FicWad

Author's Notes: There will be graphic violence, smut and character deaths. If you don't like it, too bad. This is an Au. I have tried my best to keep everyone in character... everyone except Harry that is.


Disclaimer: If you recognize it, then it might well belong to J.K.R or to some of her affiliates. Or to some random people out there. I only claim my OC:s and plot.

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Chapter One: More Snake Than Lion



Harry felt his feet slam into the soft ground, his injured leg gave the way and he fell forwards. His hand let go of the Triwizard Cup as his body hit the floor in not so dignifying manner.


"Where are we?" Cedric asked as he offered his hand to help him to get back to his feet.


Harry rose up, looking around. His lips formed into a evil smirk. They were standing in a dark and overgrown graveyard. The black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. He could just make out the outline of an old manor on the hillside. Harry glanced Cedric. "No idea," he said, trying to sound convincing. He knew that the Hufflepuff would believe him. He had years of experience in arts of deception, after all.


He knew exactly where they were. Soon his lord would regain his body. It had taken him years to research the necessary rituals and gather the required materials and people. Soon he would take his rightful place as his lord's lieutenant and heir. Harry chuckled quietly. He remembered vividly when he met his lord for the first time...



"Now... why don't you give me the Stone in your pocked?"


So he knew. He saw right through me, Harry thought. What could he do now? What could he do against one of the most powerful sorcerers of all time? Nothing, he concluded. Absolutely nothing. But he couldn't just give the Stone to him? Or could he?


"Don't be fool," snarled the face. "Better to save your own life and join me... or you will meet the same end as your parents... they died begging me for mercy."


"Which you apparently didn't give! What guarantees do I have that you won't just kill me when you get the stone?"


Quirrell was walking backwards at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling. "None, boy, absolutely nothing."


The Dark Lord lifted his wand, Quirrell's arm bending unnaturally. "Avada Kedavra."


In that instant Harry deciced that if he was going to lose, he was at least making sure that Voldemort won't win either. His hand sprung out of his pocked, bringing the Philosopher's Stone into the curse's path.


The green bolt of profane magic hit the blood-red stone, shattering it into tiny fragments in an explosion of green fire. Harry fell backwards, his ass hitting the cold, stone floor with resounding thud. "Ouch," he intoned.


"Yet again..." Voldemort hissed. "Congratulations, Potter. You managed to destroy the Stone. Now you will pay for that. Crucio!"


The spell hit him and he felt like he had been stabbed with million white hot knives. The pain was unbearable. He gasped for air. It was million times more agonizing than anything Dursleys had ever done to him. He fell on the floor, yelling incoherently, his body convulsing uncontrollably.


Then the pain stopped as abruptly as it had started. Harry blinked. He wondered what Dursleys would look like when they are held under that spell. He nearly chuckled at that mental image.


"That had to hurt, didn't it, Harry," Voldemort asked in his customary hiss. Harry lifted his gaze, and watched directly into the merciless blood-red eyes. There had to be same way out of this, he thought. He didn't want to die!


"Does... your offer still stand?"


Voldemort looked at him curiously. "What?"


"I know that you will eventually kill me if I continue to oppose you, even if, I, for some reason manage to survive this. And... It is not like I have any love towards ministry or Dumbledore... They left me to be abused by my worthless, muggle relatives."


Voldemort smiled. "Lets talk."



"Harry, did anyone tell you about the cup being a portkey?" Cedric's question brought him back to the real world.


"Nope," said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard expectantly. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. Where was everyone?


Cedric was also looking around. Not expectantly, though, but nervously. "Wands out, d'yuo reckon?"


"Yeah," Harry answered and took out his holly wand. It was the brother wand to his master's wand. It was a mark of their kindred spirits. They were so alike, yet so different.


"Someone is coming," Cedric whispered. Indeed, a dark figure was walking steadily towards them between the graves. Harry couldn't make out the face, but from the way it was walking, and holding it's arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. It was Wormtail, Harry concluded, but what was he carrying?


