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Tarnished Lion	By : InvidiaRed Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 56639 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I make no money off of this fanfiction. Harry Potter and its world isn't mine. Any and all resemblance is entirely coincidental. Again, All fun and practice.

Chapter List
- 47
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- 49
Leo put away dear old Harry. Bless that dead heroic boy who never left the graveyard.

Soon, he would be free of that particular albatross. That wretched

The Dark Lion Leo would remain. Until then... Leo took a deep, rasping breath to steady himself.

The air tasted of despair, and for a moment, Leo's brow furrowed.

Why?

He shrugged and pushed the thought away.

He could admit to himself this endless caricature of Harry was an annoyance. It was an ever-present splinter in his skin. A thorn that worried deep inside sensitive flesh.

He breathed the night air as he twirled his wand in his hand. He kicked his feet off the side of the rooftop.

Vengence was near.

The thought brought a smile to the burgeoning dark lord.

London's darkness was so very lovely. Oh, it seemed all prim and proper.

Beneath that pristine varnish that muggles like Vernon tirelessly slaved over to keep up the appearance that everything was alright.

It was an admittedly a beautiful lie.

However, no matter how resplendance, how stately and noble a facade was.

A lie it remained. A lie that it would always be.

In this little muggle world, they killed one another over?

This glittering pile.

It was rotten...

Its heart far more in line with a sewer than anything approaching the state of grace. It was a hellscape and the worst part of all.

Muggles were proud of it.

This polished turd was septic in the worse possible way.

Leo's emerald eyes caught the twinkling of London's light; One barely had to take a wrong turn to see how deep the city's darkness went.

He tasted it like a vintage drink. He drank it in slowly to savor it.

It was old, with bountiful flavors muggle iniquity all on display. It poured into him and made him tingle in all the right places.

Perhaps that was the truth beneath it that made wizards and witches distinctly uncomfortable. It was so ridiculously abundant. This untapped shadow of muggles...

It just...

It just didn't have the same... Umpf! The spice that was so critically lacking.

Leo struggled to put it into words in his head as he scratched his platinum blond hair quizzically. Muggle darkness just lacked something integral that wizard darkness inherently had.

The more it coursed into him, the more it filled him, the more it soured as the shadows of muggle men just did not have something crucial.

Not quite at the level of Dudley's health, disgusting tasting drinks Petunia forced them all to drink.

As though his issue wasn't self-restraint, Why had he deserved to further suffer for the enabled obesity and willful neglect of a worthless aunt who should have loved him?

Leo would fix that in time as well. Neither Vernon nor Petunia had even begun to feel the first taste of his displeasure. They would suffer long before he allowed them to die.

They would never EVER see their beloved precious duddykins. Their Dinky Diddydums, their Dudders, their Ickle Dudleykins and Popkins.

For what greater punishment for vapid muggles could there be? Then, to ensure that which they upheld so passionately was set beyond them forever out of reach. Their "perfect" little world was upended with such a missing piece.

It would do in a pinch.

It was a slow, lingering vengeance; every day, his revenge unfolded. Each day, the cut reopens.

A death by a butter knife was a death all the same.

PIG was what he was: slovenly unless controlled.

Leo snorted, just another aspect of muggles that failed him.

He saw the vehicle lights, and he couldn't help but find it precious; it was quaint that the muggles had to advance so far to surpass what wizards could do!

He doubted they could teleport, though! Numbers and technology were the only things keeping muggles at the top with their absurd supremacy. In contrast, wizardkind had to hide to protect themselves from these muggle nutters.

And they were nutters. Nutters that has subsumed wizard's rightful place, and that why was the world was rotten.

He chuckled softly to himself; He would fix that eventually. All things had a weakness. But he had to admit the statue of secrecy probably helped muggledom more than it did the hidden world of wizardry.

Even muggles, but that would have to be for later when he was mighty and knew his own power.

Until then... A wolf howled in the distance, and a smile slid across his face.

"Ah! What beautiful music they make!" The wizarding world just didn't give Fenrir enough credit!

Werewolves could be useful!

It was the signal; the plan was set!

Fenrir and his get would do their part.

And for Leo... Well, at long last.

Justice!

The dark lion lept off the building.

"Arresto Momentum!"

