Year 1996: Location Uncharted…

Darkness and death ruled in this realm of desolation. There was no escaping the devouring of light or life. Here, in this world, even its own creator did not go unscathed. For whilst the obscuring nature of this world greatly swayed the odds into his favor, such odds hardly matter in the face of the adversaries that he faced here. Blood has soaked the earth, both his own and his prey's.

Reflections of ruin shattered as the hunter's form crashed through the window. The shards raining down around him as he rolled over the floor and landed in a low crouch. The sound of fracturing was accompanied by a metallic whirring. Dark steel glinted as a clawed tip lashed through the air and the hunter rose to his feet even as the grappling hook finished reeling in.

The barbed blades that adorned the hook itself retracted with a snap just before they met his wrist. The unrelentingly swift wire drew the projectile with it as it vanished into the hunter's sleeve. A mechanical click resounded from the underside of his forearm even as he casually allowed it to drift to his side. His gait was calm and uncaring as he stalked into the penthouse apartment.

The long thin sword made from demonic alloys in his right hand gleamed sadistically on its own accord as blood slowly dripped from its blade of crimson metal. It had tasted the ichor that flowed through an angel's veins and it yearned for more. The surface of the eager blade rippled like disturbed waters and it loosed a voiceless whisper into its wielder's mind. Guiding him towards his prey.

He was long since used to the way his weapon lead him towards further bloodshed. It was more a sense of intuition rather than direction that the blade gave him. As long as the blood that coated it was fresh, his target could never hide from him. And therefore, he took all the more pleasure in using said ability to prolong the hunt. His weapon allowed him to toy with his prey.

The hunter's green eyes swept over the once luxurious apartment, taking in the state of decay that had ravished it. Clouds of dust swirled around his feet as he disturbed the thick layers that coated the floors. His left hand moved down to his side and brushed aside his ashen gray coat. His fingers enclosed around a smooth wooden handle and withdrew it from the holster that rested on the small of his back.

His hand moved back down to his side with a fluid grace as he walked up to the window at the other side and gazed out to a sight that was most familiar to him. A ruined city, still burning in hellfire. The air itself was tainted and the sun blocked out by a thick mixture of fog and clouds of ash. A vindictive smirk spread over his lips as he waited patiently.

From outside the window, his dark silhouette could be seen clearly even as it reflected the image of hell on earth. A pair of wings, clad in pristinely white feathers spread outward from behind him. A golden light of holy fire illuminated the room, encasing his form in a halo of divinity.

Scarlet drops of blood hung in the air in a singular moment. The hunter's unholy blade hissing violently as it traversed the air. The golden flames dying in the hand of the forearm that the sword had cleanly severed. His ashen cloak still whirling around his body as the hunter completed the crescent swipe of his weapon.

The angel adorned in armor as though in ivory clad let out a howl of pain as his already wounded arm was taken from him. The angel's pure blue eyes looked as though one had captured water itself within his irises. Even such beauty widened in horror as they met eyes that gleamed a sickening green. Four holes as though cut from the void greeted the angel as the barrels of the hunter's firearm glowed with an infernal light.

The hunter's lips quirked upward in amusement as he pulled the trigger. In such close proximity the angel actually felt the hairs on his body stand on edge from the charge that built up. The world seemingly slowed to a crawl as a wave of crimson lightning surged and crackled over the surface of the heavily modified Lancaster Pistol.

And with a roar like thunder tearing the sky asunder, the magically accelerated hand-cannon unleashed its payload at point blank range. The solid metal slug of a canister slammed into the angel's helmet with enough force to actually shatter the angelic alloys that it was composed of. The angel's neck snapped backwards violently as the round drove hard enough into its target to lift it off of the ground.

With a heavy crash the angel slammed into the far wall even as glass rained down onto the floor once more. The shock wave that the firearm had created had blown out all of the windows in the apartment. The report of the shot resounded like a roiling storm as it echoed loudly throughout the city below. The angel's mutilated and mangled body fell to the floor with a clanging of armor.

What had once been pure, sincere and honest eyes that were like the glittering waves of a lake in the midst of summer. Were now filled solely with pain and questioning despair as now instead waves of scarlet flowed over the angel's broken face. Shards of angelic steel had been driven into his cheeks and jawline.

"...why?" The angel beseeched through burst and bloodied lips. The motion itself had been arduous and clearly intensely painful. The angel's lips were further stained as he coughed up blood and groaned as he started to slowly get back up shakily.

The hunter looked down cruelly upon his prey and gave him a lopsided grin with a look in his eyes that reeked of bloodlust. He spread his arms wide to the sides. His revolving pistol pointed towards the earth in his left hand and the Blade of Hell in his right pointed straight at the heavens.

