will rise again, and this time… no one will be able to stand against him." The woman's voice spoke in his ear.
Harry could do nothing but lay there. No longer could he scream, all he felt was pain.
He couldn't tell just how much of him she'd torn away and replaced with her vile sorcery. His arms… something in his belly, his groin, his throat, his right eye was now covered up. Now she had drawn a knife, and was beginning to peel the skin off of his body.
Harry felt tears spill from his eyes, as once more, the pain took him into the hellish blackness.
He awoke for what he prayed was the final time.
He could hear excited chatter, coming from the other room.
"He's supposed to be dead woman!" Came a shout.
"Oh he will be, but not before I've finished my research. I thought maybe, he'd help me with one transfusion. Maybe one alteration before his body began to degrade and break down due to magical backlash. But no! He's still alive, even after everything. It all works. I'm sure the pain is excruciating, but it works! All I need to do is find a way to remove the pain, and I'll have a means of creating a being more powerful than anything this world has ever known!" The woman spoke in excitement.
"And you did that all to Harry Fucking Potter? Are you out of your mind?" Came another male voice.
"Quick your worrying. With the amount of pain he's in, he can't remain awake for more than a few moments. He'll die soon enough. I just need a few more days." She stated.
"You've had over two weeks. Tomorrow, I'll be joining the others at the Quidditch World Cup. Afterwards, I'm bringing them all here, and we're going to watch him die, is that understood? You have until tomorrow night… then Potter is dead!" The man in the Bowler hat declared.
"Fine! Twenty-four hours. Get out now, I've got work to do." The woman responded with a snarl.
"One… more… day…" Harry thought to himself as the pain began to take him again, just as the woman walked back into the room.
"You can't die just yet Potter… there's one more thing I have to try." He heard the woman's cruel, malicious voice say. He could hardly feel anything anymore. The pain had long fled his body, yet even still, he felt the tip of the knife, as it pierced into his skin. A burning pain dug into his palms as she carefully guided the blade through his flesh.
It was rough, and difficult, and seemed to go on for hours. She worked on one hand, than the other, and then she moved back to the left, working on the forearm, and than the fourth mark was carved onto his shoulder. Finally she worked on the center of his chest, carving something largely across it's center.
All of this took a great deal of time, and Harry was left to only speculate as to what she was doing. He was numb to most of it, untouched by the pain of her lacerations.
"I have to know. I must know if it'll work. Before you die Potter, you will tell me." He heard her whisper into his ear.
Then he felt her pull away, heard her stand over him and begin to chant. The air filled with an unusual pressure and despite the numbness that had overtaken him, he was distinctly aware of a number of presences that filled the room.
He felt them begin to approach him, whatever they were, seemingly dissolving into him from all around him. His body was overcome by pain. The numbness vanished, and he began to scream. He felt something burning though his flesh and his blood. He felt like bolts of lightning were arcing in his brain. He was screaming now, his pain reaching heights he could never have imagined.
He felt multiple otherworldly wills clash within him. Roaring and screaming and hissing filled his ears. He felt his skin churn and bulge, felt his bones, twist and reshape. It felt like he was being pulled apart from the inside.
Organs moved as if they had a mind of their own, it was like his whole body was being controlled by some alien force that was in contest with itself. It was like something was fighting inside of him, like a battle was taking place, and every part of his body, every cell, every organ, every inch of flesh and bone, was the battleground.
He continued to scream as something began to tear through his memories. He saw his life flash before his eyes, far too quickly for him to recognize any of it. He saw images that made no sense to his mind. An orphanage, a seaside cave, the murder of a boy, all gone by too quickly for him to linger on.
Emotions tore through him, emotions that both came from him, and did not. He felt hate, and rage like a fire burning through his body. He felt sickness, like a fast acting plague, his skin bubbling and undulating. He felt magic, crackling and arcing through the air, an unseen wind brushed at his ears, so loud and ferocious that it felt like a storm raged around him. And finally he felt incredible pleasure, despite the pain, despite the agony that he was enduring, all of it, every single moment of it, somehow felt rapturous, orgasmic even.
