Snapped

Snapped

By: Elf

The first thing Harry remembered was the blood. All the rich blood leaking in a crimson rush from his best friend's scalp. How the blood turned the coppery red hair a shocking crimson. How the blood ran down Ron's pale, freckled face in crimson rivulets as his blank, brown eyes stared up at nothing.

Then there was the laugh, the horrible chilling laugh that Harry wasn't afraid of any more.

If anything, the laugh was what helped snap him, break his composure.

Then there were the words.

"You can't protect all your friends Potter! I'll eventually kill you, Potter and then there will be no one to stop me, Boy. Weasley already fell, I wonder how the Mudblood's going to fair. Pretty thing, I'll wonder if she'll scream."

Hearing those words as he looked up from his dead friend's body and into the glowing crimson eyes of a demon wearing human flesh. Flesh that he had helped graft to those bones. Flesh that was stolen from Harry's blood. Flesh that was immune to the charms that his dying mother had bestowed upon him.

In that moment, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, snapped.

It brought him to this moment. He was dressed in Muggle clothing, all black, a thick black sweater that Mrs. Weasely knitted, a pair of black jeans that actually fit, and black boots. He fitted numerous potions in small bottles in a special belt around his waist. Potions that he had finally taken the time to learn from Snape.

Snape, poor, poor Snape. He had hated Snape for the longest time and apparently the feelings were mutral. Then something had happened in his fifth year that involved Sirius and Malfoy, something that created a grudging respect for one and another. Snape didn't coddle him like Sirius or ofter wisdom and protection like Dumbledore, no Snape taught him, taught him things to become a weapon of sorts.

Snape had been the first one to die. The Judas. Harry hadn't been able to see that, but Sirius hunted down the vampire bitch that drained Snape of all of his blood. He hunted her down and crusified her in a Catholic church. He let her writhe and burn on the cross until the sun rose, finaly finishing her off. At the time, Harry was worried about his godfather's sudden sadistic streak.

Now, he understood it perfectly.

Harry polished his wand to a fine sheen. If Voldemort tried to use his magic powers on him, Harry would just bring out his own wand. So, he needed an extra edge to finaly kill Voldemort. The potions would help see to that, slow him down a bit, but he wanted something more personal.

That was why he had snuck into Dumbledore's office and "borrowed" the Gryffindor Sword.

He strapped it on his back, his hand lingering over the rubies inlayed into the handle. Over the past two summers he had taken Kendo lessons after Cho had explained various martial arts to him while they had dated. She had even taught him some Tai Chi that her grandfather had taught her a long time ago. Still, some part of him suggested that he learned how to sword fight after the incident in the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry paused and looked at himself in the mirror. His raven hair was stuck up in odd angles, even more than it usualy was. His green eyes were almost glowing in their intensity and there was a dangerous exspression on his face. He looked like an angel of death on a vengance mission he realized.

Which wasn't that far from the truth.

"Harry, you can't do this," Hermione's voice whispered behind him.

Harry turned around to see his best friend standing there as well as the small redhead he came to love. Hermione's eyes were red rimed from crying. He had held her and Ginny as they sobbed over Ron's death. Harry didn't shed a tear. All he felt was anger and a thirst for Voldemort's blood building up inside of him.

He had snapped.

Harry replied, "I have to Hermione."

"No, Harry, I lost Ron, I won't lose you too," Hermione pleaded, rushing over to him and grabbing his shirt, "I've lost the man I love and I'm not going to lose my best friend!"

Harry gently grabbed her wrists and pushed her hands down. He replied, "Hermione, you don't understand."

"He'll kill you too!" Hermione sobbed, her brown eyes spilling. Harry pushed her away and collected his Invisibility Cloak. He waved his wand and summoned his Firebolt to his hand.

"Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived has a crush on my baby sister. I don't know whether to punch you and tell you to stay the hell away from Ginny or to elbow your ribs and laugh at you."

"Harry, you dolt, you could have gotten yourself killed."

"Are you mad? Hand over something that good?"

"Nothing, Blimey, who'd spend that much money on you?"

"He must really love you if he eats rats."

"Ginny, looks like you've got competition."

Harry could still see the blood, those blank, brown eyes, and Ron's empty shell, empty of everything that gave him life. Harry felt that knot of anger and bloodlust rise within him. He straddled his broom and hovered to the open window.

Harry didn't just lose a best friend. He had a brother taken from him. He looked out into the night sky at all the stars and the full moon winking at him. He started to fly out of the window when Ginny called out, "Harry, wait!"

He turned around to see her running toward him, her red hair flying behind him. She gripped his hands and looked anxiously into his eyes. Her brown eyes were wide and vulnerable as she said, "Harry, come back to me, safely."

Harry bent down to cup her face, stroke those fiery locks out of her face. He memorized that sweet face and every freckle on her darling nose. He had a feeling that he may not come back.

It didn't matter, he had already snapped. Harry Potter was dead, all that remained was an angry shell that claimed vengeance. Harry wasn't going to come back. He hadn't come back when he carried Ron's body back to Hogwarts. He was still there in the woods, staring at his dead brother's body. Harry Potter was gone and in his place was a dangerous weapon ready to strike for the good of the world.

Ginny gripped his fingers tightly as she said, "Harry, I'm not going to lose you."

There was nothing Harry could have told her to assure her or slightly ease her fears. He only bent down and captured her lips with his own. The kiss was hot and intense, passionate and desperate. He felt Ginny's arms wrap around his neck as he lifted her closer, running a hand through that lovely red hair that felt like silk between her fingers.

He parted, still tasting her on his lips and tongue. Funny, under the salty taste of tears he could still taste her, sweet and rich like chocolate. Her eyes were hopeful and wide in her beautiful face. Eyes that were so much like Ron's.

He floated up out of the window as Ginny gripped the seal. He memorized every detail of her and Hermione's faces one last time. Poor Hermione, she was all alone now.

I'll kill Voldemort for you, Hermione. I'll kill him for you too, Ginny. And I'll kill him for myself. He's killed every family that I've ever known and for that the bastard will pay.

He slid into the Invisibility Cloak and faded from Hermione and Ginny's view. He gripped his broom and sped off into the night, the wind whipping at him. It didn't matter though, the only thing that mattered was having Voldemort's blood drip from his fingers.

******

Silent tears fell from Ginny's eyes as Harry slid into his Invisibility Cloak. Her mouth still tingled with his kiss. She knew what was going to happen.

Harry wasn't going to come back.

Sure, he might defeat Voldemort and live, but who would come back wouldn't be Harry Potter.

And for that, she wept.

The End!

I have nothing against Ron or Snape either. Actually, I'd be very upset if something happened to my favorite professor. It just made sense in the fic.

So, what did you think of Dark Harry? For some reason, I'm wanting him to snap in the last book. He was already starting to obsess about Voldemort in GOF.