"Not because I have to," Harry humored the angel easily and his body was displaying a carefree and relaxed stance as he shrugged. His gaze trailed out over the burning city as he spoke calmly with determination in his eyes. "rather, I end your life so that my own can move forward. So that that the mortal realm may be purged in hellfire, and your precious heaven will soon join it in extinction."

"You-you are mortal, a mere human." The angel stuttered as he tried to sound as strong as he truly was, but his eyes belied his disbelief and sorrowful confusion. He was now on his feet, but hunched over as his remaining hand clutched tightly to the still bleeding stump that remained of his right arm. "What reason do you have to hate us as such? You are no sinner, I can see that your soul is still pure. Your flesh has been twisted by hell and it has defiled your mind. Even so, your hatred cannot be founded in reason."

"You're right." Harry said as he viciously kicked the angel hard across the face, once more sending the angel down to the floor. The hunter's footsteps echoed as he walked over to the edge of the broken window and started to pace back and forth as he spoke once more calmly. "I have no real reason to truly hate you. I do what I do, for the woman that I love."

"L-love?" The angel repeated in shock as he breathed wheezily. He solemnly shook his head in resigned sadness. "What kind of vile seductress of a woman could have lead you so astray?"

"One that is infinitely better than the illusion you call 'heaven'." Harry informed his prey with disgust even as his eyes displayed a dedicated warmth, whilst a faint smile clashed horribly with his tone. "For you were nowhere to be found when I needed you most. She was the one who saved me, gave me purpose and a will to continue living. No matter what."

"I see now." The angel spoke serenely as his hand was filled with a sphere of golden flame. The glow of the holy ball of fire was incomparable to the flames that the angel had previously wielded. A strangely pleasant heat was roiling and distorting the air around them. "You are too set on your path and it will only lead you to the misery of innumerable lives. Before, I foolishly tried to subdue you to allow you a chance at redemption. I see now that I should never have bothered."

"You never stood a chance either way." Harry replied unconcerned as his thumb moved up the side of his firearm. Where a tear-shaped ruby had been crafted into the revolving pistol's selector. Upon his flesh meeting the gemstone, a minute spark of demonic energy moved from within him into the gem. Which started to glow with a hellish light.

Rays of faint amber started to pour out from within the broken far wall. The light intensified into a burning orange as Harry spread his arms wide and allowed himself to fall backwards off the edge of the penthouse apartment. The golden light that saturated the entire floor of the top of skyscraper was completely devoured as the blinding orange light turned white-hot and the high-explosive round detonated.

Even as the wind started to get more intense as Harry started to pick up speed, he still felt the heat of the wave of fire that erupted from every side of the building. The billowing flames consuming every last inch of the top of the skyscraper. Harry just continued facing up towards the fire with his back to the earth as he fell. His ashen cloak whipping madly around him as the wind tore into him.

He smirked in anticipation when he saw the angel burst out of the fire, wreathed in flame and holy force. The angel's faith was more than strong enough to withstand normal fire. But, the ivory armor was now charred and marred by the explosion. The angel soared out into the sky above, before spinning slowly in a wide circle and spread his wings in one majestic wing beat. The motion causing the golden energy that had coalesced around the angel to be released in cascading shower of glittering flakes and embers.

Still wearing that cocky smirk, Harry turned around to face the earth, leaving his back exposed to his foe and folded his arms to his sides as he dove. The wind howled with a sound that threatened to overcome his own thoughts as he accelerated. His green eyes almost seemed to glow with energy as the adrenalin flooding his body invigorated him to a point that he felt truly alive.

And so with a mind focused solely on the death of angels, those very same eyes locked on to a metal beam that jutted out of the side of the building. Whether the beam had come from it, or had been lodged in there, was unclear. What mattered is that Harry knew from experience that it was secure enough to allow him to use his favorite maneuver.

With a lashing of his arm and a flick of his wrist, the grappling hook shot out and wound itself tight around the beam. He dove now instead to the side and awaited the moment that this hunt would end with.

Fiercely did the wire pull at his limb, but as he strengthened the blood inside of his arm, that very same strength allowed him keep the limb that would have otherwise been torn off. Instead he now felt all of the force of his fall transfer into a pendulum motion as he swung and launched himself back up the building.

A faint silver glow swirled around his boots as he called for the aid of the spirits of the wind that had been bound to them. Even as he shot upward toward the diving angel, Harry's feet set down upon the glass windows of the building and with a controlled burst of wind he only went faster and faster with each step.

Reflections shattered as the hunter sprinted up the side of a building. Every step breaking the windows beneath his feet. The diving angel swept out and away from the building as he spread his majestic wings. Harry's pace was not impeded by the wall of golden flame that was beset upon him. A writhing haze of crimson erupted from the center of his chest and spread outward to cover his entire being.

