Disclaimer/Plot/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER
Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to everyone who enjoys my stories: my recommended reads are You're my Density by robst, The Renegade by Greed720, Triton by the elementa1ist, Paid In Blood by zaterra02, Enough by White Angel of Auralon, Master Demense by Different Dimension Demon, Basilisk-born by Ebenbild, Harry Potter and the Daft Morons by Sinyk, Earl of the North by Lord Silvere, Flames of Betrayal by marietsy2 and Birth of a Nightmare Man and The Nightmare Man by Tiro
Key Pairing: Harry/Mara; Others TBD
WhiteElfElder: You have no idea how right you are, my friend;
Wrath of The Sun Deity: Pay special attention to this chapter and the AN at the end for further info on that point;
Edward kizaru: What is he hiding? Well, he's given up caring, he's willing to cheek off the Minister and now make trouble for guards; add in how he'd probably sooner see them all dead and what do you get? A shark…or even a shark's young;
Nagiten: Half the fun of writing my stories: by the way, hope you're ready for a dose of insanity;
"No-one to save you now; you're in Hell, little man…and I am the Devil!"
"No," grunted Harry, slowly picking himself up while he sneered, "You're not the Devil…"
Then, before the guards could make another move, Harry used his Seeker reflexes, and his years of experience outrunning Dudley and the thugs he called friends to good use as he laughed, "You're practice!"
Chapter 2: A Dark Surprise
For the better part of the next two months, a dark cloud seemed to cover the magical world, though there were only a select few who knew it.
And when they realised they knew it, they shuddered with so much fear and dread, they might as well have gotten a glimpse at the end of the world itself, complete with the Four Horsemen riding out and the Devil himself cloaking the entire world in his shadow.
After the arrest of Harry Potter, the topic of which took up the front cover of the Daily Prophet with truths, exclusives and ever-changing opinions on the boy-hero-turned-traitor, the lives of many began to be changed.
What had been a tense, divided community was now merely-fractured, with many choosing to cheer and praise the arrest of the traitor while only a ragtag group of true believers kept the faith and truth for what it was.
In the Ministry, many were praising and cheering Fudge's good name, which, of course, meant that the real party responsible got away with it.
Or so they thought.
As for Dumbledore and his Order, they too were divided, mostly by the way that one of their rogue elements, Sirius Black, had become persona non grata and gone underground, clearly under the Fidelius, but no longer was Dumbledore himself the Secret Keeper.
This meant, when he tried to make good on his threat and have Sirius arrested – while secretly planning to ensure the man had an out if he stayed true to the Order – the old man couldn't remember where Sirius was hiding. Not only that, but when those who'd stayed true to Sirius and his godson's innocence returned to Hogwarts, even they couldn't share the secret, even though it was bleeding obvious they'd spent time with him.
Worst-affected, at least in Dumbledore's opinion, was Hermione Granger, who'd apparently been cursed with a tattoo that labelled her a thief, but this also made her a pariah among her Housemates. Given the fact she was a Prefect, this also made her something of a serious persona non grata with the Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff Prefects, but especially with her cohort in Gryffindor, Ronald Weasley.
After the first meeting, Ron went as far as handing in his badge, stating he didn't want to work with an egomaniac who stole because she preferred to be better than everyone else, and, without Harry, there wasn't an option Dumbledore could consider that would bring Hermione back into the fold.
But what could the old man do in the meantime?
He couldn't think of a way to get Harry out of Azkaban without risking backlashes from Fudge and Harry himself, whom Albus often wondered if he'd succumbed to madness yet. Being surrounded by Dementors, as well as the worst of the worst of Tom's forces – the mention of whom made Albus just as worried at how quiet Tom had been lately – wouldn't do him any good, especially not with his violent reactions and the way the Dementors hunted him like he was a wounded animal.
If only Harry hadn't used Fudge's fear against him, Dumbledore knew he could have saved Harry by playing on the Minister's fear and ego.
But now, it was too little, too late.
As for the aforementioned Dark Lord, however, he wasn't as happy or gleeful as Dumbledore might have thought.
