Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.

Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.

Note 1: AU.


chapter one

Through his emerald magic, he could kill, he could add to his already long life by comsuming the lifeforces of others, he could add to his already large store of replenishing magic by comsuming he spirit of others, he could add to his already Library of Alexandria like intellect, knowledge, and wisdom, by assimilating portions of the souls of others. He had been betrayed by life, and due to such betrayal he had in turn turned his back on life.

His emerald flames the flames of death had granted him the ability to kill, and by killing he himself could live. This power had also granted him the ability to perform soul magics, ones which even the darkest of modern wizards dared not even dream of. It was at such a level that horcruxes looked like child's play, and considering that Tom Riddle had made his very first one as an underage wizard, it really was child's play.

Through is crimson magic he could take revenge deal out as much and even more pain and suffering thna he had received during his formative years while under the care of his late relatives, put to death by him. His crimson magic could deal out pain as a form of torture, while at the same time could be used to make reflexes faster, get the heart pumping blood faster, cause the messages from the brain to travel to and fro at two to five times their normal speed. The threshold of pain could be upgraded, causing the tolerance for pain to be upgraded as well. Pain receptors could even be nulled, destroyed even, causing those without them to feel no pain, but could still feel other things, they would not lose their sense of touch, only their ability to feel pain.

The crimson flames could affect plant life in such a way that they would mutate plant life into two forms, thorny bushes or trees with thorns, both versions bearing poisonous red fruit. Both versions also gaining more humanoid features. Roots taking the forms of humans, and trees gaining the haunted tree look, but actually able to move about as they wished. The plants born of the seeds of the fruits gained something else, they gained a soul, filtered excess from Harry's own, creating new sentient life, while nature had her nymphs, her spirits of life. Harry on the other hand had accidentally created Death Nymphs, a new brand of spirit, a new brand of protector, defender, and warrior. Nymphs being caretakers, nurturers, and healers. The crimson magic, the cromson flames, also had the effect of making Harry immune to fire, as well as giving him the ability to in a small way manipulate fire, not magical fire, but natural fire, but only to destroy, not to heal, unless he were to heal himself.

Harry had also, at an early age, found his own brand of mind magic, one which could not be blocked by the means which the wizarding world knew of. Harry could invade the mind of any individual he wanted to, save for Luna Lovegood whose magic was in a way similar to Harry's while at the same time different, she was still an enigma, one which Harry had yet to solve or figure out.

He could modify memories, but that was also a part of his brand of soul magic, he could replace, plant, and change memories on a whim. He could even form links between minds allowing for telepathic communications. He was a master of the mind.

Another extension to his emerald and crimson magics, was that of the art of necromancy. He was in a way a necromancer, not a lich, but he need not go that far, as he was already more or less immortal. His magic healed him of injuries, and due to his consumation of lifeforces, he would lived for more than centuries, there was also the addition to his bloodstream, the lovely addition of the philosopher's stone which Alchemist Nicholas Flamel had created after countless experiments. Not only could he produce the elixir of life, through a number of ways as he had experimented, but his blood, if used to boil almost any kind of metal would turn that metal into gold.

He had experimented with necromancy, and been able to produce some promising results, such as human puppets and sleeper agents, as well as his Frost Worm, that one undead basilisk which he had created.

His arsenal not only held his magics but his servants and subordinates as well, also he had the wealth to actually wage war with Britain if he so chose.

He had house elves which had in a way evolved due to exposure to his magics, and had a thirst for blood, they thirsted for the hunt, for the kill, and for the pleasure of doing their master's bidding. They had already silenced a few families worth of house elves, those potential threats from outside the Potter family had been neutralized before they could actually become real threats.

His subordinates were not mindless drones, they actually had thoughts and feelings of their own, they also shared in his vision of a better and brighter tomorrow. But that was still a long time from actually happening.

He had at his right hand Charity Greyback, a niece of the criminal werewolf known as Fenrir Greyback though she wasn't aware of such a relation, she was also the fiance of Harry's left hand man, Tristan Cruor. Charity was a well mannered woman, with a habit of mostly acting the professional and personal assistant to Harry, while her fiance Tristan was the Head of Operations, specifically anything related to the criminal aspect of Harry's organization, Charity was in charge of the public face of the organization, which went under the name Potter Industries. Potter Industries of PI had a finger in a lot of pies in the business world. But one of their main businesses was in gardening and pottery, even though Harry had no green thumb or want to stay in a garden toiling away under the hot summer sun, he did have the capacity to appreciate the beauty of nature, even though he could destroy such beauty in an instant. He needed to keep his plants happy and healthy too, the seedling needed pots to be placed in after all. Of course that was his main reason at the moment for actually having a finger in the gardening and pottery business, the more minor reason was that a potter was one that made pots, and pots are sometimes where plants are placed.

