
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6822553.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Tom_Riddle_|_Voldemort
  Additional Tags:
      Battle_of_the_Department_of_Mysteries, Half-Blood_Prince_AU, Order_of_the
      Phoenix_AU, Unforgivable_Curses_(Harry_Potter), Dark_Magic, Dark_Harry
      Potter, Necromancer_Harry_Potter, Death_Eater_Harry_Potter, Necromancy,
      Animagus_Harry_Potter, Harry_is_Lord_Black, Harry_is_Lord_Potter, Death
      Magic, Blood_Magic, Nature_Magic, Elemental_Magic, Shadow_magic, Death
      Rituals, Cannibalism, Blood_and_Gore, violence_and_torture, Underage_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-11 Chapters: 1/? Words: 2137
****** Into The Night Where The Monsters Wear No Masks ******
by VultureLovesong
Summary
     In a moment of furious, deranged madness, Harry Potter kills
     Bellatrix Lestrange at the Ministry of Magic. His soul, made fragile
     by the act of remorseless, heartless murder, reacts to the Horcrux
     living within it as a parasite and the two become one, an inseparable
     entity. As a result, the bond between Voldemort and Harry becomes
     much more than it previously was and, as a new, strange darkness
     makes its home in Harry’s heart, it soon becomes clear that the Boy-
     Who-Lived isn’t quite who he used to be.
Notes
     Rating: Nc-16, Explicit, MA-16+, R
     Themes: Necromancy, Dark Magic, Soul Magic, Dark Harry, Death Eater
     Harry
     Warnings: Bloody Violence, Necromancy, Underage Sexual Content,
     Torture, Cannibalism
     DISCLAIMER: This Is A Work Of Fanfiction Based On The Works And World
     Of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter Saga. I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING! All
     Rights To Harry Potter And His World Go To J. K. Rowling And Her
     Associates. Thank You! ~ V
[Bat Moon]
          ***** Into The Night Where The Monsters Wear No Masks *****
                       Chapter One - Awakening Darkness
                        Prior To 1996 -1997 School Year
===============================================================================
Bellatrix shot a second jet of red light, hitting Sirius squarely in the chest.
The laughter does not leave his face, but his eyes widen in shock, and he seems
to fall backwards into the veil in slow motion, his body arching gracefully, a
look of mingled fear and surprise on his wasted once handsome face. The veil
fluttered as if caught in a strong wind for a moment, and then fell back in
place, still and silent as a graveyard. Blood rushed in Harry's ears, and
everything became silent behind him, as if he had become detached from the
entire world, the only noise being the frantic hummingbird fast beating of his
heart against his rib cage. He does not know how long he stands, staring at the
veil, begging every higher power he can remember to please let Sirius step out
of the veil, to get back up and fight, but he is vaguely aware of Remus
grabbing him so that he can not follow, and Dumbledore showing up far to late.
The sound of Bellatrix's laughter filters in past the barrier, mocking and
childish and cruel, and suddenly Harry is turning, breaking free of the
werewolf's grasp, with a scream of anger that seems to shatter the numb silence
so that he can hear all that is going on around him, and he is running after
the woman who dared kill his godfather, killing intent clear on his face.
She mocks him in her baby-voiced teasing when he finally catches up to her, and
hatred beyond anything he has ever known fills him. He throws himself out from
behind the fountain of magical brethren, and casts the first spell in his
mind. "Crucio!"
He has never cast that spell before, he doesn't expect it to hold. At most, he
expects the spell to knock her off her feet, silence her laughter, get her
attention, and let her know how serious he really is. Only, that is not what
happens. The scarlet light of the curse hits her smug face dead center, and she
falls to the ground, writhing in pain. A sort of gooey warmth spreads through
him, and he suddenly understands why Death Eaters are so fond of this curse. He
doesn't know how long he holds her under the curse, but he cancels it when she
has stopped screaming, and blood starts trailing out of her ears, nose, mouth,
and eyes. He falls to the floor on his knees with a manic giggle similar to her
own had been, and she lays quite still in her unconscious state as he catches
his breath again.