Instead, without his enemy to do what was needed and help him retrieve the prophecy, Voldemort was at a loss, though he was also curious, if not amused and interested by Harry's sudden breaking of his wits. The way he'd spoken out against, more or less, everyone in the courtroom, what he'd said and how he'd basically shown that he was done caring made the Dark Lord curious about the boy's true intentions.
Perhaps it was time to try extending the olive branch again and, fortunately, he had a window of opportunity: it was also time for his truly-faithful to return to the fold, so why not add little Harry to those ranks?
With his broken mind, fractured soul and darkly-twisted sense of morale, he could make a suitable ally…
Perhaps even the heir Voldemort had been searching for all these years.
Finally, there was Harry himself.
And while the world tried its best to heal the rift between sides, old men wondered and hated themselves for being so pathetic and Dark Lords made plans for the future, the only thing Harry did was the same thing he'd done ever since he'd been carted off to Azkaban.
Every day, his laughter filled the halls of Azkaban like the wails of the damned – which, he supposed, they were – and, when the Dementors came to feast on his happiness, he didn't cower, whimper or back down. If anything, his laughter grew hysterical and beyond the levels of madness.
While whatever he was laughing at might have amused him, it bloody-well terrified everyone else; the guards who accompanied the Dementors usually needed Cheering Charms or Calming Draughts and some serious downing of copious amounts of alcohol before they even managed to get the crazed sounds out of their heads.
Those who couldn't even handle it soon handed in their resignations before committing themselves to St Mungo's Psych Ward, one or two of them so broken that even the slightest sound or adjustment in light made them go insane.
Though not as insane as Harry Potter had clearly gone, as was the general consensus of the guards who remained.
For two months, from the day he was thrown to Darkness to the night where he'd originally become famous among the witches and wizards of Magical Britain, Harry did nothing but laugh. Even when he was silent, he had this cold, vicious smile that didn't even look human while, despite the best efforts of the guards – including an attempt to force-feed him – Harry didn't eat, drink, sleep or even go to the bathroom.
He just sat there, his back against the cold stone wall, his eyes staring into the darkness and his face split in two with the smile as he laughed.
No longer a man, in the eyes of his gaolers.
Now, he was a demon.
And all that demon could do was laugh, filling the halls with the sounds of his broken, inhuman cries for hours on end.
For two months, darkness cloaked the world in doubt, fear, questionable loyalties, guilt, pain and other emotions that meant that, basically, no-one was able to learn their lesson, which was a shame, because it was a lesson that they should have learned a long time ago.
Like every time they stared at the crest of a certain school and saw the words beneath the shield: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus
The words were more than just words.
Never tickle a sleeping dragon: a lesson the world was about to learn.
And all because they were too stupid to accept the truth.
When the guards on duty first noticed the fact that all was eerily, hauntingly-silent in Azkaban, for once, many of them were relieved, but many more were just as concerned.
Normally, the demon-like howls and cries of the Fallen One, Harry Potter would echo through the corridors, heightened only when the Dementors did what they did best. But this time, on this particular day, there were no laughs, not even choked-back titters or broken whispers or whimpers.
Instead, the level of the prison where the Fallen One was caged was silent.
"Thank Merlin," whispered the guard, wiping sweat from his brow as he mused, "I can't believe how many we went through with this one: he's even crazier than the Lestranges combined…and given one of them's Bellatrix, that's saying something."
As he approached the cell where Harry was caged, preparing for the usual routine of ensuring the Dementors kept the boy meek and in check, even though his howling screeches of laughter, hysteria and inhuman madness swept through the halls when it happened, the guard scoffed before he reasoned, "Who knows? Maybe he finally cracked his vocal chords with all that shrieking…certainly save me a fortune on Calming Draughts."
With that, he put the key in the lock and turned it once.
And his world succumbed to darkness, cold and a feeling of begging for death.
But Death would never come…not for him, anyway.
When Harry heard the cell door being unlocked, the young sorcerer sniggered to himself before he whispered, "And to think, I was going to spare you a dose of madness on this day; call it my way of honouring Samhain for what it is. We could have had cake and balloons and floating pumpkins, but nah; I thought, let's give them a day of rest…until midnight anyway. Ah well, no Cinderella story for…ooh…hello…what's all this, then?"
