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Weapon	By : uqui Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 105432 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 26
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Weapon (Possession Chapter LIII)

Chapter II - Reflections of Delusion

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Xeoaph ached. It was an unusual sensation for the ancient Vampire since he normally felt nothing but it was not a feeling he enjoyed. He supposed it was because he had used so much Wizard Magic over the last few days, lent his strength too deeply and it was now impacting upon him with this aching lethargy.

The fact that the chamber he was in was half empty wasn't adding to his mood. He had lived for a very long time and he prided himself on neutralising threats to himself and his children efficiently but here he was aching, with fully half his children dead, all killed by one man - if man it had been - all in one night. He snarled at the memory. What ever that thing had been it would be begging him for forgiveness, for release before he was through with it.

It was high noon at the moment and the others were sluggish, sleeping, concentrating on healing themselves. They were avoiding him, although they had seen to it that he had fed, throwing a muggle child in his direction. He'd discarded the desiccated remains earlier and even though such a slaughter would usually have calmed him, this time, it did nothing.

He closed blue eyes when he realised what was wrong.

He was worried.

And he had not been worried for centuries.

He had watched Dark Lords come and go, heard the Wizards proclaim each one more vile, more evil that the last, and had watched as they struggled against them, sacrificing themselves but never rectifying the causes. Dark Lord after Dark Lord had arisen, not always from the same bloodlines but often spouting the same supremist nonsense. You'd think that after the first two or three, the wizards as a whole would look at their views and society, at least try to understand why Dark Lord after Dark Lord could rise with the same philosophy and find followers in every generation.

But no. The Wizards were the worst reflection of Muggles in that way, no matter how they tried to call themselves enlightened. Muggles had the same problems but at least some of them tried to understand and tried to act. It didn't always work and it most often took a massacre before enough of them took notice, but at least they tried.

It seemed ages ago that he remembered hearing of a new Dark Lord, rising from the ashes of Grindlewald's defeat. He'd thought nothing of it except to think that this one was moving quickly. The vampires had quickly discovered though that this particular Dark Lord, this Voldemort, had all of Grindlewald's ambitions and more than enough power to back his desires. At least initially, but then like all Dark Lords, his desires outstripped his power.

And then fifteen years ago it appeared over. He'd tried to take on someone too powerful for him, someone who was willing to sacrifice themselves, body and soul for another and in that instant the self styled Lord Voldemort learnt the final truth about Light and Dark. Without Light there was no Dark, and without Dark there was no Light and that one would never allow the other to become all powerful. And so it was, with a mothers sacrifice and the power of a babe, that the Dark Lord Voldemort brought low.

A fitting end to one whose ambitions had become unsuited for a mortal.

No matter how powerful, all Dark Lords were bound by the same fact, a fact they seemed to conveniently forget, the fact that no mortal could entirely forsake the light.

Not unless you were a vampire but they were not mortal.

"We are the Dark," Xeoaph whispered the words his Master had told him eons ago, "because we have embraced the eternal Dark."

The words did not bring him comfort.

He could remember other Dark Lord's who had rallied from what seemed death, but those were more like the last rattling gurgle before true death took them. The Light was always quick to crush their last desparate gamble.

But that had not happened to Voldemort.

The Wizards had ignored the one who had brought them the news of his return. Forsaken and ridiculed he had gone to the few who believed him but even they could not launch an attack against the Dark Lord. It had not been until the Dark Lord himself had appeared in public, killing the insipid Minister of Magic had the British Wizarding Community taken the Lord Voldemort's return seriously.

And by then it had been too late.

The Dark Lord had been allowed to gather his forces, human and otherwise, and had honed them into a formidable fighting force that he had directed against the forces of Light with all the skill he possessed, his arrogance growing until he had dared to challenge the Vampires.

Arrogance..?

The question was quiet in his mind.

Was it really arrogance?

He shivered as he remembered the power Voldemort had shown him, the power that had twisted through his body for an instant that seemed longer than his two eons of life.

If he uses that power, is it really arrogance?

His mind would not let him forget.

Centuries ago, when he had still been with his creator, his master, that ancient Vampire had told him a story. It was a story he had thought only fiction but it now seemed to hold more truth that he had originally thought. Xeoaph did not know why he remembered it. In fact, in the intervening centuries he was sure he had forgotten it, but exposure to that power that Voldemort had inflicted upon him had brought the memory back, and he heard the words hammering through his mind as if his master was standing behind him, whispering.

"Remember this, my childe. No mortal is ever pure light or pure dark but there are those so light that that can control the dark, and those so dark that they control the light. I met one once, many years ago, he was the light that controlled the dark. He was very powerful but he was afraid of his own power and the three with him were not helping him. Still my childe, the warning was enough. If you ever find these mortals, do not fight them for should there be one who accepts their power, all the world shall bow to their desires."

"Surely not us, Master."

"All the world."

Xeoaph had been arrogant then, sure of a vampire's power but soon after his Master had left him to fend for himself and he had learnt that being the true Darkness was not enough to survive and from then his education had truly begun. In time he'd learnt who his Master had spoken of and while he had never met one like those his Master knew, he began to appreciate their power.

One thousand years. It had been that long since his master had met that mortal, and now there was another who controlled that power.

Lord Voldemort.

No! Xeoaph shook his head. He said himself he wasn't the master.

'Stay away from my pet.'

But he is proclaiming power over the one who is.

Blue eyes closed as the elder Vampire forced himself to remember.

