Harry Potter and the Wizard Slayer

My name is Harry Potter. It's been... what? Thirteen years? Yeah. Something like that. Thirteen years since I lost everything. It all began fifteen years ago, though. I've changed since then.

We are only products of our pasts. Perhaps a complex equation? No. It's gotta be different... otherwise we'd never taken responsibility for our actions.

We just are.

Lord Voldemort.... people are still afraid to utter his name. He rose from the ashes fifteen years ago. He filled himself with my protections; with my blood. I am responsible for his resurrection. I am responsible for his inevitable death. If it is at all possible to kill a God.

Fourteen years ago, I was only in my fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Towards the end of the year, Voldemort let himself be known to the world. And so the war began. That is when I lost my first loved one.

Bellatrix. She killed my last living relative, Sirius Black. That day, she proved to me that I could lose anything and in a moment, I lost everything. I screamed at Dumbledore as if it was his fault; but in the end, it was mine.

I just am.

And that was just the beginning of the world spiraling downward into desolation and destruction. It was only the beginning of a war would scar all of us forever. But I think it scarred me the most. Not that I'm special or anything...

I just am.

Sirius Black isn't the only casualty lost in this world. No. Not at all. He's nothing. Bellatrix showed me that I could lose anything at any moment. The tragedy was, I thought I lost everything. I had no idea what it was like to hit rock bottom yet. I had no idea.

I was naive. Yet I am no more enlightened now than I ever was. I am naive. One year, one day, one month, one week, one second later... we're all naive.

So, what should I say now in this mindless babble? Why am I telling you my story? Well, someone's got to know how the final skirmish between good and evil came out. Me, myself, I don't even know what's good or evil anymore. A lot of good wizards think of me just as evil as Voldemort now.

They are useless.

So, yeah, I was talking about how it was only the beginning. His rise to power was the scourge of my world. Sirius Black was the first to fall. But he was only one. He was only victim to the initial reign of dark wizards.

Cornelius Fudge was next. Not that I really cared about him. He was an incompetent fool. If I knew then what I know now, I probably would've killed him, too. Heh. I guess I've got to admit it. Yeah, I've done my fair share of illegal curses. Not that it matters. The Ministry of Magic is gone, now. There's no such thing as illegal and legal.

I am survival.

Cornelius Fudge was tortured for hours under the Cruciatus curse. That was nothing. Back then, we all thought it was such a horrible curse. It's one of my favorites, now. I'll say one thing for Bellatrix. She taught me a valuable life lesson. She taught me that you have to enjoy the torture for it to work... and there's I enjoy more than torturing Death Eaters. I love to hear them scream.

I am not a dark wizard. I just am.

We thought Neville Longbottom's parents had it rough. They were tortured to insanity. But that was nothing. Nothing compared to what I did to Bellatrix Lestrange. I thanked her for waking me up right before I showed her a Cruciatus curse that even Voldemort restrained himself from performing. She screamed for fifty-two hours straight. And I loved every minute of it.

Those were the best moments of my life. I wouldn't trade them for anything. They say revenge is bitter sweet. I say, I enjoy my acquired taste. After fifty-two hours, and yes, I kept track of every minute, she no longer screamed. The pain itself did more than cause insanity. It eventually killed her.

So I learned another lesson from her that day. You have to take breaks in the torture, or your victim will die. I know this because I always have to learn the hard way. You don't want the victim to die early. I only wish she lived a few hours longer.

I cannot describe my pleasure recalling this memory. The dark-haired woman really knew how to scream. I wish I ask her what it felt like. I wouldn't know. Before this, the thought of her was so painful that it made me want to vomit. Now, it brings a smile to my face. One of my happy memories. Bitter sweet, perhaps, but even a bitter man engages in sweet necessity.

I can't feel pain.

At first, I thought I had gained something with my sweet vengeance. But like sugar in my hands, it quickly seeped through and I was unable to hold on. Hermione...

Hermione still talks to me, sometimes. Only when our paths cross coincidentally. She hates people like me. Because people like me believe that the ends justify the means. And she's too much of a good-hearted wizard to understand otherwise.

She said, How could you do something like that!? Yeah, well, whatever. Not like she had been through what I had. She knew nothing. Naive girl.

I was naive too, though. So I am lenient in my words.

I've probably used more illegal curses, note again that there are no laws anymore, in my lifetime than half the Death Eaters combined. I am their single greatest fear.

I am the manifestation of fear.

You might say I'm a lone vigilante. It's fairly accurate. When Hermione and I parted ways, there became two factions. Those of us willing to hunt the daemons with their own magic, and those of us who weren't. She was afraid. She called me a betrayer.