He landed safely on concrete as he hurried towards the industrial area.

The werewolves would attack from the opposite direction, a two-pronged assault.

He breathed in as he felt longing in his wand.

"Soon." he chuckled, as his trainers slammed against the concrete, and he trembled, eager for combat.

Right before the warehouse, close to the sex shop, was this industrial area.

There was a wift of something strange in the air. Leo hit a barrier midway through crossing a chain link fence.

It was an unseen thing, as if the air prevented his trespass... and then he was through.

It was strange, unlike wizarding magic, but he felt a queer force. An artificial pull that suddenly dragged him onwards; he fought it for a moment.

He could fight it off, but... This was useful as the backdoor of the building opened of its own accord to allow him through.

He went with the flow, not controlled but merely observing this strangeness. Despair, grew thick.

Leo had inadvertently found the foul wellspring. He was unaccustomed to the dark feeling attempting to force itself through his pores.

Leo would set this place right. This he promised, For a dark lord kept his promises even here bathed in the sheer wrongness.

Leo would wait for the perfect moment to strike.

  Fenrir didn't know why he answered that call. Nor particularly did he care. The moon was so close he could practically taste it. Tomorrow it would be. So close! So far! He lamented internally.

Blood sprayed as his claws found purchase in fragile flesh. The warm fluid coated his skin as the metallic tang of that familiar red found purchase in his nose.

"Thank you." The formerly mute attacker whispered.

For once, Fenrir didn't know what to do. As the man collapsed into an expanding pool of his own red seeping out onto the pavement.

Fenrir punched out with sheer strength as another of these silent, eerie people approached him. He quickly flung her frame, her outstretched arms not a match for a werewolf!

With a bone-crunching thud, she hit a brick wall and slid down it. A chill raced down his spine as her lips moved.

He read her lips. Thank you. Before she crumpled unmoving in a heap.

A shiver ran down his spine; he was not easily disturbed, but this...

This was something else entirely.

This was something that even the beast found unnerving.

A distinct wiry word bubbled up from his youth.

Inhuman

A word that had long since lost its meaning for him...

Until now.

Something unutterably inhuman was at work here. And it needed to be rooted out.

Was that why this rising dark lord paid a visit? He wondered, and yet he pushed it down.

Did it matter? He was going to be paid, and yet... Something stirred within him—something he could not put into words.

This abomination could not be allowed to continue. What if it spread to the werewolves?

These dolls that were enslaved that used to be human but now, now, were bound in ways he didn't honestly know.

It was... mercy to relieve them from this dark fate. He decided abruptly.

He called, his fellows, and his pack replied on the chill night air.

As yet another sluggish man came forward, arms outstretched. And then came more, by the handful, that same expression plastered on their faces.

He couldn't help but feel they were screaming, though no sound rang out.

Fenrir bared his sharpened teeth as the first of his pack mates leaped next to him.

He snarled with wild abandoned; none of them were worthy of his gift.

All that was left, was to put them out of their misery.

That rising dark lord had better pay well for their service. Fenrir allowed the amassing horde to continue their advance towards him. It wasn't very often where the prey came to him, after all.

"Poor muggles."

He uttered. It was not a phrase he thought he would ever speak, yet it was before a crowd of dolls.

It somehow fit perfectly; Fenrir reminded himself to charge extra to this blossoming dark lord. He could be trusted, but he didn't know why he felt that way...

It was as if the night itself had told him. He shrugged and put it out of his mind as the rest of his pack arrived here, just out of sight of the muggles.

"Kill them all."

He rasped, and then Fenrir charged, teeth readied for carnage and his pack followed suit.

"Expulso!"

Barty cried as there was a burst of bluish light, a wall blasted inwards from the force of his curse. Subtle it was not, it was not intended to be!

Barty slinked into the hole that he had wrought into the building.

Currently, there was no one. As he looked around his wand at the ready.

"Give up thy burden of choice, of will!" Barty trembled for a moment as he stilled. He fought the urge for a few moments and then the moment passed without incident.

Nothing was his fault. Not now, not anymore. Barty Jr. Knew he should feel... Something. Anything really.

His master's will was law. His words decree that must be followed lest he perishes in an indescribably painful manner.

He should be furious, he should feel.. At least something.

Right?