Wormtail stopped beside a towering marble gravestone, only six feet from them. For a second Harry and Cedric and the short figure looked at each other.


And then, without warning, the bundle the man was carrying moved. A pair of red, gleaming eyes ware bared at them. Lord Voldemort, he realised.


The bundle moved again and he heard a high pitched, gold voice saying, "kill the spare."


This was it, Harry realised, the final test. The test to see whether he could kill at command. He had killed before, yes, but indirectly...



They were coming. He could already feel their cold presences ebbing his Occlumency shield. Dementors had the utmost ability to project all encompassing terror around them. Their mere aura would reduce their victims into whimpering masses of flesh, unable to do anything due the weight of despair and terror they were feeling, when all hope and happiness was drained of them.


This was not going according the plan... But maybe he could use Dementors to silence Black and get rid of that traitor, Snape? Yes, Pettigrew had escaped, and according to the prophecy, would rejoin their master. It's sensible to silence all who knew about him not being dead. Ron should be silenced too.


And then Harry saw them. Dementors, at least hundred of them, gliding in a black mass around the lake towards them, the familiar, icy cold penetrating his insides and the strain on his mind's shields grew exponentially. More of them were appearing out of the darkness around them, effectively encircling them.


Harry lifted his wand, and a second later his companion was stunned, crumbling into the soft forest ground. It was a pity he had to do this. Ron had been his friends since he arrived on Hogwarts, especially since Hermione's demise, but some things must be sacrificed to attain something more valuable.


The wizarding world was rabidly going downhill. Everybody should see that. Muggleborns were tainting it with all things muggle. Muggles are rabid beast on a path to self-destruction. Not that their demise as such would be unfortunate. What is unfortunate is the fact that they are probably going to take all higher life with them in a great blaze of nuclear fire, leaving only bunch of cockroaches to inhabit barren, radioactive landscape.


You could easily see what muggleborns had already done to his beloved world. Because of them, ancient custom were being abandoned. The wizarding world was no longer ruled by elder families, but by a set of ministries. And anyone could see that the ministries are festering wounds of incompetence, spreading their corruption to all aspects of wizarding world.


And the fact that muggleborns actively fraternise with muggles could easily have terrible consequences. It would only take a simple mistake to reveal the magical world to muggles. After that, war would be inevitable. The war will come anyway, but his master will make sure that it is fought by wizards' rules.


Thinking of the new world his master would bring he whispered, "Expecto Patronum." A thin silvery wisp burst out of his wand, hovering like a mist around him, before solidifying into silver snake, curling lovingly around him, protecting its master from those foul soul-suckers.


Then Harry started walking steadily towards the great castle, leaving his 'friends' to their deaths, Dementors giving a way to the Dark Lord's protégé.


Those blood traitor Weasleys will be devastated when they learn about Ron's death. Harry idly wondered whether he should 'console' Ginny in her sadness. It might be entertaining. She probably still harboured that silly crush on him and, more importantly, she had started to develop her womanly curves this year...



He was not going to fail now. He had already made his choice, and now he should embrace what will follow, doing otherwise would be dishonourable. He lifted his wand and pointed it to Cedric's side. Still, it was a pity to kill a talented, pureblood wizard like him. But then, orders were orders. It couldn't be helped. "Avada Kedavra."


A bolt of twisting, sickly green light left his holly wand, hitting Hufflepuff Prefect split-second later. Cedric's lifeless body fell on the ground, his betrayed expression now forever imprinted on his face. It was his first real kill. He knew he should feel something, but he didn't. Maybe it was because of the years he had been spending hiding his real emotions. Maybe it was because of his terrible childhood at the hands of those idiotic muggles. Maybe it was because of the all Dark Arts he had been doing. Or maybe it was because he didn't like or know him. Perhaps it was because of his Occlumency. Anyway, it didn't really matter. Neither the kill nor that he didn't feel anything.