The demonic energy hissed like enraged serpents as the unholy force annihilated the purifying flames of heaven. Crimson strands lingered to his rushing form as his speed was abated and he found that he had ascended to a point higher than the angel now was. Both of his feet were planted against the building before he kicked himself off into a back-flip.

The hunter soared through the air and a wicked grin took over him as he moved in for the kill. His graceful arc through the sky ended with a twirling slash above his prey. Demonic steel gleamed with wanton bloodlust as the hunter's form blended in with the ash-filled sky. Innocent, pure white was forevermore stained with scarlet as the Blade of Hell cut with ease through the angel's back and tore off one of his wings.

A horrid scream rent the air as the angel screamed his throat hoarse and fell from damned skies. His one remaining wing causing him to spiral out of control and his descent ensured his fate. His killer had already vanished without a sign into the cursed darkness that was only pierced by the flames of hell.

White feathers stood out defiantly against the shadows as they floated serenely through the tainted air. The final innocence had been lost this night and the first shedding of angelic blood in centuries would only herald a thirst for more.

A bloodied hand reached for the heavens above as his broken wing spasmed and jerked violently. Rain answered the angel's mangled and defeated form that could only lay still and try to endure the pain that consumed him. His last few hopes were short-lived. Footsteps echoed into the eerily silent night, even the flames that torched the ruined city gave off naught a sound.

Green eyes distinguished themselves from the darkness as they came into view beneath a short mane of unruly black hair. A faded, thin scar in the shape of a lightning bolt was barely present on the hunter's forehead. This was the sight that would haunt the angel in his final moments.

"Your name, angel." Harry demanded rather than asked as he planted his foot on the angel's chest and his green eyes looked down in cruel satisfaction. In one hand he now twirled a white feather between his fingers and the other still held his firearm.

"...Ezekiel." The angel named himself with a note of resigned finality. A small smile was upon his lips as his eyes looked at something both beyond his killer and within. "May my name remind you of what you have, done this night. So that, argh, so that one day, your humanity, may be mended. So I pray, for your sorrow to guide you towards redemption."

Ezekiel's prayer only met those same four voids that had greeted him once before. Despair only took hold for the briefest of instances before the gun loosed a flash of crimson as it fired. The round unceremoniously punched through the angel's skull and sent a shower of gore into the air as it buried into the ground below the corpse. The rain serving to create rivers of blood that flowed down the cracked street.

"Redemption, huh?" Harry repeated as he knelt down and soaked the tip of Ezekiel's in the angel's own blood. His green eyes became resolute as he rose and looked at the evidence of his first angelic slaughter. A small quirky grin turned his lips as he walked away from the corpse and did not turn his head back as he spoke both to the dead angel and to himself into the raining darkness. "I have no need for something like that."

And as he walked away with that very same white feather in his hand, the round detonated and incinerated the angel's body. Scarlet slowly bled into white as it rested in a palm of ashen gray and his last few shreds of perceived innocence died that night...

The folly of life's beauty is not inherently obvious in its nature. Rather the madness lies in how it is forever present. No matter who we are, what we have done, what has befallen us or what is to come. The beauty of the worlds around us exist nonetheless. It cares little for if we experience it or not. Life is by nature, a chaotic state of being. Nothing is ever certain and yet, as long as you know how and where to look, beauty is a certainty to be found.

War, strife, agony, death, sorrow and despair. All of these and many more can deprive us of the will to live or even outright claim our lives. Even in the depths of the darkest abyss, does not a singular moment of peaceful, serene beauty mean all the more to us?

To truly appreciate beauty, one must have given up all hope of ever finding it. For it is when you least expect it that its majesty will take your breath away and astound you beyond your wit's grasp.

May these words give you insight as to what to expect from this tale of mine and I bid you welcome to it...

1987: Privet Drive Number 4: Late afternoon…

"Vernon will be home late this evening and Duddy is out enjoying himself with some of his friends like a normal boy his age should." Petunia Dursley said happily, before her face contorted into a sour frown as she turned to look at the young black haired boy at her side. "I need to go to the store to buy the last ingredients for dinner. You, are to prepare and chop the vegetables while I am gone. After which you will go back to your room. If you do it right, you might be getting some of the leftovers after Vernon's lunchbox has been made for tomorrow. Well, what are you waiting for? Get to it!"

"Yes, aunt Petunia." Harry dutifully agreed with a small nod as he walked towards the kitchen. He could hear his relative leave him alone in the house, a first time for as long as the young boy could remember. His thin body was almost completely hidden beneath the clothes that were too large for him.

With practiced ease, the boy walked into the kitchen and pulled out a chair carefully from the nearby table and set it against the counter. He remembered this time to move aside the cushion from the seat. He needed to eat soon, if Aunt Petunia got upset, he wouldn't get any food at all.