Barty could admit there should be feeling there at the betrayal... But was it betrayal?

He himself be bound. He made that choice to choose a new and better master.

He made that choice to choose a new and better master.

For while, Voldermort had been a father to him. Harry was an altogether different beast.

Though he had seduced the boy who had been the boy who lived.

Harry was... Was not distant; he was tangible; he was touchable...

He was fuckable. In a way that his previous lord had been absent. Harry was not.

He was passionate, lusty... Barty Jr. Breathed and pushed the carnal thoughts down.

Barty was going to be tangibly rewarded. He wanted that tight heat again!

A door creaked open loudly.

"Incendio!"

Flames erupted upon the frame of the outstretched armed bastard who was neither stealthy nor lucky enough to greet his entry into the building.

Yet... There was something missing. There was no scream, no sound at all to meet him. Just silence as the flames hungrily lapped at the poor bastard's flesh.

It was not at all like when he helped Bellatrix crucio the longbottoms.

That had been rewarding screams, then silence.

Barty Jr. Pointed his wand at the poor bastard's head; there was a loud bang, and gray matter splattered all over the ground with an unsatisfied thud.

"How sad." He pouted; he wanted to hear screaming, but that was denied to him. It was what his master wanted.

Wasn't it his duty as lover to give it to Harry? Was that what he was? Barty Jr. stopped for a moment; after all, he seduced the boy who lived.

He had laid with him.

He could not deny that the rising dark lord power continued to wax... Indeed, his abilities had outstripped his own with no apex in sight.

It was his lover who had already learned more dark arts without him.

His lord was touchable. Whereas Voldemort had been distant. A chill raced down his spine.

I don't withhold affection as a punishment. His lord was an orphan just like him. He knew the pain of looking in as the world was looking out.

His lord... Was proper to bind him. Barty Jr. Realised, He could touch, he could taste... He shivered as he forced himself not to think of it.

Lest he would be distracted... But he would ask for what he wanted, and his dark lord would give it to him freely.

It struck him keenly... Barty Jr. Was wanted.

He was worthy in the eyes of his lord. His heart clenched at the thought that gripped him so tightly.

He throttled it,... Had he always known it? He would ponder on this later. Afraid of what it meant.

What was this strange feeling? Barty Jr. Wondered, for he did not know. It was a queer feeling, a strange thing he could not name.

It was difficult for him.

Barty Jr., Readied his wand so he would not be caught unaware.

His master needed his competence, and Barty would not deny him.

With a blast of blue light, the door the burning man came from exploded from its hinges.

Distantly, the sound of fighting reverberated off the walls. Barty Jr. Chuckled as the werewolves seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Good for them. His master had him enter from a different direction for a reason.

Barty Jr. bypassed the fighting as he used the hallway.

Bigger than cauldron bags filled with white powder. Rows upon rows of it filled this section of the warehouse.

Barty Jr. didn't blink as he stuck his head in the various rooms and found no one.

There had to be more here; muggles could not apparate. He knew this to be true. He'd spent enough time that people coming into this place had to be going somewhere.

Empty room. He sighed, and went to the another.

"Supply room." He muttered as he came to the end of the hallway.

Where was everybody? Well, besides the fighting, that is. In truth, he didn't know what he was looking for exactly.

He searched room by room, looking for a ladder or a basement.

"Huh." This industrial building was pretty big. Why did it need a basement?

He went over to the basement door, the bold letters upon it proclaiming it.

"Alohomora!" Theif's Friend slammed into some unknown and unseen force that held the door firmly shut.

"Boo!" Barty Jr. Pouted as his charm ominously dissipated without effect.

What could prevent a wizard from access? It wasn't a wizardry that much, he was absolutely certain.

He wracked his brain. He snorted; it wasn't the rudimentary magic of hags, or the primitive magic of the decorations.

"Fairies?" He chuckled; if fairies could do this, there wouldn't be-

A frown flitted through his mind's eye. Whatever had created this barrier was aware of him.

The breath escaped him as he realized what this was.

A lord.

Dull surprise raced over his face. They were scarce and enigmatic.

He aimed his wand at the nearby wall. There had to be a weakness somewhere!

With a burst of blue light, his curse smashed into an unseen barrier. It took him a few moments to find where the barrier ended as two curses slammed into the wretched ward.