He walks over to her, and kicks her in the side hard enough that she turns
over, and then he has to cast the reviving spell six times before her eyelashes
flutter weakly, and her eyes shoot open with unadulterated fear written across
them. She reaches for her wand, but Harry is faster, disarming her and casting
a full body weakening curse on her before she can make any move. She begs then,
quiet little pleas on her lips, and Harry feels another rush of arrant
irascibility. He doesn't torture her then, no matter how he wishes to. Instead
he drags her up by her chin, points his wand at her forehead, and calmly,
sweetly, caresses her face in an almost mockingly loving manner.
"Offer me power." He demands softly, and she nods.
"Yes, all that you wish." She says, clever girl that she is underneath the
madness. "And money too. I have much I can offer you."
He nods in approval at her. "How about, promise me anything I desire." he say
then.
"Whatever you wish, it will be yours." She dutifully promises, nodding fast.
The smirk that spreads across his face in that moment is no sweet thing, but
the same look to grace the face of a hyena on the hunt. "I want my godfather
back, you bitch." He whispers in a voice that sounds almost amused, and she
nods in agreement before the words catch up to her and her face fills with
terror. "Avada Kedavra!" He says, and the green light hits instantly, her cold
body slumping down to the floor, her cold dead eyes staring up at the ceiling
as if pleading with the gods to spare her, or to go easy on her when she meets
them.
As with the last spell, there is a rush of warmth throughout his entire body,
more powerful than earlier, but this time he manages to keep himself standing
as the effects rush through and fade. It is just as he has caught his breath
again that he becomes aware of clapping behind him, and he whirls around with
his wand pointed at his audience. It is Voldemort, standing there in his almost
petrifying serpentine glory, without a wand in sight, or a single ounce of
intent to maim or kill like Harry would expect.
"Well done." He says, and he isn't mocking at all.
Harry doesn't put his wand away, but he does lower it, his curiosity getting
the better of him. "Are you here to kill me, Riddle?" He asks.
Voldemort's hairless eyebrow twitches in annoyance, but he smirks and shakes
his head. "Not anymore, at least." He answers, and his face and voice convey no
untruthfulness.
The boy-who-lived nods. "Well, that's nice of you." He kicks Bellatrix in her
face as hard as he can, and her skull caves in with a satisfying squishy
crunch. "Not going to apologize for her." He tells the Dark Lord. "She deserves
to rot in the darkest corner of the underworld."
"I didn't expect you to apologize." Voldemort says. They two frown when the
sound of rapidly approaching footsteps reach them. "Necromancy is mostly
hogwash and parlour tricks. I've never given it much thought, but if you are
interested in pursuing such a path, there is a promising rumor that if you
consume the freely given heart of a dying Thestral, you will gain the true
powers of a necromancer." He says this all nonchalant, as if he isn't offering
information Harry would have killed for freely. 
"The catch?" Harry asks, knowing they need to hurry before Dumbledore and the
Order show up.
"Allow me to leave before they arrive with Bellatrix and your wand." Voldemort
states, and Harry opens his mouth to protest, only to be interrupted by the
reasoning behind the insane request. "You cast two unforgivables. One you might
have gotten away with, if it was badly cast, but two well cast, one being the
killing curse, and even you won't be able to escape Azkaban. You can get
another wand, and come collect your wand from me during our next meeting,
whenever that will be."
Harry rapidly thinks, and decides the knowledge needed to get Sirius back is
worth the chance Voldemort will kill him with his own wand. He tosses the dark
lord his wand.
"I'm interested in what you will become." Voldemort says, and Harry is not
surprised when he is hit with a crucio, and left panting in agony as Voldemort
disappears, only seconds before the Order and Dumbledore show up. He inwardly
smirks as they rush up to him.
"She got away." He croaks up at Remus. "Took my wand."
With that he slumps into his godfather's werewolf mate's arms, the man who
would be his second godfather if not for his monthly affliction, knowing he is
safe, and knowing he can see if Voldemort's information is as reliable as it
sounds.