And so the seven year old Harry Potter, climbed up on the chair and opened the drawer he knew had the kitchen knives inside of it. His hand closed around the handle of black wood and took out the sharp blade. Uncaring of the edge, they boy washed off the vegetables that his aunt had tasked him prepare. He peeled the carrots and cut them into pieces as he had watched his aunt do. He only cut himself three times on this occasion.

Hastily the young wizard washed off and cleaned the potatoes that his blood had fallen onto. His wounds did not heal as quickly as they used to. The hunger that tore at the young child deprived him of actually feeling the state of his magical core. The boy worked more like a machine as he barely kept his eyes open as he from time to time wobbled unsteadily.

After a while, his tasks were finished and he returned the chair to the table as he staggered out into the hallway. With easy steps the child walked over to the cupboard underneath the stair's door and opened it, before entering the place in which he slept.

He shuffled into the small cupboard despite his own size and closed the door behind. Darkness took hold and enveloped his senses. Here, his only friends lived, the spiders that had made their own home within his room. Harry sighed into the shadows as he both hated and appreciated the lack of light. He had no problems any longer from being in complete darkness, rather he now found it slightly peaceful.

No, it was his confinement that he hated. He knew by now as well that he had no choice but to stay in this cramped space. Harry leaned back and rested his back against the wall as he let his hands fall down onto the floor. It was his hope that maybe, Aunt Petunia would actually hold true to her word this time. He really needed to eat something soon.

Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and drew him out of his thoughts. A faint yellow glow slowly got stronger as whatever produced it get ever closer. A faint smile came over Harry's lips as a two pairs of spindly legs emerged from the tunnel it had made in the floor of his cupboard. And from within the glowing hole a spider emerged as it crawled out slowly, but surely at its own pace. It stretched its legs as it came into the open and turned to face Harry.

The spider itself had a flat, tear-drop shaped bottom leading up to wider, narrow ridge for a head. Four legs on either side allowed it to skitter and jump agilely. What was interesting to note was that it had two thicker forelegs with clawed tips that folded into themselves as they rested alongside its body. The female spider clicked her mandibles and her forelegs opened and snapped shut in an excited manner.

She leapt up into his outstretched hand and stretched her legs out wide before she laid herself down flat on her stomach. Her rather obvious comfort at being close to him made Harry feel somewhat warm inside. He had only known her for a couple of months, he guessed and yet, it felt as though she had been at his side during those long nights for way longer.

Harry feared for what would happen to his one and only best friend if his family were to find her. He knew that they despised all things that were 'freaky' or 'unnatural'. So of course, they would hate a glowing spider just as much as they hated him. He couldn't understand what made him a 'freak', nor could he see how his beautiful friend could be 'unnatural'. The way her body glowed with a rich saffron color that lit up his dark room with a warm light that eased his pain.

The spider clicked her mandibles and spread her clawed forelegs wide at Harry, before she slowly brought them in towards her mouth.

"No, they haven't given me any food." Harry told her quietly as his hand tried to futilely silence the growl of his empty stomach. The spider's mandibles clicked irritably and folded her legs up against her body. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

His friend seemed to not believe him, as he got the impression that she was rolling her eyes at him. Which was impressive, seeing as she had no eyes to do so with. The front of her body was just a smooth ridge where the eyes of a normal spider would have been placed. Instead there were five tear-drops that glowed with her inner light. Strands moved from the tip of each drop and moved back to drape themselves over her body. Dots and ovals of the same make were spread in between those lines. Making her entire brownish gray body light up with that very same warming saffron.

"Well, it's not like I can do anything about it." He murmured unhappily as he mimicked her unconsciously and pulled his legs up to his chest. His chin rested on his knees as his barely awake eyes were entranced by his friend's beauty. "Aunt Petunia decides if I get food or not and if Dudley has any say in it, I never get any food that he wants. She always does what he wants. He's her son, after all."

His bitter words and his hunger made Harry miss the feeling of her climbing up his leg. He blinked as his friend was suddenly perched on his right knee. He could somehow know that she was narrowing her non-existent eyes at him. She clipped her forelegs shortly, giving off an air of knowledge as she preened before him.

"I don't get how things are ever going to get any better." Harry told her sullenly. "Ow!" He shouted as she poked his chin with a clawed leg.

"What was that for?" He asked her, confused. She rolled her eyes again at him as she clicked haughtily and snapped her legs closed in a scolding fashion.

"Hmph, as though a spider would know any better." Harry said bemusedly with a shake of his head.

She seemed highly affronted at his insult as she raised her head and turned away from him. Her forelegs sheared together as she opened and closed them repeatedly. The strange sound coupled with how her head moved about made it seem like she was talking to herself about Harry. She was tapping her legs against him as she shot him several looks.

"Huh?" Harry remarked eloquently. "What's wrong?"