I am the one who was betrayed.

I am Harry Potter. I hate that name. Disgusting name. It reminds me of who I once was. I believed in an idealistic world of fairness. I believed in doing the right thing. I didn't know, back then, that nobody cares about doing the right thing. In the end, what matters is what you do. Not the reason behind it. The ends justify the means.

Even Ron Weasley refused to follow in my footsteps. His entire family tried to talk some sense into me. As if I had gone insane. As if I was some kind of mental case.

I am insanity.

The Weasley's all said I was too harsh. I was too angry. Well, hey, I passed the Auror test. Fuck them. I don't have to answer to them or anyone. My only goal is to kill Voldemort. And I know now that I am the only person in the world capable of doing it.

Sibyll Trelawney made a prophecy once. In it, she basically said that one of us must die by the other's hand. There are two interpretations to the prophecy. I believe the one that says that I will kill him.

Hermione and Ron actually believed Dumbledore great enough to defeat Lord Voldemort. They were so wrong... so naive. Even I wasn't that stupid. Dumbledore wasn't that stupid. But they believed in him. They believed he was the only one Voldemort ever feared.

I'm not always right, but I'm never wrong.

It was a spectacular duel. Would've been in the Prophet if the Ministry of Magic was still around. Speaking of that... I really ought to fill you in on that, too. Conveniently for me, Voldemort's following was still weak in the first few years of his resurrection.

Okay, I admit, I skipped two years of school. But it was for a good cause. Note the dry sarcasm in my voice. There are no good causes. Only personal vendettas. I had an extremely condensed Auror education. School was useless. I only wanted to learn how to fight. How to become stronger. For thirteen years, I've been working on becoming stronger.

It's hilarious that fools like Minerva and Cornelius tried to stop me. They said, School is important! Education matters! I say, Deliver me from propaganda and lies. Deliver me from conformity. You are useless.

I am useful.

They told me how much it mattered... how I couldn't skip around the system. It was illegal. Well, I told them, in a few years, that word wouldn't exist.

Dumbledore was against it, too. But he got me in. He got me the training I needed. And I needed it. It made me stronger. But not strong enough. Their policies were so stupid. It was like giving a kid a bike, but telling him to keep the training wheels on. Not gonna happen.

The moment I finished my training, I took those training wheels off forever. I was determined to become the most feared wizard in the world, right next to Lord Voldemort. I would make him answer for his high crimes. I thought he took everything from me. And in seeking vengeance... I lost even more.

I took everything from myself. But I don't regret it one bit. I am the one who was betrayed.

Shortly after I finished my training, the Ministry of Magic faced a brutal head on attack. They were outnumbered by then. They let Voldemort's support grow too much. Had they acted quicker, when Dumbledore told them to, we may very well not be spiraling downwards into darkness. The era of Hell was a result of their incompetence. As I've said many times before, Cornelius was a fool. That's why he got himself killed before the war even started.

The Ministry of Magic was first to fall. And then Diagon Alley. The goblins and dragons were next. Voldemort never did favor goblins. If there was ever a genocide, that was it. He made the goblin rebellions look like a five year old tantrum. As far as I'm concerned, goblins don't exist anymore.

I exist.

The Daily Prophet ceased to exist. Laws ceased to exist. Prison ceased to exist. There are only two crimes in the world today. And only one punishment.

One is to be the enemy of Lord Voldemort, punishable by death. The other is to be my enemy. And when given a choice between myself and Voldemort, most people don't know which way to go.

I am not a dark wizard.

Voldemort has a lot of followers. In the wizard world, not that there is a difference between the wizard and Muggle worlds today, he has his Death Eaters, dragons, giants, dementors, mermaid factions, and even a few giant spiders.

Yeah. I bet you're wondering, What does the good side have? Well, first off, there's no good side. There's my side, and Hermione Granger's side. I do whatever it takes to defeat Lord Voldemort. That mudblood is still under the complex illusion that there are laws in the world.

I am not the law. I am the order.

The good side has a handful of Muggles and Harry Potter. And that's enough to strike fear into every dark wizard aside from Lord Voldemort himself. I am the last bastion of hope.

Dumbledore versus Voldemort. Truly a clash between titans. But as the prophecy says, only I can kill Lord Voldemort. We have the same blood, the same phoenix, the same heritage. I am Him. And there is only room for one of us.

Dumbledore was protecting me that day. I was naive. Another reason I forgive Hermione for her short comings even now. I thought I was strong enough to defeat Lord Voldemort with all my training. That day, I learned that I was not fighting the same Lord Voldemort that had terrorized the world so many years before. I was fighting a genius who had ascended into Godhood.