Right under his second in commands, well more like second and third in commands, were the Heads of Magical Operations, namely Mario, Alfonso, and Dino Zabini, collectively known as the Zabini Trio. They were in charge of everything that had to do with the magical world, from recruitment, to jobs, to assassinations.

But this already extensive arsenal gained another addition to its ranks on the night of Harry's thirteenth birthday, as he once again relieved memories through his dreams. He dreamt about the Imperius Curse, Legilimency, and the Burning Coffin Curse.

The Imperius Curse's incantation is Imperio, it is used to control the actions of another, but can be thrown off if the victim has a strong enough will. It was consiered as a dark curse, an Unforgiveable even as if robbed its victim of free will. Harry already had his own brand of mind control. He really didn't need this particular spell, but it could be useful if he were to have his puppets perform it as they did not have the same abilities as he did, for he unlike them, was special. His puppets, whether the original soul inhabiting the body was a muggle or a magical, was outfitted with a new spirit, with a new magic core by Harry, which made casting spells to be different from what wizards and witches did, it was also untraceable by the Ministry of Magic. His puppets now had an invaluable ability, when they needed to do something.

Legilimency, it is a mind reading skill or ability, one which Lord Voldemort excelled in, able to read the minds of even the most protected of individuals. Something which Harry did not really need as he already had his own brand of invasive and protective mind magics. But it along with its coutnerpart, Occulomency, it was invaluable to his subordinates, as it allowed even the most magicless of individuals to perform surface scans as well as protect their own minds. All life had magic, even a teeny tiny bit of it, and if someone needed more Harry could implant their bodies with a little bit more. These magics didn't require all that much magic, so even a muggle whose magic was normally unaccessible would have been able to practice these two arts. Operations, the legal and illegal ones would be able to flow smoother with these additional skills. All Harry would need to do was compile his own instruction manual for his people, something which with the nigh infinite information his mind held would be able to accomplish with little to no hassle.

Lastly, the Burning Coffin Curse, whose incantation was Igneus Capulus, was a dark curse which when cast successfilly would force a coffin to suddenly appear around the victim and instantly combust. It also had the effect of completely sealing all movement, instantly atrophying muscles, and generally causing immense pain in the joints of the body. It was through this last curse which Harry had gained some personal additional power, it was through the dissection of this spell where Harry's brown magic came from, it was through this idea that Harry gained some brown flames, brown in the sense as the same color of dried blood. The power to instantly seal movement.

To celebrate his new found power, Harry had decided to go hunting, a whole year with no killings coming from his underworld faction had gotten them out from and completely away from the radar of the authorities. It was now time to once again make their presence known and felt in the underworld community. The other factions and families had begun to think that the Demon Lord had lost his thirst for death, and had grown weak. Well Harry planned on rectifying that misunderstanding.

"Tristan," Harry greeted his third in command as the man entered his office.

"My lord, how may I be of use this fine morning?" Tristan asked jovially.

"Comgal McTarvish has dared to insinuate that I am weak," Harry said.

"What would you have me to do him?" Tristan asked eagerly.

"Prepare the men," Harry said, "Its time rid London of its leprechaun infestation."

"What manner of pesticide do we use to rid our beloved city of such vermin?" Tristan asked.

"Smear their blood, brains, and guts, on the walls and pavement of the city," Harry said, "Use whatever means necessary to prove that I am still the Demon Lord, and all of you are my hellish host of demons and nephilim."

"What of Comgal McTarvish?" Tristan asked.

"I hear the goblins like their leprechauns crispy, and since he's such a juicy one," Harry said, "I'll roast him myself."

"Such a greasy leprechaun he is," Tristan said, "Are you sure the goblins will like such a fattening feast?"

"I'm sure they'll be delighted," Harry said, "If they do not appreciate the gift, then I shall make them experience the fourth circle."

"Understood sir, I shall now take my leave to inform the soldier of their reactivation," Tristan said, bowed and saluted in a silly little way, then left the office to prepare inform the troops, and prepare some leprechaun poison.

At four in the afternoon, Harry and his forces arrived en masse in the Irish quarter of the city, where all the Irishmen seemed to be holed up. Comgal McTarvish was apparently not at home, but his wife and eighteen year old heir was.