The spider sighed as she dipped her head and shook it exasperatedly. Her body moved restlessly as she muttered to herself in a way that Harry couldn't quite understand. It seemed like she needed to do something.

"So, uhm, why are you here?" Harry asked her, before he hurriedly added. "Not that I don't want you here, it's just, well…"

She seemed to quirk an eyebrow, or at least, that was what Harry's mind interpreted her expression as and one of her legs darted out to point at his shoulder. The way her leg slowly lowered and how she over-enunciated her bite made it rather evident to Harry what she was after.

"You want to do it again?" Harry asked nonplussed. He thought for a moment before he nodded his assent with just a faint touch of hesitation. "Go for it."

His friend nodded eagerly and the way her mandibles clicked sounded like an excited chirp. Harry leaned his neck to the side as she crawled up his shoulder and he took hold of his sweater's collar to hold it open for her. The spider clicked in thanks as her spindly legs tickled him as she moved down towards a spot just above his right shoulder-blade.

He knew what was coming now as he felt her legs steady her body over his skin. Harry sucked in a breath as he felt her body rise and he hissed quietly when she bit him. Short panting breaths were common for him after the many times that she had bitten him and his skin itched as she came back out from beneath his collar. She clicked happily for some reason as she jumped from his right shoulder to his knee and over to his left and back again.

"At least you're having fun." Harry murmured sleepily as he started to get drowsy. He wobbled even though he was seated rather securely as he started to feel weird.

He was sweating, Harry found out as he wiped his hot forehead and he also noticed that his hand was shaking. His heart started beating faster and faster as his breathing turned shallow and labored. A low growl came from his stomach as it churned worryingly and Harry felt sick as he hurriedly crawled out of the cupboard. His legs buckled beneath him as he staggered towards the bathroom.

It was just in time that he reached it and Harry rushed to the toilet before he emptied what little remained in his stomach. A vile taste clung to his mouth as he couldn't stop shaking. He wasn't in pain and yet his body seemed to believe that he was. Harry just felt hot as he struggled to get up to check his his own reflection. His already weakened body trembled as his hands clenched around either side of the sink, knuckles turning white in the process.

When Harry looked into the mirror, it was to see himself sweating profusely and his skin was a deathly pale. A faint glowing lustre danced around him, it was hard to tell any color, as it seemed to shift randomly all the time as he looked upon himself. It was just a chaotic mess that jerked and spasmed in what looked to be pain before it faded completely. He didn't even notice the feeling of emptiness within himself.

With the disappearance of the weird glow, Harry noticed that he could breathe easier and that he was no longer nauseous. Not even knowing that he had just lost the use of his magical core, most likely forever. He wiped the sweat of his brow and looked back into the mirror. His skin was slowly going back to normal. He breathed out in relief.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked no one in particular.

His friend, a female Magebane spider, crawled up from underneath his collar and clicked her mandibles in a way that Harry understood to mean an apology.

"Why are you sorry?" Harry asked her, bewildered.

The spider shifted guiltily and bowed her head. Harry shrugged indifferently as for to him, it was not possible that she could have been responsible for his sudden sickness. She had bit him several times before. It had only hurt the first time and it had taken quite the while before he trusted her again. But, she came back to him, again and again, night after night. She was the only one that wanted to spend time with him. A little pain was worth the company.

He pulled back his far too large sweater and checked the place just above his shoulder-blade that she had bitten him again. There now was a completed symbol of spider's web made out of scars caused by her teeth. What Harry was unaware of was the fact that the Magebane spider more than deserved its name. Its venom acted as a catalyst for magic, it made it grow rapidly out control. If an adult wizard or witch were to be bitten, it would cause their magical core to critically overload. Within a span of a few minutes, the mage would most likely detonate in a magical explosion sufficient to level an entire city block.

The only reason why Harry was currently not dead, was due to his malnourishment. Had the Dursleys been feeding him properly, the spider would have succeeded in the mission she had been given on the first bite. If that had been so, Privet Drive Nr. 4 would no longer have existed. Harry's body was too weak to produce any sizeable amount of magic and with each passing bite, more and more of the venom coursed through his veins.

Harry took off his glasses and washed his face. He tried to remove any trace of that he had ever been in the bathroom without permission. He was still somewhat shaky and his hands trembled, but otherwise he was fine. He did not know that he had just become the first wizard to ever have a Magebane spider for a familiar and at such an incredibly young age at that.

His familiar and best friend suddenly started to warily look around its surroundings from her perch on Harry's shoulder. Her mandibles clicked worriedly as she shifted nervously.

"Huh, what's wrong?" Harry asked her as he looked down at her without turning his head.

Her forelegs remained at her sides as they opened and closed lamely, as though she did not know what to do. Just as suddenly as she had gotten spooked by something, she darted in under his collar and Harry had to blink from the sharp flash of saffron that came from nowhere.