I stood in awe as Dumbledore and Voldemort showed me the meaning of a duel. I thought I had seen everything by the time I was in my fifth year at Hogwarts. When they first dueled. I was so wrong. It was like child's play.

It was that day that I learned that the three illegal curses the Death Eaters loved so much were childish antics in a duel with Voldemort. Dumbledore parried each spell with his own good loving heart. But that's all they were. Good spells. They were overpowered in the end.

The green jet of flame completely engulfed Dumbledore's love. But I'm not going to shame Dumbledore's name today. Not ever. He wasn't so weak to die to such a simple spell. Even in death, Dumbledore's legacy lives on. He uttered some complex spell that I couldn't begin to enunciate to you even immediately after he said it. He knew that he was going to die. He knew Voldemort had grown too powerful for even him.

It is my destiny to die someday. But it is not my time yet.

Voldemort would have killed me right after he got Dumbledore. I felt myself so advanced in magic after all that training. I felt myself to be the best. But I felt like such an amateur that day. I couldn't move. I was stunned with fear.

Dumbledore's legacy. Dumbledore saved me that day in more ways than one. Like Bellatrix taught me that I did not know how to use Cruciatus, Dumbledore taught me how weak I was. He had always been so kind. He always told me he loved me. They say we always hurt the ones we love the most. It's the other way around, sometimes.

Dumbledore, he said, Harry, it is your fault that I die today. Yet I give you this, just the same. I learned two things that day. Avada Kedavra can be resisted. And that Dumbledore taught my mother the spell that defeated Him when I was only a baby.

The ultimate protection magic. I still have not found that spell even to this day. Nicholas Flamel probably taught it to him. He was the only one old enough to know about magic as ancient as that. Nicholas is dead now. Died shortly after Dumbledore. If there was a genius counterpart to Lord Voldemort, it was Nicholas Flamel.

Nicholas Flamel and Voldemorte shared the genius of immortality and perfection. That is what Voldemort wants. He wants perfection. He wants to be the world's strongest. I say, Let me never be perfect. Because if perfection existed, Voldemort would already have it. And I would die; the inferior being. But I will never stop gaining power. There is no limit to my power.

I know no limits.

I am responsible for Dumbledore's death. I am responsible for Sirius Black's death.

I am responsible for many deaths. But there is only one that I want to take credit for. Someday, I will kill Lord Voldemort.

Avada Kedavra did not kill Dumbledore that day. Lord Voldemorte did not kill Dumbledore, although he would have eventually. Lord Voldemort was a true genius. Dumbledore was the result of hard work and a bit of natural talent.

I just am.

The ultimate protection magic killed Dumbledore that day. He sacrificed his life to protect me. It is a double-edged sword. The victim of the curse reflects all magic for twenty four hours. Any magic spell cast on the victim will be reflected. No matter what.

It kills the caster. No matter what. It is an absolute. The caster dies. It is not like Avada Kedavra or Imperius. It is not like Cruciatus. It cannot be resisted.

Death is inevitable.

I changed that day. People no longer knew me as Harry Potter. I sought vengeance. I sought to correct my weakness. To rectify my problems. To kill Lord Voldemort. And only I could do it.

Because Voldemort was a true genius. And he never fell for the same trick twice. He knew the curse too well. He had to retreat that day. And so it began. The war. The world that spirlled downwards into darkness. Hell, the last stop for the Hogwarts Express! Get off or forever hold your peace.

"There ain't no gettin' off this train we're on." Some guy said this in a video game. It's truth. A train can only run on its tracks. The world could not stray from the track. We had a ticket straight to Hell.

I still feel the great guilt for the death of Dumbledore. But it was inevitable. In every death, there is new life. Dumbledore taught me that there were no limits. He taught me that I could never stop learning if I were to combat Voldemort. And Voldemort taught me that I was weak.

I still am weak. But I'm getting stronger. I know no limits. I cannot stop when I simply become as legendary as Albus Dumbledore. I have to become stronger. If Dumbledore did not die that day, I may never have seen that. I probably would have died instead, not realizing how outclassed I was. I was such a disgusting, ignorant fool.

No wonder Severus Snape hated me so much. I was the epitome of arrogance. The greatest fool the world had ever known. I believed in justice and righteousness. I hate those words.

I hate the name Harry Potter.

I have hunted down and killed three hundred and sixty two death eaters. I will not stop until I kill every one of them. I am to dark wizards what Voldemort is to good. I am the destroyer. I am the one who was betrayed. After all this, I can only say that I believe in one thing.

I am Harry Potter, the Wizard Slayer.