Silk Roads

Chapter 1

Summary: When the road you're on is already in the verge of crumbling, you could either choose to foolishly continue onward, or turn back and change paths. Harry decided on the latter. MoD!Harry

Pairings: Older Harry/Voldemort, other side pairings

Warning: AU, Time-Travel, Universe Hopping, New Identity, Slash (this means Boy/Boy), MasterOfDeath!Harry, Killings/Torture

Disclaimer: If I were the author of Harry Potter, Dumble would have chocked on a Lemon and drop dead, not AK-ed. So no, I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 1: Traveling through space and time

In a barely lit room with only an unmade bed and a dark-tainted window, there was a man sitting on a cushioned throne, simply staring outside blankly. A stranger that has never laid eyes upon him would even mistaken him for a doll, if his chest were not moving that is.

Other than his youthful appearance of a late teen, he represents a weary old man with jaded scarlet eyes behind those round framed rose-tinted glasses perched atop his nose. His whole being ripples with barely tamed power at random intervals, distorting the air that surrounds him in an almost chaotic yet lazy manner.

The state of the air outside his homely wards were polluted, forcing him to wear his neoprene half-mask that was charmed with an air-ventilator charm –which he was currently laying on his nightstand– if he wishes to go hunting for food or entertainment.

He missed the sky that was once upon a time blue–now an awful shade of dark green with a tint of black, or the ocean that used to be so vast and beautiful, now just a desolated wasteland of sand and bones. He could no longer stand the sight of his crumbling planet, so he hid the ugliness behind his rose-tinted glasses that he had stolen many decades ago.

Gaia's fate had long been decided. She would crumble. No matter how much she cried or pleaded with him in her bouts of insanity. He had learnt the hard way how to ignore her pleas, lest She broke his mind. Even with all the power the man held within the palm of his hand, he could never produce an offspring to help his dying Planet without a partner who isn't infertile. The other reason would be that he fears being involved –not that he would openly admit it– as he has not had any good human contact in his life; more so after being forcefully restrained on a cold metal table where he was littered with incisions on a daily basis.

He had developed a condition called merinthophobia, much to his disgust and self-hatred.

The man –for that was what he is, and he could never be called a boy even if he were to look the part– turned towards his only companion on his lap; a common garter snake that he had stumbled across, and started to hiss out a random conversation to distract his wondering mind from those awful skin breaking wires they called restraints.

Just as his state of mind began to waver in his usual bouts of insanity, a dark mist started to form out of the corner of his eyes. This caused his damaged mind sharpen and focus, wanting and sincerely hoping that it was someone or something magical.

His wish was soon answered when a hooded figure was formed, its cloak billowing eerily and its hood shading its features. The cloaked figure was tall; around six three, and thin.

They both stared at one another behind their shades before the man with the piercing scarlet eyes spoke up.

"State your name and purpose of your visit." His voice was raspy from years of disuse, but it still came out strong and demanding. The man's accent was unusual, if one were to not know he had talked in the tongue of serpents for decades.

"I am Death." The cloaked being introduced itself with a somewhat airy and carefree tone.

The man conjured a needle and nicked himself on his forearm. It had itched. He dropped the needle and watched as it disappeared just before touching the ground with disinterest.