"Are the preparations ready, worm?" he asked, his voice oozing hate. He despised the betrayer of his parents. Harry knew he was being hypocritical, but what can you do? Hate was a feeling he had in abundance due all Dark Arts training.


"Yes, young master, but..."


"But what? For your sake I hope it's a very small 'but'," Harry cut in, looking the other Death Eater with scorn. His hand tightened around his holly wand and his mind conjured up imagines of Wormtail's bloodied remains scattered all the graveyard. It was a real pity that the Dark Lord had use for his rat.


Peter was nearly cowering. "It's just that I need seven drops of your blood."


Harry sighed, fighting an urge to curse that miserable maggot. "Of course I knew you would need them! I was the one that created that ritual with the help of our lord. I thought you had somehow managed to screw something up."


"Stop your useless bantering and begin the ritual!" a cold voice screeched. Their lord was apparently getting impatient.


"Yes, master," both Harry and Peter quickly mumbled as a response.


The ritual would require all his lord's Horcruxes, seven drop of his killers blood, an ounce of his servant's flesh, and skull of his father. And -of course- a virgin muggle girl. Not that she was going to stay as a virgin or even alive over the ritual.


The ritual was going to be performed in the old church. Two red circles were drawn on the floor with a concoction made mostly of unicorn blood. The circles were surrounded by glowing arcane sigils, which would direct the massive energies during the ritual. In the centre of one circle was a large stone cauldron, on the other was a naked girl, obviously controlled by the Imperius curse.


"Nice," Harry whispered, mostly to himself, as he looked at the girl. She couldn't be no older than seventeen. Not that it mattered, he was fourteen, nearing fifteen, after all. Of course Harry had the boon of actually surviving the ritual.


Harry's gaze travelled up and down the girl. Curved, brown hair cascaded on her shoulders. Her blue eyes were unfocused, and she had an unreadable expression. It was probably due the Imperius curse. Not that he was really looking at her face anyway as the rest of her body was far more interesting. Her breast, though only average, were firm and beautiful, with pink, erect nipples. Her skin was nicely suntanned and she had all the womanly curves on the right places. Her pubic area was neatly shaved into a V-like shape, which looked rather exotic, and not to mention erotic. Her petite frame was shivering from the cold.


He turned his head to see what the other Death Eater was doing. Wormtail was pointing his wand towards the bottom of the cauldron and a second later there were crackling flames beneath it.


The liquid of the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface begun to bubble. Few seconds later it begun sending green and black sparks.


A large snake slithered to the circle from the darkness. It was his lord's familiar. A beautiful and surprisingly intelligent, brownish-green serpent. :Hello, Nagini:


:Hello, young master,: it hissed back. It was obviously very pleased. No wonder, really. Within a half-hour their master would regain his body.


Wormtail has started dropping Horcruxes to the cauldron. Hufflepuff's cup, Marvolo's ring and Slytherin's locket. Nagini was already in the vicinity. And so was he.


Harry himself was a double horcrux. When Lord Voldemort had failed to kill him, due his mother's blood shield, he transmitted some of his abilities into Harry. It was because a tiny part of the Dark Lord's fleeing soul stuck on him, making him a Horcrux. He wondered whether Dumbledore knew. Then he had acquired a second piece of his master's soul during his second year at Hogwarts...



"Are you a ghost?" Harry asked uncertainly.


"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years." He pointed towards the floor near the statue's giant toes, where the small, black book, Riddle's diary.


"So, you were the one to open the chamber?"


"Indeed, I did. This school must be purged from mudbloods," Riddle said in soft tones.


Harry sighed. "You realise that there are better ways to get that effect? You are merely causing Hogwarts to be closed."


"It doesn't really matter," Riddle said, smiling annoyingly. "For many months now, my new target has been you."


Harry was slightly surprised by that. "And why is that?"


"Ginny has told me your whole fascinating history." His eyes roved over the lightning scar on Harry's forehead, and his expression grew hungrier. "I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could."