His last words suddenly became edged by maniacal, broken curiosity and amusement when, instead of the usual rota of guards and the Dementor who'd come to swallow his light, there was, instead, a surprising sight for the broken boy.
When the door was opened, the Dementor who accompanied the guard suddenly moved, grabbing the guard before he knew what was going on; a few seconds later, a pale, silvery light flew out of the guard's body and into the Dementor. Once done with the body, the ghostly, disfigured creation let the man drop to the ground, his pale, sickly form no longer moving, breathing or the slightest bit aware of his surroundings.
"Well…" drawled Harry, clicking his tongue before he smirked as he added, "That happened…so…what?"
Looking from the remains of the guard to the Dementor next to him, Harry chuckled as he asked, "Is this supposed to be some kind of foreplay before the big event, my tall, dark and handsome friend? Cause I have to say; seeing my gaoler get what he deserves made me kind of hard."
'Then you are ready,' replied a soft voice, the sound of which made Harry's eyes widen as he looked at the Dementor, who seemed to remain exactly where it was, even as Harry sniggered nervously.
"All right…it's official, I have gone mad; I'm hearing voices in my head, they're talking to me, they understand…ooh…now that sounds like a good idea for a song," laughed the teenage Prisoner of Azkaban, rubbing his hands together before he asked, "So, Voice, tell me: what am I ready for? Is my soul ripe enough for you to make a Saviour's Soul Special out of me? Do I finally get stuck with the fork and declared done? Is this the day we kiss and make up?"
'Of course,' replied the Voice, the sound of which made Harry scoff before he threw his chained arms up, the rattling echoing through his cell even as he looked to the Dementor.
"Very well then, my little pretty, pretty, pretty…come and get me, if you can…etch the pain into me, scar me and make me your bitch…trust me, it's nothing compared to the indigestion I plan on giving you after you swallow me down!"
To Harry's half-surprise, however, rather than mock him further, the Voice only laughed before, to his shock and amusement, the soul-sucking creature in front of him swooped forwards. However, instead of grabbing him and kissing him as was their deadliest weapon, the Dementor placed its scabby hand against Harry's chest before, to his alarm, the deformed creature suddenly shone with pitch-black magical energy.
As the energy swarmed around the Dementors, like a ghostly, hell-born fog that had come out of nowhere, Harry gasped when he saw what could only be described as a second swarm of lights rise up from within the Dementor. Each of the lights in this second swarm was a cold, illuminating shade of white that swirled around one another like a tornado of beauty and bestial force, but as Harry stared, he let out a gasp when, suddenly, the Dementor holding his chest seemed to feed the lights into him.
And as it did so, the black miasma that enveloped the Dementor crept into Harry's body, filling him with a cold, unrivalled emptiness that made him feel like he was whole and yet not whole at the same time. As the emptiness passed from the Dementor into Harry, the imprisoned teen let out a final cry of elation and crazed delight before, to his surprise, the Dementor in front of him began to change into another shape.
Where once, there had been dishevelled, torn robes and scabbed, ghostly skin, Harry was enraptured to notice that the Dementor had transformed into a vision of dark beauty whom was swathed in a black, tattered – but somehow, still-sexy-looking – gown that wrapped itself around her like she was being held in the coils of the night itself.
The girl was around the same age as Harry, yet her skin was like caramel-chocolate while her hair was an awe-inspiring shade of silvery-white that looked more like wraiths or ghosts dancing across her brow. As her body formed, Harry saw a pair of jet-black eyes that filled with colour, both of which were like the colour of violet crystals, but more-potent, much-colder and filled with a dark fire that could never be extinguished.
The girl wore nothing but the gown she was dressed in; even her feet were bare to the elements and, as she became fully-materialised in front of him, Harry gulped hard before he whispered, "Well…there's something you don't see every day."
"Nor are you likely to again, Harry," argued the girl; her voice was soft and edged by a note of mystery that made her truly-enchanting, yet also intimidating to behold.