The third caved in, revealing steps that lead down.

"Ah, there it is." Barty Jr. Beamed and skipped down the steps.

His master would be so happy with him!

   Before the fall... Came pride.

Such... Presumption deserved punishment.

Leo did his best to not blast the smug bastard the first chance he got. He could feel it; this was one.

This thing was the one who attempted to ruin his life and nearly succeeded.

Leo would not be felled by the same trick that broke the muggles. He was like him, but not.

Leo could feel him. Leo felt him long before he saw the actual bastard.

Rage pooled in his gut that Leo trembled in such festering anger at the sight.

There in front of him, seated at a table on a literal throne, was a positively geriatric figure. So ancient-looking that Dumbledore would be babyfaced in comparison.

Leo had to seriously wonder if most of the world's problems resulted from the simple fact that these ancient folks didn't have the grace or common sense to fucking die.

Royalty, from what he what had learned in school, was simple: A king would pass the crown to his children upon death, and so on and so forth. But what if the king never died?

What if the king was simply too powerful to die naturally? A king that could just keep death at bay. Of that hypothetical scenario, this was the physical answer.

This wasn't a wizard or witch. Or else, his parents would have never died; no, this was something else... Something that could mimic an elderly wizard... Or was it elderly wizards that mimicked them? The thought itself was disturbing.

That something could be that decrepit and yet still live.

Leo would be more than willing to oblige. As sycophants dined at the table with that bastard. Leo was right to put his wand away.

He wanted to observe this entirely unconcerned old thing. As though, Leo hadn't come prepared.

As though, he hadn't brought werewolves. Leo allowed this delusion of control.

It brought a troubling thought to wander freely. What if this wasn't isolated? What if there was more than one of these things?

So powerful that they could deny death. Still holding on to power in a clutch, not even death could break.

To be unbothered with a battle unfolding above them!

Leo would not make the same mistake.

So he passively observed as he stood in line.

Leo was a rising dark lord...

And in his ascendance. He did not share power.

His rising star would not crash due to some worthless old fart who couldn't even die properly.

What utter rot lay behind this curtain? Leo wondered with great distaste.

Leo had a few muggles in front of him in a line.

"Please, no. no." Came a woman weeping a few bodies in front of him.

She was next. Leo could feel something happening. There was pressure. A distinct lack of air as if, this wretched thing upon the throne was pushing out all the air in the room.

Leo struggled to keep the abhorrent fascination off his face.

Whatever it was doing was not wizardry. Not of the wizarding world at all.

The ceiling trembled.

The decrepit thing did the most perversely abhorrent it could; it smiled.

"A wizard?" A chill raced down his spine as that unholy abomination turned its attention to the stairs.

There was but one wizard besides himself.

Leo took a breath and listened...

Leo waited patiently as a spider that waited for its meal to come to it.

For the spider in its webs thought he was the fly, and that would be that ancient thing's last mistake.

Barty Jr. Slowly descended the steps, and with every step, the insipid feeling of foreboding only grew.

He wasn't supposed to be here. Step by step, the growing as the shadows loomed.

At the very end, there was a door. Barty Jr. reached it and, with wordless trepidation, as he was about to perform the unlocking charm.

The door swung open of its own accord. All the air in Barty Jr.'s lungs was forced out by an almighty hit.

His body trembled from the most brutal punch in his entire life. There was a cackle.

A horrid inhuman giggle resounded, echoed, and reverberated As his body took a step and then another.

Barty Jr. Entered the room without his consent. A look of absolute triumph on an ancient-looking thing's face.

And then the room went green. A green so deep Barty could see it through his eyelids.

An all-encompassing ghoulish brilliance all at once. A ghoul star suddenly flared into being.

A voice so soft as to whisper but within those two words held preeminent malice so tangible Barty Jr. Could taste the acrid hate on his tongue, such rancorous wrath. That Bary could take no more and blissfully succumbed to oblivion.

Death reaped a bitter harvest as what had forestalled it for so long was unmade.

In utter appalling silence, a lord fell.

His master's words chased him across the veil of unwakefulness. Hounded him by what Barty Jr had taught his now master was now on grand display.

"Avada Kedavra!"
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Tarnished Lion