The Devil's Son

Chaos

The scream echoed through the room, bouncing against the now bare shelves and walls. Portraits and trinkets of every shape and colour littered the floor, most now cracked and broken. Fawkes had long since flown off, leaving Albus alone in the centre of the chaos. The ancient Wizard looked older than ever, the usual twinkle in his eyes finally going out. This, with the heavy bags beneath his half moon glasses only further accentuated the dispair the headmaster felt. He'd been unable to sleep properly for well over a year now, constant dreams now haunting even his waking moments. The memory of Gellert followed him everywhere now, sometimes the handsome young boy he'd fallen for, other times the man he'd fought. More recently, and ever increasingly it had taken the form of his aged lover, starving and in pain as though he had appeared straight from the cells of Nurmengard. The guilt was somehow worse than the dear, and Albus was ready to give up. It all seemed so hopeless now. As he looked around the ruins of his office, he thought back to what events had led him to this dark abyss.

Unsurprisingly it had all started with Harry Potter. Hadrian Morningstar as he was better known within the school. The boys death had shocked the world, even more so when the child's adoptive father could not be found. In fact, it suddenly appeared as if the Morningstars had never existed, the only evidence of them being collective memory. Had it not been for that, Albus may have worried he had gone quite mad. Then again, maybe he was. After the turmoil of the child's death had settled to a mournful hum, Albus realised that any hope he'd had for the boy had left with him. Tom had returned and there was only Albus who could stop him. He'd summoned the order at once, it's numbers thinner than they had once been. Many were dead, Sirius and Remus imprisoned, and some had simply refused to come to his aid. Minerva did not believe that Voldemort was alive, instead claiming that Albus had lost his mind. Severus had also been suspiciously absent, and Dumbledore worried that his loyalties had changed. He unfortunately hadn't been able to address this, as Voldemort decided to strike immediately. People were going missing. Of course no one could connect it to the Dark, but Albus knew. Wizards of influence and power could be taken from anywhere, their homes, busy streets, quiet alleys. Alone or surrounded by people, they would step into a shadow and never be seen again. The demon was behind this. Snatching anyone that opposed Tom. It was too much power for one man to have but he always had been power-hungry, ever since Albus had met him as a child. It was only a matter of time until he was next. Albus didn't fear death. He feared the demons he would face after.

Hadrian was having the time of his life. Well not life, but it wasn't really death either... Hadrian was have a very good time. 73. That was the number of dumbass wizards he had tortured and taken under Tom's new plans, and the chaos it left behind was thrilling. The ministry was in utter panic, not only trying to track down the missing wizards, but also hoping to keep this knowledge from the public. Thanks to Lucius Malfoy however, Skeeter would soon find herself well informed of the situation. Of course, they would go on denying the return of the dark lord, even with the ramblings of Dumbledore. They wouldn't face the truth until it was too late to stop it.

Occasionally he'd visit Hogwarts, watching over his friends. He was proud to say that Dumbledore seemed to be deteriorating by the day, the man looking older and more fragile than ever before. Honestly, Snape hadn't been looking any better. Despair was the only word that truly described the man's expression, and Hadrian couldn't tell if it was from guilt or fear. He had no further use for the man, but Severus didn't need to know that. Best to keep him on his toes. He released a dark chuckle at that, drawing the attention of the many fearful death eaters that stood before him. "Are we amusing you Chaos?" Hadrian moved over to stand beside Tom, grinning. "Not at all, this is very serious."

Voldemort smirked up at the demon, equally amused by the nervous shuffling of his followers. He'd become used the the creatures near-constant presence by now, but his death eaters remained as terrified as ever. He'd found that once he'd accepted this deal, he had no reason to fear the creature. A bond had formed, a friendship almost. They were both thrilled by the chaos and darkness that was growing with their actions, though for very different reasons. Each move brought Tom one step closer to his goal, the freedom of magic, and of course, utter control of the magical world. Yes, they would bow down to him, every single on of them, even if it meant he would bow to this demon as well.