Even as he screamed, he felt himself climax, his mind filling with thoughts of girls, images of the beauties that he knew from school. It was a momentary solace in the hellfire of agony, yet even that was turned into a nightmare as these images twisted into scenes of violence and rape.
He felt the pleasure fade, as a soothing numbness was forced upon him. Despite remaining firmly bound, it felt as if something had taken him into it's bosom, and held him there, comforting him and keeping him safe. For a moment, he was without pain, for a moment, he was without fear. For just the briefest of moments, he almost felt safe.
That too was snatched away, this time violently as images of his assailants filled his mind. Those that had kidnapped him, the woman who tortured him, their faces flooded his mind, and he felt his rage and anger overtake him. In his minds eye he could see himself tearing them apart with his bare hands. He could feel their blood spray across his face, feel it coat his hands, yet he felt no guilt or remorse, only satisfaction, though that satisfaction quickly evolved into a sexual gratification, which was seemingly snatched away even as he felt himself climax again.
As all of this happened, over the span of many minutes, he felt whatever was within his mind continuing it's movements, continuing it's examination of his memories.
While three separate entities fought for dominance within his body, the fourth was more interested with studying him, learning about him.
For minutes, Harry was ravaged by these entities. He was forced between feelings of rage, and pleasure, only separated by a comforting numbness that he consciously welcomed whenever it pressed forward. Yet even though he consciously wanted the quiet numbness, his subconscious screamed for revenge, and for release of all of his pent of emotions. Whenever the images of violence filled his mind, he was left horrified by his reaction. His gratification from murdering his assailants, his pleasure at the sight of their death, back and forth he was pulled, as one entity fought for pride, and one for pleasure, using his hatred towards his assailants as a vector.
"So… lovely…" He heard a voice whisper into his mind, and like that, it all stopped.
It came in a sudden moment, like a realization having struck the other three entities. The fourth was laughing now, laughing as it began to diffuse and breakdown, it's essence being forcefully bonded with Harry's body. The other three panicked in confusion before one seemed to settle, and accept what was coming. It went next, breaking apart and fusing with him. The remaining two were in a panic, pulling away, trying to escape, but they too began to dissolve, breaking apart and fusing with Harry's body. Both vanishing in otherworldy screams of terror.
Whatever ritual the woman had been using to fuse the unnatural body parts to his body, had also been used on these entities. Much like a stolen limb, these creatures were placed inside of him, and forcefully fused to him.
Harry felt all four dissolve into his magic, moments before he slipped into darkness once more. The final thing he heard was his torturer cheering in amazement and astonishment at her success.
"One… More… Day…" Harry faded out of reality.
It was later when his consciousness partly returned. He could hear them. Hear their jeering voices. They were calling for him to wake up. Demanding it. They used spells, but it didn't work. They tried hitting him, but it didn't work. He knew who they were, without even opening his eyes. He knew who each one was despite not seeing them, or clearly hearing their voices.
The most noteworthy… his main assailants, the men who helped bring him here. Both were purebloods. Death Eaters. One was just a thug, Charles Crakeley. The man in the bowler hat was Theodore Nott Sr.
The others… just names. Names of people that Harry didn't know, yet he knew their names. It was a surreal feeling. He could feel their hate, hear their rage, echoed like screams in his mind.
He pondered it, his whole body numb. Numb to their threats, numb to their attacks. Numb to all of it.
They were attacking him, blasting his body with their spells, some cheered in astonishment and amazement others hurled vile insults at him as his wounds rapidly healed. He felt none of this pain, the comforting numbness that he had yearned for, for days, had consumed him. Even as they tore at his body, and stabbed at it, even as he was ripped open, he felt nothing.
Finally he heard those words. "Avada Kadavra."
And like that, darkness claimed him.
He was finally free.
-To Be Continued-
Alright guys and girls, there's my first chapter of this new story. I got a few more coming here in a bit, just wanted to get this first part out and see what you all think. This is gonna be a very dark and disturbing story, following a character of vile evil, I hope you all enjoy and I can't wait to hear your feedback.