A Twist To Harry Potter

“Did anyone see you Harry Potter?” asked Lord Voldemort.

“No, I don’t believe so” answered back Harry, brushing flue dust from the cloak of invisibility.

“Good, I’ve put too much time and energy into clouding these people’s minds that are close to you” He turned his red eyes toward Harry….

“I let you live, I spared your life as a child Harry Potter, to serve MY needs, not yours, don’t forget that.”

“I won’t, Lord. I have always known that the link in our magic was stronger than me, that it was you, all along, that allowed me to survive the attack that killed my parents, to better serve your needs, of which encompass purposes I can’t possibly fathom with my limited faculties”

Lord Voldemort stared at Harry.

He had surrounded this man, the husband of that muggle-loving Weasley girl, the father of their two children, with spells that no mere Hogwarts students, no matter how clever, could even realize were possible. They wouldn’t even know where to start, not even Dumbledore knew this kind of power.

Lord Voldemort knew, for a fact, that the only way such magic could found, not controlled, not harnessed….maybe, borrowed was a better word for it….

The only way it could even be discovered was from inside the dark.

Voldemort had found such magic in the dark.

The kind of dark magic that fed on light.

Truly, evil magic….

Voldemort shuddered thinking about Harry’s mixed mud-blood children again….

He knew he had to suffer fools; it was all part of the greater picture, the main feature of his, their, final act.

Dumbledore was dead, Snape is a fool, McGonagal, that Animagus trash, was no threat….Lupin, Sirius Black and that braggart Barty Crouch Sr were no longer a worry, not that they ever really were.

They had no clue, not even a whisper that the parts they had been playing in his, Lord Voldemort aka Tom Marvolo Riddles’ “Théâtre de la Magie Noire”.

They were puny, children at his feet.

The great, dark Lord Voldemort had brought them all to this end by his power and understanding of the lightless magic.

It was he….! That had caused the pain and destruction, brought out the worst in their collective dreams and led them all to the conclusion that had been carefully orchestrated way before Harry Potter was even a gleam in James Potter’s eye….

Lord Voldemort turned to look at Harry Potter, who was now a grown man, well into his late twenties, his own skills in magic were impressive and showed great talent, but his magic still needed the light to be effective.

“I…am your father” said Lord Voldemort to Harry Potter.

“I know” replied The Boy that Lived, kneeling down quietly, his eyes cast at the dark lords feet….

“Then we must finish this, and bring to heel the light of magic” said Voldemort.

He continued “I grow so weary of this game”

“What must I do?” asked Harry, his eyes still downcast, one palm on the floor.

“Bring me your children, and Ron Weasley and that mud-blood, Grangers children….”

Harry slowly raised his head and looked at the dark lord, the question in his eyes….

“Their blood will be critical to the spell”

Not an explanation, not a “By your leave”….

….just…”Blood”

“You must bring your wife also, Potter. She must watch you kill your children for the spell to draw from the anguish and horror what it must have for full potency” said Voldemort.

Harry Potter nodded at the dark lord, his father….

“I will do as you say” he said.

“We are going to the other side of the veil, Harry….Dumbledore is there, and he still has something I need” added Tom Riddle.

Harry turned back to the flue, took a handful of flue powder from his pocket and started to toss it into the fire pit.

“Harry…?” said Voldemort.

Harry Potter looked over his shoulder at the dark lord, and followed Voldemort’s startled gaze

“Harry…..” Voldemort was looking at a spot in the ceiling above the chimney that was beginning to swirl in the air, an inky myriad of night shades spinning and tumbling over one another.

Harry stepped back from the flue “What is it, father?!”

“It’s not what, Harry…it’s who…” said Voldemort…..a tiny, tremulous lilt in his voice.

“Then, who…is it?!” asked Harry, reacting to the dark lords expressions, his hand flashing out with his wand toward the coal black, spiraling vortex in the air.

A piercing black, flash of blinding dark light swept thru the room, a booming laugh echoed across their souls…

Voldemort threw up his arms, as if though, in answering Harry’s question, it had hurt him, but it wasn’t Harry Potter that he feared….or that dark light.

Harry fell back against the mantle; his wand cracking in two under Voldemort’s stumbling feet as the previously accepted deceased

Dumbledore’s obsidian, grinning face pushed thru the inky swirl, his black eyes fixed on Harry and Voldemort.