Harry's people had arrived from all over the city, entering the district from all sides, all of them waiting for the signal from their lord to begin their attack. While they had not been given specific targets, they decided on their own targets, so long as the Irish faction was dealt a severe to mortal blow, Harry would be pleased. Some of the men decided to climb up to the roof tops of some of the buildings, others waited on the street, while others still decided to sit reading newspapers in a nearby park.

Charity was among the group, the sole female of the group to be exact. She carried with her what appeared to be an umbrella, little did the people that were dismissing her presence know that she was a Penguin fan, the one from the Batman comics, who loved using umbrellas as weapons. Along with the umbrella, which was colored black, she also had a large carrying case laying at her feet. She was also a Harley Quinn fan, that girl could use any weapon she got her hands on to use in the name of her Mistah J. In the case she had a bazooka among other things.

Tristan on the other hand was busy making a spectacle of himself in the middle of the street, not so far away from the house of Comgal McTarvish. He appeared as if he were drunk on someting new, and was busily insulting some random person who clearly was a member of the McTarvish family. Tristan was a known member of the Potter faction, and was also a rather violent person, to actually within the territory of a rival family, made people belive that he was simply drunk and had tried to drink away his problems concerning the inability of his boss to continue being the demon that had taken control of a large portion of the underworld. He also appeared to not have any back up with him in case things got hairy, which made the Irishmen relax their guards, thinking that their combined might would be able to teach this one man a lesson in discipline if he ever got out of his drunken funk and decided to get violent.

The signal was not something subtle to give the operatives some form of cover to go about their business. It was very catchy and grabbed the attention of the entire neighborhood. Harry had decided that the had probably waited long enough for Comgal to arrive, and since he had yet to show up, Harry did the only thing to relieve his boredom, he exited the home, and just as the front door closed, the house exploded in a brilliant ball of flames, emerald, crimson, and brown. Surrounding harry was his maelstorm of magic, visible to the naked eye. The flames quickly formed arms, and began grabbing hold of victims, their specific magics also taking effect. The emerald flames slowly drained the life out of its victims, the crimson slowly caused insanity due to pain, and the brown flames sealed all movement of its captives then slowly turning their muscles to jell-o. In the midst of the raging inferno was Harry calm as the eye of a storm. He decided to sit on the curb of the road and wait for his operatives to finish off the rest of the members of the Irish faction. At his feet were the heads of Comgal McTarvish's family, their faces frozen in horror.

Upon feeling the sudden build up of his lord's power, Tristan lashed out at the people he was insulting a pair of steak knives exiting his sleeves and their handles landing within the grips of his hands, and their blades slamming home in the hearts of the men just as the explosion rocked the street. Once the men he was speaking to were dead, he moved on to the next group of stunned and surprised individuals, and slashed open their throats. He didn't discriminate at all, young or old, male or female, they were all Irish to his eyes, and they all deserved to die. It was his lord's orders, not that really mattered much to the dead and dying, but to Tristan it was the perfect excuse to cut loose, and enjoy the festivites.

Upon seeing the explosion rock the street, she opened her umbrella and flung it up into the air. There were running people all around her, none of them being her comrades thankfully, as when the umbrella was at its peak, she pulled on a nearly invisible wire, which let loose the umbrella's gunfire mechanism which made it rain bullets on the street, dealing heavy damage to the surrounding people. Leaving her umbrella to slowly descend as it emptied its payload, she pulled out the bazooka and launched several volleys at several houses until she actually ran out of shells. After repacking the bazooka, she pulled out an AK-47 and added more holes to the bodies of the Irish, man, woman, child, and pet, all fell to the terror of her little baby.

Mario Zabini had a bone to pick with several members of the Irish faction, so he dealt with them in his own special way. He pulled out a Desert Eagle and a Colt .45 and took pot shots at the members of his enemies families. It was a bit of fun, as was separating their heads from their shoulders in a shower of blood whenever one of them tried to move to another hiding spot.

Alfonso Zabini had a habit of playing in arcades when it was his day off. His favorite game being the sniping games, he always got into the top ten of the game, no matter how many people had beaten his top score, he made sure to place his name back in the rankings. Knowing this piece of infoamtion, it came as no surprise that he was stationed atop one of the nearby buildings sniping some of the hiding people, the ones missed by the rest of the ground forces. He treated these people as target practice for when he finally found that one twenty-one year old that insisted on beating his score out of the rankings everytime. He would prove to his rival that he was the best, by blowing his rival's brains out, but if he couldn't do that there were still nearly countless other people to waste bullets on.