                                 ~*~[hell]~*~
Harry doesn't go back to the Dursley's house that summer, not after finding out
about the prophecy and seeing them reveal to his hated relatives the passing of
his beloved godfather. Instead, Harry gets himself a room at an inn called The
Slaughtered Witch for the summer in Knocturne Alley, under a different name,
and no one questions his late hours and the fact he never removes his black
hooded cloak.
He spends the first few weeks doing research, reading up on necromancy, and
emancipation law, and general magical history and traditions. By the end of
July, he has managed to get himself emancipated, gotten his lordships earlier
that he should have, started learning dark magic, and been to the reading of
his godfather's will, which left everything to him, including Grimmauld Place.
No one is still there with Sirius dead, because they need the owners permission
to reside in the house, and Harry refuses to give it.
He threatens to fire Kreacher after the second attempt on his life, and then he
hires a few other house elves to help him clean the place. Mute is, as his name
implies, unable to speak, but he is good at house keeping, and better at making
sure Kreacher cannot steal all the dark objects and books. The locket of
Slytherin has the same feeling as the Diary of Tom Riddle, and Harry easily
secures Kreacher's loyalty by promising to destroy it. With Kreacher's new
loyalty, and the combined powers of Winky, Mute, Valsi, and Rave, the removal
of Walburga's horrible portrait is easy. Harry burns it with feindfire in the
backyard.
Along with the black fortune comes full control over the sister accounts,
including the Malfoys and Bellatrix Black's own vaults. He nearly empties out
one of hers buying nutritional potions, books, and new clothes, both magical
and muggle just to spite her. It is in this vault he finds a cup like the
locket, and the Black Necromancy Grimoire containing the information Voldemort
gave to him the night of Sirius's death.
                                 ~*~[hell]~*~
Harry reads and rereads the grimoire until he has memorized every word, every
letter, and every stain of the human skin bound book. He makes his move the
night following his birthday, using the secret passage from the Shrieking shack
in Hogsmeade to get to the Forbidden forest, where the only herd of Thestrals
he knows of resides. It is easy to find an old dying Thestral, and easier still
to gain permission from the creature to steal it's heart. He waits until the
Thestral draws in its last breath to plunge his hand into its chest, and he
rips the still warm organ from its chest as it beats its very last beat.
The first bite is the worst, like eating stringy raw slightly spoiled steak,
and every bite is a struggle. He nearly empties his stomach after he manages
the last bite, but he forces it back down. The Thestrals surrounding him make a
terrible noises around him, flapping their skeletal bat wings ferociously as
Harry stands. That's when the pain hits.
It is like being hit by multiple cruicios at once, like being rolled around
through broken glass, having barbed wire pulled trough every vein and artery,
and having acid poured over him all at once. There is no escape from the agony,
and his body bends and contorts itself in ways he would never be able to do
himself, and his mouth opens in a silent scream. It could last for seconds,
hours, or days, but it is dawn by the time he finds himself again, and the
Thestrals are all still watching him.
He slowly stands up, shaking with the bone deep ache leftover, and finds his
magic easily leaping to his fingertips so he can conjure a mirror. His
suspicion that the ritual would change his looks is easily confirmed. His hair
is straighter and neater, though certainly not neat by any means. It is more
devil-may-care, just rolled out of bed after a nice shag, than  the sloppy
windswept birds nest it had been. It's darker too, less brunette black and more
ebony, and longer, brushing his shoulders and falling in his face. He doesn't
need his glasses anymore, and his eyes are no longer his mother's emerald, but
killing curse green like he painted his irises with iridescent candy apple ink.
He is taller, paler, his cheekbones are sharper, his lashes longer, his nose
slimmer, and his body is healthier and nothing but lean muscle. The book did
say he would be healed by the ritual, and he has been taking nutrition potions
all summer, so that is no surprise, but the sharp black nails, vampiric teeth,
and the few thin white streaks in his hair are unexpected.
One of the Thestrals nudges his arm, and he pets its head instinctively. He
watches the skeletal bat-like horses eat their recently deceased herd mate with
no fear, only a detached sort of curiosity. Harry waits until they are done
before leaving back to his home.
The proof of the ritual working was obvious the second he entered the door.
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