Dark Prince [Harry Potter AU fanfiction]

│PROLOGUE : SPIRITED AWAY│

It was a time of fear and suffering- the time when the Dark Lord Voldemort reigned. He and his Death Eaters- the merciless cold-blooded killers, the malicious followers of the Dark- ruthlessly massacred hundreds of thousands of muggles and wizardkind alike. Their attacks were swift and decisive, leaving the entire Wizarding world trembling in fear for their lives, agonizing over the thought that they could be next.

Armed with nefarious schemes and a warped mindset, one had little to no chance of surviving an encounter with a Death Eater, much less the Dark Lord himself. The number of men who had survived a duel with the Dark Lord could be counted alone on one hand.

Few lived to tell the tale of the bloodshed they witnessed, the pure monstrosity the followers possessed and the abominable destruction they left in their wake. They raided villages and homes, leaving behind burning houses dancing amid green flames, charred bodies littering the floor.

Even one, of the name Albus Dumbledore, was unable to deny the fear that the Death Eaters struck in the hearts of the people. Albus Dumbledore was the leader of the Light, a strong believer in sacrificing 'for the greater good'. While many saw him as a role model, a powerful being that could do no wrong, he was far from it. He was an extremely flawed man with a manipulative streak, and that 'grandfatherly' spark and glimmer in his warm blue eyes were only a warning of when you had played right into his hands, like a pawn in a chess game.

There was little Albus was afraid and wary of. So, one certainly would take extra precaution when it was said that Albus was fearful of the Dark, especially their leader. But driven by his motto for "the greater good", he devised a plan- constructed it ever so carefully, a guaranteed foolproof plan- a trap to lure Lord Voldemort in. He knew that Lord Voldemort was not a reckless man, but when it came to power, even such a cautious man could make a mistake. Dumbledore was certain of it- that he would be the one to bring the Dark to their knees, once their Dark Lord fell. He would be hailed the savior of the Wizarding World, the bane of two dark lords.

But then it all went wrong. Severus Snape had reported in with the wrong information, assuring Dumbledore that it would be safe to call the Potters to his office that very evening. There was supposed to be a raid the following morning, in the early hours of the day before the sun rose.

At the height of the war, every Order member mattered. Inside information  could be leaked easily if not transmitted in person, leading to the death of such valuable pawns. Dumbledore, overcome with paranoia during such a critical period of time in the war, insisted on seeing the members in person.

So that night, the Potters (after being reassured by Dumbledore himself) had entrusted their dear childhood friend- Peter- to look after their firstborn child so that they could receive the news in person on what they were to do the next day to combat against the raid that was to come.

And while Dumbledore had met with them, a certain Harry Potter was left under the care of a man named Peter Pettigrew. If only Dumbledore had forgone such unnecessary measures in lieu of his paranoia, the end result would have turned out very much different.

It was on that night- Halloween, the 31st- that young Harry Potter was taken away from his home, by the one whom they had never once suspected. Perhaps it was fate looking upon the Dark- for there were literally no obstacles faced when the boy was taken away-, or perhaps it was simply coincidence that Dumbledore had chosen that evening of all evenings to call the Potters in. Either way, Harry Potter was gone, spirited away in the dead of the night.

They never saw him again, for he was believed to be dead, another infant which had fallen under the Dark Lord's reign.

On All-Hallows Eve, indeed, it was believed that the Dark Lord had fallen, for the Dark had fallen entirely silent that very night, crept away silently and withdrawn from the Magical Britain. The raid that was set to occur the very next day never happened. It didn't occur the day after, nor the days that followed. After a month of no activity, people began rejoicing, for the Dark Lord Voldemort's reign had finally concluded. Nobody knew how or cared why the Dark Lord had abruptly stopped when he was so close to winning the war in Magical Britain, and were just simply glad that they had managed to survive such dark times.

Yet when they were all celebrating with their finest champagne, the Potter household was silent. Lily and James Potter grieved for their lost child, hands clutching at an empty crib, head bowed before an empty grave.

The war had been stopped, but they had lost their son, their world. It took a long time before they came to terms with their loss, before they finally accepted the death of their firstborn. But they never stopped mourning.

The world believed him dead. And for the next fifteen years, they continued in blissful ignorance.

It would be a long time before they saw Harry James Potter again- and witnessed the true evil the Dark Lord was capable of.