"What the?" Harry was confounded to find that his hand could not feel a single trace of her on his back. He even took of his suffocating sweater when he couldn't find her. She had vanished, but Harry could see that the spider web on the back of shoulder was glowing softly with her colors.

Where did she go? He thought to himself as he failed to notice that the colors of the world around him started to fade and the air was bleeding… wait, what?

Harry blinked in stupefied confusion and even took off his glasses to rub his eyes. He took a nervous and frightened step back as the air itself turned such a shade and texture of scarlet, that it might as well just be called blood instead. Something pushed at Harry's skin, at first a gentle touch, like a fine summer's breeze or a mother's caress. It was not long until everything around Harry was blood red and when his sight became saturated, the pressure increased to the point that it was crushing him.

He couldn't breathe as he panicked, his body could barely move as he tried to flee. Even with just a little, Harry was able to walk when he wanted to run. His movements were sluggish as though he was wading through mud. The blood was trying to keep him inside of the house. Harry collapsed onto the floor as the pressure stole the air out his lungs. He panted for air that was being denied him.

His hand gripped the carpet and shakily, he stood up. He had to get out. He could see the door. Just a few more steps and he would be free of this! Harry's feet took step after step as his throat and lungs ached. His hand closed around the handle of the front door and he yanked it open. Harry fell down onto the doorstep and rolled out onto the lawn.

The cold autumn air had never felt as great to him as he wheezed and coughed as his lungs greedily sucked in more of it. Soon, Harry just lay panting on the front lawn, wondering what just happened?!

The young wizard couldn't stop himself from moving back and away from the house. His home was completely covered in a blood-red haze that drifted lazily around the building, but never left it. Harry sat on his bum and rested himself against his hands down on the ground behind his back. His frantic green eyes looked around the neighborhood. But apart from a few strange looks being directed his way by passersby, no one was reacting as all, as though they couldn't see that bloody thing!

Harry backed up warily and brushed the dirt of his clothes as he kept an eye on the, the, the bloody air! He didn't know what else to call what he was seeing. Had it always been there and he just not been able to see it? Cause everyone else couldn't see it, just him. He thought just so, because of the fact that the first sensations of this phenomenon's manifestation felt familiar to him. As though he had just not noticed the touch of his mother's sacrifice calling out to him.

Yes, what Harry was currently eyeing like a dangerous and cornered animal was the blood ward created by his mother, Lily Potter. It had been given form and power by her sacrifice to protect her child. It was only later that it had been bound to the house instead of to his own flesh, blood and soul. Hence, why the ward in its limited sentience was unable to truly recognize him when they became aware of one another.

Some faint remains of his mother's soul had left an echo of her presence within the ward's sentience. In other words, a part of Lily Potter remained within the ward itself. This remnant was what what was calling out to Harry. Who in turn felt strangely drawn towards the haze. He could hear someone speak his name with loving care.

Harry didn't know who it was that was calling for him, but the warmth that spread through his chest made him feel like it was alright for him to approach the house again. Slowly his steps brought him closer to the blood ward and it itself was actually struggling to reach out to him from within the limits of its confines. Harry's blood sang warmly with his mother's protection as blood called out to blood.

A fine smile spread over Harry's lips as he reached out with his hand in greeting. As his hand met the sparkling scarlet magic, a lovely heat enveloped Harry's body. His smile grew wider at the feeling. He was not worried even in the slightest as the blood-red magic wrapped itself around his hand and sank into his skin.

A tendril of scarlet connected Harry physically to the ward itself now and from its consistent movement, the ward was actually breaking away from the house. It was trying to bind itself to him once more and in doing what was meant to protect him, it only doomed him instead…

For as the blood magic entered his body in search of his veins so that it could once more bind itself to him, it came into contact with the Magebane venom that was now part of his blood. A pulse of pure, raw magic was the only warning before Harry felt deep in his gut that something had just gone terribly wrong.

The scarlet magic shook erratically and it twitched violently before Harry's startled eyes as it started to chaotically shift colors. It never left the shade of blood, but it darkened and thickened. Before turning a pale shade and thinned. The ward seemed sick as it thrashed wildly, tendrils of scarlet lashing out. Deep trenches were torn into the ground around Harry when the bloody whips of magic gouged the earth.

The house itself was being torn apart as the out of control magic rampaged wildly. Splinters of wood flew as though a tornado had struck the house. Chunks of plaster and brick rained down on the street, car alarms sounding as they too were hit. Harry could hear the shouts of panic as he was frozen in place, not daring to move a single inch from where he stood.

And then it happened, the ward stilled and stayed unmoving. Like the calm before the storm, Harry felt every hair on his body stand on edge as his fight-or-flight response kicked into high gear. He turned and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn't know why, just that something terrible was about to happen.