"And so, in effort to gain my trust, you showed your famous capture of Hagrid," Harry sneered. "You probably didn't know that I know him, do you? There is absolutely no way that he is the Heir of Slytherin. You framed him."


Riddle laughed his high laugh. "It was my word against Hagrid's, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the other hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school Prefect, model student; on the other hand Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls. But I admit even I was surprised how well it worked. Still, I knew I couldn't continue Salazar Slytherin's noble work in the school in my time. I created the diary, so that, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish what I started."


"So, you possessed Ginny to reopen the Chamber," Harry said evenly. "Where is the basilisk, by the way?"


Riddle begun to smile wickedly. "I sent it to hospital wing to kill all those petrified."


"What?" asked Harry in astonishment. "You are kidding, right?" Hermione was about to die, maybe she was even dead already. Harry didn't know whether to be relieved that the basilisk wasn't here, or be distressed because it was killing his friend.


"I don't joke, Potter. Now, answer me for a one question. How did you survive two encounters with the greatest wizard this world has ever seen?"


Harry's eyes narrowed. What do the spirit want with his master? "Why do you care? Lord Voldemort's time was after your time."


"Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "is my past, present and future, Harry Potter." He pulled Ginny's wand out of his pocked. Harry instantly pulled his wand out of his robes. Riddle begun to trace his wand through the air, writing three shimmering words:


TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE


Then he waved his wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:


I AM LORD VOLDEMORT


No shit, Harry thought. This apparition was younger version of his master. What should he do now? Safest route would be to destroy it. If the school would be closed his work to resurrect the real Lord Voldemort would suffer a tremendous setback.


Harry lifted his wand, wondering what spell could harm a thing like him. The diary, he realised.


"Accio Diary," Harry yelled, the diary flying into his outreached hand.


"No," Riddle screamed. "Avada Kedavra."


Harry easily sidestepped the curse. The duelling club had really improved his reaction time. He was proud of the fact that he had won the second year students' duelling championship. He decided to take page out of Riddle's book. "Avada Kedavra," he said, pressing his wand tip into the diary. Luckily he had been able to buy few Dark Arts books last summer. The Killing Curse was actually an easy spell to cast. It mere took lots of power, and power was something he had in spades.


There was a flash of sickly green light followed by a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over his hands. Suddenly he felt like something cold and massive was surging through him, filling him to the brink with tainted power. His scar burned like never before and he fell to his knees, yelling incoherently. He blinked repeatedly. He felt some unknown presence in the corner of his mind.



So he had acquired the second piece of his master's soul, which had reinforced his mental link with his master, allowing them to mentally communication over great distances. The Dark Lord had then began to teach him in Dark Arts. Studying with mentor was far more effective than self-study. His powers had grown quickly. He wasn't even fifteen yet, and still there were hardly anyone who could challenge him and win. A smile crept into his lips. In few short years he would be second only to the Dark Lord. Both in rank and power.


Professor Dumbledore had managed to capture the basilisk, but not before it had killed all the patients except the Gryffindor ghost, which it had been unable to touch. Luckily Hogwarts hadn't been closed. As a positive side-effect, Lockhart had been shoved into St. Mungo's long-term ward.


"Potter, we should begin now," Wormtail said fearfully. Harry sneered at him. He was fearing the pain that cutting his flesh would cause? Idiotic, whimpering coward!


"Very well then," he said and walked to the cauldron, taking the silver knife offered by Peter Pettigrew. As his fingers tightened around the hilt, he could feel the immense enchantments laid on the blade. He could feel that the blade was alive and hungry, so hungry. It had taken two months from Barty to enchant it.


"Blood of the victorious, freely given, you will resurrect your equal," Harry intoned, cutting his palm and letting seven drops of crimson liquid to fall to the cauldron. The liquid turned into brilliant red. He gave the knife back to Wormtail and made his way towards the girl.


Peter dropped a skull in the cauldron as he said, "Skull of the father, secretly taken, you will revive your son." The liquid started to hiss violently.