The Dark Lord had used the lance of power against him and it had hurt. It had only been an instant but it had hurt like an eternity and it had damaged him, but it was damage he had quickly recovered from to stand before that human Lord with all the assurance of one of his species.

And then the Lord had claimed he wasn't the master of such power.

That had been both confusing and insulting. To use such power, but then to claim no mastery.

He had seen, standing behind him, indistinct but compellingly beautiful and powerful the online of another when the Lord Voldemort had indicated that he should look.

It was that one, he supposed who held the power over dark because Xeoaph knew that the Dark Lord Voldemort had too much dark within him to truly control it. But he had used the power of Dark and there was only one way for a Dark Lord to use the power of dark... only one way.

He'd seen the Dark Lords rise and fall. He knew that they were all petty mortals with nothing but arrogant pride in their own abilities but he did make the time to meet them as he met with all humans of interest, light or dark.

Thirty years ago, he'd posed as nothing more than a fledging Vampire and had gone to see the Dark Lord, just to confirm to himself that he was an arrogant mortal. He had not been surprised, just as he had not been surprised when he'd met Grindlewald, Hathor, or Morgan. They were all only human.

In fact there had only been one human who had surprised him in the last few centuries, Albus Dumbledore, the man who had personally felled Grindlewald and who was now leading the fight against Voldemort. The man was of the Light but he had aspects of Dark so profound that Xeoaph had almost been confused when he met him. It had taken a few moments for him to see which side Dumbledore was truly on and he had relaxed. The now old wizard was not balanced, there was only one who was, if wizard he was.

Mortals, human, animal, it did not matter, were either Light or Dark even if they didn't realise it themselves. In all his years of life Xeoaph had only met one who was balanced, containing equal Light and Dark, and he was almost sure that his master had never met anyone either. When he'd first met him, Xeoaph had been learning wizard magic and he would have sworn the man was human, creepy, with far too many insights, but mortal. Seeing as how the man was still alive today, several centuries later, the assumption of mortality was beginning to wear thin. He was not one who sustained himself with a Philosopher's stone, those temporary immortals had a peculiar smell, he did it some other way. It was a curiousity to the vampire, but not such a large one that he felt the need to find the answer.

What ever it was though, it was a way both Light and Dark would kill for but had never come close.

Unless of course Voldemort had. Fifteen years ago he had been reduced to a spirit, wandering the wilderness, gaining strength from the wild animals, creatures too weak to be able to resist him. And then, almost 2 years ago now, he had regained a body. His orginal body was gone but he had composed a new body, one that was stronger but less human. And then two days ago, in the midst of forfilling the dreams of all Dark Lords, he had been struck down, killed with the one curse that had forever been fatal.

'Venganence will be mine.'

The words of a dying Dark Lord.

He would have paid them no heed, except for what happened then. The Rebellion should have won. With Voldemort dead, that final proof Xeoaph had been seeking, the Death Eaters should have scattered, to be cut down by their colleagues, or the Ministry. But nothing of the sort had happened. Lucius Malfoy, with his backing, should have won, not that he'd intended to back the blond for much longer. His only aim had been to restore the wizarding community back to its temporary and precarious balance, so that his kind could continue to marshall their strength.

Who were those two?

Black robes and inky black power. They had driven all assumptions away leaving only questions.

Were they the power behind Voldemort?

Was this new Voldemort only a construct from their power?

Which one of them held dominance?

What was their power?

And why did they seem confident of ressurecting the fallen Dark Lord?

Was Voldemort truly the Dark Lord? Or was he a pawn for such a being?

If Voldemort was truly alive once again, then perhaps he was worthy of the regard given to him by the wizards, worthy of that title they gave all Dark Lords, 'Most Evil'. But if he lived, did he live because of the power of those two, or through the power inheritent in a vampire's blood, or through his own ability? If he lived through their power, was he a puppet, or were they manifestations of the Dark that only served the true Lord? Or was Voldemort still nothing more that a mortal, who tenasiously clung to life?

The battle just past had raised too many questions that had no answers and he could not afford to make assumptions.

If what he told me is true, then he can not weild the power of the Dark, so he is only a Dark Lord, not the Dark Lord.

However, he did wield it for an instant so he must know who the Dark Lord is, and he must in some way be able to communicate with them, enough so that their power is lent to him.

The ancient Vampire nodded to himself. That made sense. If the two fighters who had appeared were servants of the Dark Lord, and had acted to save Voldemort on their masters orders, then there was still a chance the Serpent Lord could be defeated, for surely the Dark Lord knew that the only creatures of true dark were the Vampires and surely the Dark Lord was another Vampire, playing with mortals.

That made sense. The smaller one, though, had obviously been given to Voldemort as a token of good faith, but the taller one was still connected to his master, and was a living channel for their power. He looked down at the empty spaces, his children gone, lost to the power of Dark.

"I will not make the same mistake again."

The Dark Lord Voldemort had to fall, for he was playing with power he did not understand and that should not be used by mortals. The one mortal, if it was a mortal, who did use it, seemed content to remain unknown and Xeoaph nodded. That's why they sent their servants.

Aged blue eyes closed. I will have to help the Light, for they are still to weak, but if the Dark Lord Voldemort is alive through my blood...

The Dark was supporting a Dark Mortal simply because it could. But the power was limited, he had felt that so if Voldemort lived, it was through some other power, a vampire's power.

"I can destroy you Voldemort," Xeoaph hissed, grinning. "I cannot undo the power of my blood but all vampires are subjected to the same laws. I cannot undo it, but my master can.

"You will fall mortal, because the dark will not back you forever and I will be waiting."

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