"Run!" Harry shouted in warning to everyone nearby, to those that had gathered and been awestruck at the sudden destruction.

Their inaction would be their undoing as before Harry's horrified eyes, the ward let out a wail of despair. One that shook the earth as it rent the air. People screamed and covered their ears as scarlet light shone brighter and brighter. Rays like lances cut into the sky as the ward reached a point of no return. The sheer power of the still growing magic was suffocating and overpowering.

And the thrashing ward's tendril-like limbs fell limply to the ground and lost all color.

An all consuming sphere of scarlet tinged white-hot grew from the center of the house and annihilated all that it touched. The people caught in the expanding destruction suffered greatly before they died. Harry could see how their skin just melted and flowed of their bodies as their clothes were incinerated. Their flesh seemed to evaporate, before their bared skeleton crumbled to dust as the scarlet magic swallowed them whole.

Harry once more couldn't breathe as his mind went blank and his body froze completely in place from terror as he trembled uncontrollably. The immaculate hedges, lawns, cars and houses of Privet Drive were all destroyed as the ball of death killed everything it touched. And just as Harry believed that it couldn't get any worse, it most certainly did.

The sphere of eradication slowed to a crawl before it stopped completely. Chaotic winds of magic surged over its surface as the once protecting ward roiled madly as it shone even brighter and brighter. White light consumed the world and Harry was forced to close his eyes. The last thing he remembered was a massive roaring sound and a wave of heat slamming into him...

Hours later...

Harry coughed weakly as his green eyes opened once more. The air tasted strange as he found himself laying face down. It was way too hot outside for autumn going on winter. The sound of fire crackling could be heard loudly. Was he near a fireplace? No, he wasn't. He was face down in cold sand. Where was he?

He reached down with one hand into the sound and sucked in a breath as his skin stung him fiercely. He still got up to his feet and looked at his hand. It had been scrubbed harshly by the sand and some of his skin was completely missing. Blood dripped from his open wounds and before Harry's shocked eyes, tendrils of scarlet came from the air and laid themselves into his wounds. Whereupon the pain faded and his hands miraculously healed right then and there.

"Thank you." Harry uttered without thinking clearly as he looked his unblemished hands over. Which he then used to feel around the sand for his glasses.

The tendrils of scarlet twisted and bobbed in the air playfully from his praise as he put on his broken glasses. The blood magic stayed with him, unseen by all others, who would never know that part of the ward had survived and truly bound itself to his soul instead of his flesh and blood.

Harry's nose twitched as he picked up on the smoke in the air and as he turned, a strangled gasp choked in his throat as his eyes widened. Privet Drive was on fire. The entire neighborhood was going down in flames. He could see and hear the sirens of the ambulances and fire trucks as they blazed past the playground. Harry covered his ears with his hands as he heard the people screaming. His mind playing images of the people melting before his eyes.

His hands once more hit the sand as Harry emptied his stomach again. He coughed and hacked as he finished and he had to spit to try to get the horrible taste of out of his mouth. It didn't help that he still felt sick. He held his stomach as he got back up and once more took in the sight of the destruction that he had been responsible for creating.

His gut wrenched painfully as he nearly vomited again. Harry left one hand over his mouth as his eyes couldn't leave the sight of the blazing fire that consumed now not only the street that he had had his home on, but the entirety of the area nearby. He felt lightheaded and confused. He had nowhere to go. Aunt Petunia was going to kill him for burning down the house. He had to run, yeah, he had no choice but to run away!

"Beautiful, is it not?" A soft spoken voice asked and startled Harry out of his thoughts.

When the young child turned to look it was to find a man clad in a heavy cloak that billowed in the smoke-filled breeze. The man had finely cut chestnut brown hair and a pair of glasses sat perched over his eyes. Dancing fire was reflected in the twin shades of amber entranced with wine. A gloved hand moved up to pull down his glasses and revealed a pair of dull beige eyes as he looked at Harry for a moment.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't see you." Harry apologized automatically out of trained habit, unnerved by the glint in the older man's eyes. The man seemed to pick up on his unease and concealed his eyes behind his shaded glasses once more.

"So polite." The man commented drily with a hacking chuckle. His voice was rough and grating, as though something had harmed his throat. Once more his gaze rose up and away from Harry and the sight of the burning Privet Drive was again shown to Harry through the other pair of glasses. The boy trembled at what he had done and he did not want to see it anymore, but he couldn't take his gaze off of this strange man.

"You don't understand what I was asking." He said to Harry with a short, self-deprecating laugh. His gaze seemed to intensify behind his glasses as he was entranced by the burning neighborhood. When he spoke whilst looking dreamily into the fire it was with an awed tone of voice. "The way that those flames will burn everything to ground if left alone and through the destruction wrought, it paves the way for something new to be born again in place of what was destroyed. Is that not a beautiful thought?"