Pain. That was all Remus could register other than the ringing in his ears. The blast had been strong enough to knock him down, and Sirius was out cold. The werewolf knew he'd been here for around five months, the moon and his changed being the only marker of the passage of time. He hadn't expected to be here that long, believing either the dementors would take him, or that he would be 'put down'. He certainly hadn't expected to ever leave the cell, but here he was, laying amongst the rubble of Azkaban's stone walls, where death eaters had attacked. He could just about see through the rising dust, old Death Eaters, wizards who were never supposed to see the light of day, leaving there cells and heading towards their fellow sickos. They began to walk towards him, and he rushed over to Sirius, hurriedly shaking him awake. "Sirius, Pads please wake up, we need to go." The man didn't move, and only then did Remus notice the trickle of blood at his temple. His friend had hit his head pretty hard, and wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. A part of him wanted to leave anyway, to abandon Sirius and escape, but any choice was taken from him by the looming shadows that fell over the pair. The last thing he saw was the grinning skull mask of a death eater before his vision was consumed by a bright green light, leading only to nothingness.

The world was going to shit. Even the muggles were noticing, their governments warning people to stay safe and remain calm. The wizarding world was in shambles, many desperately attempting to leave the country, hoping to escape what was to come. After the attack on Azkaban it could no longer be denied that You Know Who had returned, stronger than ever. To many that had lived through the first war, this had been the unthinkable, the worst of the worst. No one could possibly imagine the horrors that awaited them. The monsters lurking in the dark.

He was home. The heat of the fires around him was nothing compared to the warm embrace of his family. Of the proud smile on his uncles faces, the tearful joy of his father. Here they stood at the gates of hell, united, preparing to do what had not been done since the very dawn of humanity. On the other side of the river Styx, Voldemort lay waiting for a demon to come forward. He had no idea what was truly coming. With one last look at his father, he shifted back to his human form, stepping off the boat and walking towards the light.

He stepped out, grinning at the shock the Wizards awaiting faces. Before him stood the disparaged and hopeless light, Dumbledore and his followers stripped of magic and forced to kneel before him. They had not been expecting their saviour to come forward. "Harry, my boy, please you can stop this, stop him." Clearly the madness had gotten to him, not comprehending that the child before him was supposed to be dead. Tom stepped forward, evidently attempting to hide his confusion behind a mask of superiority. "Well well, young Harry Potter. I must say, I'm rather surprised to see you in hell. From the faces of those around him, he wasn't the only one, excluding Snape, who looked exhausted. Hadrian smiled brightly. "Oh, you shouldn't be Dark Lord, you called me here yourself." His smile shifted, becoming darker and wider, until there was no denying exactly what he was. "The demon." Shocked gasps echoed, and Hade giggled slightly at the chaos he was creating. "Harry Potter died a long time ago, and he will not return. My brethren however..." On cue, the Princes of Hell stepped out of the shadows, growling and howling in amusement and the fearful cries their appearance received. In only a moment they lunged forward, claws and teeth ripping and tearing into the flesh of the light soldiers. They did not stop until fresh wet blood stained the ground red, leaving horrified death eaters staring. "Their suffering shall resume in hell, where they belong. All sinners belong to our kind." His words were received with worried looks and shifting glances. "We had a deal, Demon. I gave you my soul and in return you give us the war!" Hadrian only nodded, still wearing the fragile innocent form of Harry Potter, with a cruel smile so out of place. "And so I have. The world has fallen to the dark. And so it is time for my kind to rise." He didn't say another word, didn't need to as the ground shook and cracked, flames reaching up to the now darkened sky. A swarm of demons and beasts, a gaping maw swallowing the world whole.

Asmodeus closed the book of the damned, looking down at the sleeping child beside him. The toddler had quickly grown used to his appearance, and had since refused to leave the Lust demons side. Asmodeus didn't mind though, not now that he knew just what the child was. With an almost affectionate smile, he moved the boys hair from his eyes, revealing a lightning scar on his forehead, a burnt pentagram on his temple. To think this innocent young mortal would one day grow to become the king of hell, to take his rightful place in the ninth circle. Asmodeus shook his head, he was getting ahead of himself. The child was young. That could wait. For now, he would rest. Soon the world would know what had come, the day they had abandoned Harry Potter.