As she looked at him, she also smiled at his disbelief at what she'd just done in front of him before she explained, "But I should thank you: you see, if you hadn't come, I couldn't have been brought out of the Abyss and reunited with you."
"That's right," replied the young girl, extending a hand before, to Harry's surprise, she seemed to exude a dark aura that slowly covered his entire body; when it faded, his Azkaban robes were gone, but in their place was a skin-hugging black outfit that had an air of power about it…and not simply because of how it had been conjured either.
Instead, as Harry ran his hands down his body, he let out a laugh as he felt sparks of power dancing beneath his fingertips, "Ha…it tickles…that's a nice trick and, as much as I appreciate the makeover, would you mind filling in a gap and telling me who you are and what the bloody hell you are? You can't be a Dementor…they're ugly and disgusting, but you?"
Letting out a cold laugh, Harry licked his lips as he told her, "You, I could just eat up right now…and not in ways that might be considered wrong given I'm a guy and you're a delicacy of a girl."
"If you want me, you're more than welcome to have me, of course," agreed the strange girl, moving closer to Harry before, to his surprise, she caressed his cheek as she went on, "After all, I've waited centuries to feel the touch of the one destined to free me from the prison that fool Ekrizdis tried to claim himself Lord of when it was clear he shouldn't have what he didn't deserve…but from him, the Nest was built…and, like you, my precious one, he too went mad with the lust for the end…but unlike you, his madness didn't make him stronger. It just enriched the power that can only belong to my true Sovereign of Souls…and, of course, the one soul chosen to be my love…if he would have me."
Again, Harry licked his lips before he laughed as he asked, "So…you want me to have you…"
"I don't even know your name…unless you'd like me to come up with one for you, my pet…my angel…my little delicacy…"
"My name is Mara," answered the girl, earning a curt nod from Harry.
"There now, was that so hard?"
The girl, Mara, just laughed in response before Harry smiled coldly, his eyes shining with newfound desire and strength as he asked, "So, again, you want me to have you, but, if I do, what do I get in return?"
"Oh, I don't know, my Sovereign," answered Mara, gesturing to the walls and cells around them before she asked, "How does complete and utter submission of my doppelgangers sound? Or how about the ability to mould and wield the infinite powers of the Netherworld and the endless Void beyond to suit your whims? Or what about the fun and interesting skill to transform these pathetic humans into your slaves and pets, also known as the Dementors, to do with as you wish?"
"But aren't you a Dementor?" asked Harry.
Again, Mara laughed before she told him, "Oh, my deliciously-dumb little lord…I am so much more than a Dementor…or a Lethifold for that matter; I am them and they are me, I won't deny that. But there's only one me, just like there's only one you and, now you're finally ready for the final seal to be broken and my true form reappears in front of you, we can both become what we're meant to be…if you want to."
"And…what is that?" asked Harry, though he couldn't deny how fun it sounded to become whatever Mara was offering.
In response, Mara licked her lips before she sighed deeply, a note of longing and pride in her voice as she answered him;
"With my help, if you believe you truly want this power, we can both become the Children of Lucifer himself…we become…Morningstar!"
Chapter 2 and, wow, talk about spooky new surprises: the Dementors have…had…have another form; one who looks as sexy as she sounds and seems to think the same of Harry, but who is…or was Mara?
Who or what are the Morningstar if not simply the surname of the Devil himself?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: Looks like it's time for an extracurricular lesson in the Darkest of Dark Creatures as Harry learns what he's to become, what Mara used to be and how, together, they will unleash Hell itself on the world…before plunging it straight into the Abyss;
Please Read and Review
So, I hope you liked the little surprise and information I came up with for Mara; admittedly, I've never really considered a girl like her or an idea like this one, which is what makes this story so interesting and, at the same time, it allows me to fill in a blank regarding the pairing.
As she said, Mara is the Dementors and they are her, so, if you really have to have the image, then just think that, if he wanted, Harry could have a whole harem of Mara as his lovers and yet they'd still be the same girl.
Weird? Maybe, but that's the fun of Fanfiction
(Oh, and don't actually expect that to happen: I was just giving an example)
Mara: Megalyn Echikunwoke (Mari/Vixen in Arrow)