"Whether or not the new creation is stronger or weaker does not matter at all." The cloaked maniac continued passionately as Harry slowly backed away from the strange man. "Through the ashes of old shall something new be reborn! And just the chance of it being something better, superior is more than enough to justify destruction on such great a scale! For in this world, only the strong survive! Therefore those who are destroyed were weaker than those who survived! But that in itself is a fallacy and a contradiction to my own words. For if that which is destroyed has a chance to become something more, then is it no longer possible to fully know or even comprehend which is ultimately better?!"

The crazy man punctuated his screaming question by moving faster than Harry's young eyes could see. A gloved hand closed around his throat and the boy-who-lived was lifted into the air easily. With ease the man held Harry aloft with one hand even as the other moved up to take off his sunglasses. Strands that looked like mercury spread like veins through his beige eyes as the psycho tilted his head uncaringly in curiosity at the boy that struggled feebly in his grip.

"I doubt that you can grasp the conundrum that I face." The insane man muttered as his hand started to crush Harry's windpipe. A gloved hand came up to pinch the bridge of his attacker's nose as Harry tried to kick him in the face. "That's enough of that!"

With a growled threat, Harry was thrown down onto the sand of the playground harshly and as the young wizard was used to pain at such an age, he started to get up to his feet. His plans to run however were thwarted as the man's hand glowed with a silver light and Harry felt something deep inside of himself halt his body from even thinking of moving. His mind screamed in fright at the alien sensation that paralyzed him.

"You're frightened by something this basic?" The Caster wielding soul magic scoffed as he planted his foot on Harry's chest and pushed his aching body down into the sand once more. "I wonder if you will be able to retain your sanity from what will come next. Then again, judging from what I unearthed, you are already destined for far greater things than this world can ever offer you."

"Therehence lies my confusion!" He shouted to the heavens as he towered over the young boy. How no one had heard him and come to Harry's rescue was an impossible curse. Were it not for the ward that the magic-user had put in place before he ever even opened his mouth to speak to Harry. "Should I give you the chance to survive what will kill you or shall I outright kill you? Either option allows for greater results and one is fated to never occur were it not for my intervention. Hmm."

"Ah, but where are my manners? I failed to introduce myself, can't have that, now can we?" The crazed man raved with his rasping voice, before he bowed at the waist dramatically. "My given name by hell is Cohnar. Rejoice, Harry Potter! For if all things occur as they shall, you will become just like me! A Caster of magic that makes all other forms obsolete! To be able to wield the soul of anything as you desire!"

Harry couldn't even scream as his eyes widened in terror with each word that this madman was spouting as loud as his voice could allow. The man, Cohnar, leveled a dangerous leer with his alien eyes upon the young child and the adult knelt at Harry's side as his hand retrieved something from his pocket.

It was a gemstone roughly the size of Harry's closed fist. Its blood-red color defied understanding as countless tortured faces could be clearly seen moving in an endless torrent of damnation below its surface. Embers that made Harry's skin crawl at the sight of, lazily drifted away from the unholy artifact.

"Good luck, kin." Cohnar wished upon Harry as he put his gloved hand over the boy's mouth and rammed the Philosopher's Stone straight into the young child's chest.

Harry screamed into the leather glove as the crystal embedded itself into his flesh. Blood splattered and coated the stone and his skin. Unnatural veins grew from the center of his chest as the Stone partially liquefied and started to release the souls of sinners that it had been made from. The young boy felt like he was burning alive as a thousand voices howled as one in pain within his mind. His body thrashed wildly as it tried to resist the invading defilement. His fingers clawed into the sand and only bled from the effort.

The world faded around the dying child who cried helplessly for it all to stop. The blood-ward hovering in the air around the one it was meant to protect, being unable to aid the child in any way. The venom that coursed through his veins made it impossible to dull his pain from within. Nor was it strong enough to be able to drive off his attacker.

"A pity, I thought that you would be awakened here and now." Cohnar muttered darkly. "It seems that you will then have to be destroyed, in order for the chance of something greater than this pathetically weak whelp that you are to be created! To think that I wasted such precious resources on a whim."

And so, the mad Caster walked away in disgust without another look and so the mortal, Harry Potter, passed from this world, unloved and hated as he drew his last anguished breath. In his place, someone far more lethal would have the possibility to grow and be born anew…

A new direction in life can be laid in front of us and at times, we have no choice but to keep walking. Hardship is what will await you on a path that you do not want to walk along. Take hold of what lays at the end of such a road. For even if it is uncertain, if you can behold your desires at the end of your current path, then do you not hold the power to make it a reality?

Strengthen your resolve and cherish what you long for. Never let go of it once you have found what you need in life. For others have not been as lucky as you would be then...