Dino Zambini had a love for dogs, but his favorite breed was the doberman, which was why he had brought with him his specially trained pack of dobermen, all of their coats a sleek black, ears pointed, tails cut short, and their canines prominent and menacing. These dogs were trained enough to follow their master's orders. Dino, upon hearing the explosions, let loose his dogs and had them hunt down the leprechauns, the bearded bastards didn't stand a chance as Dino and his devil dogs tore into each and every person they encountered, foe only of course. His weapon of choice were his dogs, a pair of brass knuckles, and a mace, not the spray of chemicals, but the actual medieval weapon, which he used to bash skulls in.

The other operatives were simply all over the place, all of them had masks on, but not covering their faces, but simply stuck to their heads, facing the side, on their head as a hat, or hanging around their neck. They all had their masks, as those things were just as much their identification as their IDs were. The sounds of bullets flying and people dying filled the air, as did the sweet scent of death fill the district, a scent which would have attracted the authorities if it weren't for Harry's puppet army casting the imperius curse on anyone that tried to move in on the festivities, it was an invited guests only event, one which the main man, the celebrant, the host, the reason for the party had yet to arrive.

When Comgal's hellicopter was finally seen over the battlefield, it was suddenly pulled down before Comgal could give the order to get out of there. The hellicopter was pulled down and not shot down. Harry's flaming demonic arms had grabbed hold of the hellicopter and its blades and pulled the vehicle down.

"Hello Comgal," Harry greeted the gueast of honor of the party, "I had almost thought that you would not have come."

"You! How dare you!" Comgal said, then noticed the heads of his family, without really thinking about his next actions, he grabbed a pistol, leveled it with Harry's head, and fired.

The bullet didn't even leave the gun before it exploded in flames. The spark caused by the gunpowder in the bullet when it ignited was manipulated by Harry into exploding like a mini inferno, causing the gun to explode in the man's hand, taking the hand along with it.

"Y-you monster!" the man shouted.

"You dared to call me weak," Harry stated, "Now you and the rest of your faction will serve as an example to the other factions and families. No one crosses Harry Potter and gets away with it."

"Kill him," Comgal ordered his bodyguards as he cradled his bloody stump, when he noticed that they did not immediately follow orders he kicked one while saying, "Move already!"

The kick caused the man to crumple to the ground, his head hitting the pavement, killing him instantly. Their bodies had had their any possible movement sealed away, they had also been petrified. Essentially they were very close to death's door, but were stuck, in a way, staring at death's master.

"May you enjoy the stench and feel of shit for all eternity," Harry told the man, then roasted him with his crimson flame, killing him slowly, while sending his mind to the brink of insanity and back, never letting him crossover, as Harry intended the man to recognize the pain til the hellish end.

By the time the festivities had ended it was midnight. Harry finally mentally ordered his troops to leave the field of battle one after another, slowly and steadily, depending on where his operatives lived when not staying in the dorms. Charity, Tristan, the Zabini Trio, and himself were the last to leave, Harry taking the body of Comgal with him, which he really would be presenting to the goblin when he visited them the next day to once again make a withdrawal, he had received his school letter while waiting for Comgal after all.

By the time the police were finally allowed to leave their station and get to the site of the bloody battle, they found no such thing as living and breathing persons. They wondered how they had been held back, how they had not been able to keep the peace. Instead of finding the answers to such questions, they eneded up finding a message written on the street itself, written with the blood of the innocents..

Let this be a lesson to all those that would cross the Demon Lord.

All the members of the Irish faction had been taken out within only a few hours. The police couldn't do anything about it, while they were glad to be rid of the faction, they couldn't help but shiver in fear at the prospect of having to deal with whomever it was that had taken out all the members and families of the Irish faction lead by the McTarvish clan.

Investigation went underway, but would no one would be able to figure out who exactly it was that did it all. If they did find out that it was Harry and his group, there was little doubt that Harry would get to walk away scot free as he would simply influence the jury, judge, and prosecution. His people would get away with fines and the like as well, it wouldn't do if the judicial system didn't do something in the form of minor justice.

Harry had made sure to burn out all traces of his and his people's presence, as well as modifying the memories of any that survived the massacre for there was sure to have been some survivors, while they would not be found immediately, they would be found eventually. All they would remember seeing was that demons had attacked and killed everyone else. No mention of modern weapons, but demons, demons, and more demons.