"Flesh of a servant, willingly given, you will heal your master," Wormtail whispered, swinging his knife and cutting his left index finger off. Harry nearly laughed at his agonized yell of pain. As the bloodied finger hit the surface of the bubbling liquid it started to emanate bright red light.


"Life of a prey, forcibly taken, you will renew your foe," Harry said and looked at the girl hungrily. There was a malevolent glint in his eyes.


He slid her legs apart, revealing her to him. Her skin was soft, so smooth, it felt like nothing he had ever touched before, and it was already turning him on. He inhaled deeply, shuddering imperceptibly. She looked so incredible, the Imperio induced trusting look in her eyes, the way he could see her breasts move in time with her breathing, and as he moved his eyes down, over her stomach and triangle of curls.


As he cupped her warm, soft breasts, he looked over her and saw Wormtail carrying the current vessel of lord Voldemort to the rim of the cauldron and then dropping him into it. The liquid instantly turned into midnight black. Everything was going as it should. He flicked his thumbs over the tumid peaks, running his fingers everywhere.


He knelt between her legs, his face hovering over her stomach and undid his fly and released himself to the air before capturing her nubile body into his arms. It was wonderful to feel the silky skin press against his hot flesh. She arched her back, her breasts pushing into his chest, the twin peaks almost driving him insane with pleasure as they dug into him.


"Do you want it?" Harry whispered to her ear. A second later her hand slid under her body and grasped a hold of his cock, softly caressing it, before guiding him into her. He groaned at the feel of pleasure it's giving to slowly slide into her tight hole. She was warm, wet, and very tight around him. Her hand moved to her clit as he stopped for a while and enjoyed the feel of her warmth. Then he pushed it in as far as it will go, which earned the feel of something popping. The girl clinched her eyes closed and moaned softly in pain as he slid fully into her warm, inviting crevice. Sweet, soft sobs emanated from her lips. It was a very nice feeling, Harry had to confess. And It was slightly hypnotic to watch her breasts sway up and down as he begun pounding into her.


A slow, steady rhythm turned to hard and rough as Harry begun pounding against her with everything he had. Moans, grunts and screams came from the petite brunette beneath him. She was getting pleasure from this even if it was her first time. Imperio was such a nice spell.


He pushed up into her harder than he had before, and he felt himself pulse deep inside her. She sunk onto him, and there was an amazing sensation as he came deep inside her for the first (and the last) time. It was enough to push her over the edge, and she seemed to clench around him in an orgasmic bliss.


She screamed of intense pleasure, her head jerking up as she rose into an almost sitting position, every muscle inside her suddenly tensing. Then she exploded, literally. The whole room was suddenly showered with blood and gore. It was quite disgusting end to an otherwise nice recreational activity. As the muggle's blood temporally blinded Harry, he couldn't see the liquid in the cauldron turning blindingly white.


Harry stood up shakily, spitting blood off his mouth, his right hand taking the blood covered glasses from his eyes so that he could see, something, and his left hand put his rabidly flagging dick back to his trousers, and fastened his fly. He blinked repeatedly as he watched the room around him.


The cauldron was no longer sending sparks, instead a surge of white steam billowed thickly from it, obliterating everything in front of Harry. Hopefully the girl's soul, tainted just before it was extracted, had been sufficient. If it hadn't, he would just murder Wormtail and add his soul to the spell, as his and his master's contingency plan went. Wormtail, of course, knew nothing of it.


He sighed in relief as he saw a tall and skeletally thin figure through the mist front of him, the ritual had succeeded. In a sense it was a pity, as now he couldn't kill Wormtail.


"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated hand, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head.


The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry, who stared back. "It seems that the extraction was bit more explosive than anticipated. Still, you have done well, very well indeed, my son."


"Anything to serve you, my lord," Harry mumbled, bowing.


His master took out his wand and with a single twirl all blood and gore vanished. His clothing was once again clean from that disgusting muggle blood. He bowed yet again.


Harry chuckled quietly. Lord Voldemort had returned, and he started to hope again.