Hadrian Potter: The Dark Lord of House Azaroth

Chapter 1

The air was thick with tension as Harry Potter stood amidst the crumbling ruins of London, his heart pounding in his chest. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he raised his wand, sweat and dirt mixing on his brow. The clash between him and Voldemort had escalated beyond anything he had ever faced. The Death Eaters surrounded him like wolves, their faces twisted with cruel smirks, each wand trained on him. The city itself was a battlefield now—buildings toppled, streets split open, and the air hummed with dark magic.

"You can't win this, Potter!" Voldemort's voice echoed through the chaos, cold and calculating, carrying that maddening mixture of amusement and malice. He stood at the heart of his circle of loyal followers, his snake-like eyes gleaming in the twilight. "Your fight is over. You've failed, just like all who've dared oppose me."

Harry's hand trembled, gripping his wand tightly. His mind raced, searching for any spell, any tactic that might turn the tide. He had fought battles before, but this felt different. The odds were stacked too high. The very air felt poisoned by Voldemort's dark presence. Death Eaters fired hexes and curses from every angle, each one countered by Harry, but with every deflection, his strength waned.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, but it barely bought him a second. Voldemort flicked his wrist effortlessly, deflecting the spell as if swatting a fly. His laughter rang through the streets, cold and chilling. The Death Eaters joined in, jeering as Harry struggled.

"Is this the best the Chosen One can do?" Lucius Malfoy sneered, his aristocratic face twisted into a derisive smirk. His pale hair, usually so well-groomed, was disheveled from battle, and his cold gray eyes gleamed with a dark satisfaction. "This is the boy who was meant to defeat our Dark Lord?"

"Crucio!" another Death Eater hissed, and Harry only barely managed to dodge the searing curse that shot past him, cracking the cobblestones as it hit the ground.

Harry could feel the weight of hopelessness pressing down on him, his vision blurring as exhaustion took hold. He fired back with everything he had—Blasting Curses, Stunning Spells, even the Patronus Charm—but the Death Eaters closed in like a tightening noose. His Patronus, once a powerful stag, flickered in and out of existence, its silver light dimming as his energy faded.

"You've fought well, Potter," Voldemort said, his voice dripping with mockery as he raised his wand high. "But now, it's time you learned what true power looks like."

With a swift, fluid motion, Voldemort pointed his wand toward the sky. The clouds above darkened, swirling in a maelstrom of unnatural force. Harry's eyes widened, the raw power emanating from Voldemort unlike anything he had ever seen. The Death Eaters stepped back, watching in reverence as their master conjured something truly terrible.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry dodged the killing curse, his instincts keeping him alive for a moment longer. But Voldemort's cruel smile deepened, knowing it was only a matter of time. The street beneath Harry cracked and exploded as more curses rained down, the sheer number of attackers overwhelming. He spun, casting Protego, but the shield shattered under the onslaught.

"Look around, Harry," Voldemort sneered, "everything you've fought for—gone. Your precious Order, your friends—they'll all perish. I'll raze this city to the ground, and no one will remember you as a hero."

Harry's breath hitched in his throat, his chest tight with despair. Ron and Hermione's faces flashed in his mind, the Weasleys, even Dumbledore. All the people who had believed in him, fought beside him. Was this really the end?

In a final act of desperation, Harry pointed his wand toward Voldemort. "Expecto Patronum!" he cried, pouring everything he had left into the spell. The stag erupted from his wand once more, its hooves thundering against the shattered street. It charged at Voldemort, but this time, the Dark Lord didn't even flinch.

"Enough," Voldemort whispered.

With a wave of his wand, the Patronus shattered into a thousand silver shards, dissolving into the air.

Harry staggered backward, his legs buckling under the strain. His wand felt heavy in his hand, almost like lead. He could barely lift it now.

Voldemort raised his wand high, his expression one of twisted satisfaction. "Now, Potter," he said, his voice rising, "witness the fall of your world."

The spell Voldemort cast next was unlike anything Harry had seen before. Dark energy spiraled from the tip of his wand, growing, expanding, until it reached the heavens. The sky itself seemed to tear open, a dark, roiling vortex forming above. Harry's heart raced as he realized what was happening.

"No..." Harry whispered, his voice barely audible.

The Death Eaters cheered as the dark energy coalesced into an enormous sphere of pulsating magic, crackling with malevolent power. Voldemort held it above them all like a dark sun, its energy so intense that it felt like the entire atmosphere was collapsing in on itself.

"Watch closely, Potter. This... is your failure."

With a final, triumphant flourish, Voldemort released the sphere.

It descended like a meteor, crashing into the city with a deafening roar. The explosion was instantaneous, a blinding flash of light followed by a shockwave that obliterated everything in its path. Buildings crumbled to dust, streets were torn apart, and the very earth quaked beneath the raw force of Voldemort's spell.

Harry was thrown off his feet, his body hurled through the air like a rag doll. He landed hard, pain exploding through his ribs as he skidded across the ground. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. The world around him was nothing but chaos—fire, ash, screams.

Through the haze of pain, Harry could hear Voldemort's voice, distant but clear, carried on the wind like a haunting melody.

"This is the future, Potter. The wizarding world is mine! The Ministry, the Order, even Hogwarts... they will all fall before me. And you... you will be remembered not as a hero, but as a failure."

Voldemort's laughter echoed in the distance, a manic, gleeful sound that chilled Harry to the bone.

As Harry lay there, his body broken and his wand barely within reach, he saw the black-clad figures of the Death Eaters begin to vanish one by one. Voldemort was the last to disappear, his cold red eyes locking onto Harry's before he gave one final, triumphant laugh and vanished into the night.

Silence fell over the ruins of London. The city lay in ruin, and Harry was alone, surrounded by the devastation.

For a moment, there was nothing but the crackle of distant fires and the soft rustle of the wind through the broken streets. Then, far off in the distance, Harry could hear the sound of approaching footsteps—many footsteps. Aurors.

Within minutes, the survivors of the Ministry's elite forces arrived, their faces pale with shock at the destruction before them. Harry tried to push himself up, but his strength failed him. The Aurors swarmed around him, their expressions filled with a mixture of disbelief and horror.

One of them, a tall, stern-looking man with a graying beard, stepped forward and pointed his wand at Harry.

"Check his wand," he ordered sharply.

Harry's eyes widened in confusion and alarm as another Auror approached, taking his wand from his limp hand. They muttered incantations, and Harry felt a cold chill run through him as the results appeared.

"This is it," the Auror said gravely. "His wand... it's the one that cast the destruction spell."

"What? No!" Harry rasped, his voice weak. "It wasn't me! It was Voldemort!"

The Auror's eyes narrowed. "Save your lies for the Wizengamot, Potter. You're under arrest for the murder of millions and the destruction of the United Kingdom."

Harry's heart sank. The world spun as they bound his hands, dragging him to his feet. His mind reeled, the reality of what had just happened hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Voldemort had done this. Voldemort had won. And now, Harry would take the fall for it all.

As the Aurors led him away, the ruins of London smoldered in the distance, and Voldemort's laughter echoed in Harry's mind, louder than ever.