DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter.

SUMMARY: It all started with backstabbing friends, mindless sheep, a deceitful and murderous old man and three ancient magical artefacts. Death had been far from happy and made them see the error of their ways. However, Iris Potter wanted her own chance at revenge and Death had approved delightedly. Now the world will witness the rise in power of a witch that many believed to be Light's hope, but will be anything but. Past enemies will be allies and past friends will be enemies. One thing is for sure, no one could ever expect what the near future will bring for the Wizarding World – if the changes will be good or bad, only time will know.

So, this is a new story that had been roaming in my head for some time now. In fact, it's been so unrelenting that I had to write it because I couldn't focus on my other story ''The Next Great Adventure'' as long as I didn't get it off my system.

Frankly, I don't know when I'll update it next, so don't expect another chapter anytime soon. We'll see how that goes. I have some ideas and I've already about 2k worth of words written but I'm not sure where exactly I'll go with this. Still, anyone is free to offer ideas and comments.

Hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: AU, Fem!Dark!MOD!Harry Potter; Light!Bashing – which includes Dumbledore, Granger, Weasley, and others.

WATCH ME RISE

I'm waking up to ash and dust
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust
I'm breathing in the chemicals

I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus
This is it, the apocalypse

Radioactive – Imagine Dragons

PROLOGUE – AN APOCALIPTIC TANTRUM

In the deepest level of Great Britain's Ministry of Magic, hidden amidst the labyrinth-like chambers of the Department of Mysteries, there was an extremely heavily warded room that not even the Unspeakables were allowed entrance. This room, which many speculated about but none was certain of what exactly contained inside, had been guarded this way for many decades now; unauthorized entry by any person – even the Minister for Magic himself – would bring severe punishments to the guilty party, if the wards in the place didn't kill them outright before they were caught.

There was even a well-known rumour from around fifteen years after the room had been first locked down.

At the time, Angus Ormond, an upstart Dark Lord – the first self-proclaimed one after the demise of the Darkest Lord in the last two hundred years, Lord Voldemort – had tried to break in to the room and ended up dying a very painful and slow death, if the accounts from several Unspeakables, who had found the man's gruesome corpse, were to be believed. The dark wizard, who had been previously considered by most another faceless and average Hufflepuff pureblood during his schooling years at Hogwarts (shockingly enough), had already made a name for himself by being considered one of the best curse-breakers in modern times with his very successful work in both Egypt and Greece backing these claims. It had been an utter shock when the people who had known Angus heard of the man's obscure actions and subsequent untimely demise. No one would have ever suspected that Angus had had any predisposition to practise Dark Magic; everyone would swear that he was a Light Wizard through and through. Still, to be so easily defeated by those wards, they had to be very powerful and indestructible, everyone reasoned.

This event only had increased people's morbid curiosity and fear of what was guarded inside. Many figured that it was something so tremendously dangerous that even the idea of trying to study it was completely out of the Unspeakables' prospects – which was really saying something, as this Department's members had no problems in 'playing' with Time, Space, Death and other mysteries that the average Wizard and Witch considered taboo or an impossibility.

Yet, this fact didn't stop the people who knew about the mysterious room to often think about it and curiously wonder what was so extraordinary and dangerous inside it, even after all this time.

Hypothetically, if one could have a glimpse of what was so carefully hidden, they would surely be even more astonished.

In the middle of the average-sized room, inside a rectangular-shaped structure seemingly made of crystal-clear glass, lain a black-haired young woman ostensibly hovering three feet in the air without any support whatsoever. She appeared to be sleeping, her face completely relaxed and her arms resting crossed at her midsection, no unlike the position one was usually in when put inside a coffin to be laid to rest in the unforgiving ground forever.

If the one seeing this had muggle roots, they would certainly be eerily reminded of the old muggle fairy-tales of 'Snow White' or 'Sleeping Beauty'. Unfortunately, there was no prince charming to save the damsel with a kiss.

All around the room, there were hundreds of ancient and foreign runes painted in the walls, ceiling and floor, and they emitted a shimmering light constantly displaying their great power. Even if the person didn't know anything about wards and runes, they would instinctively realize that this construct was something so impressively exceptional that only someone very powerful, magically speaking, would ever be able to create such a thing with any hope of success.

But, what perhaps would shock the person even more was the identity of the woman lying there. The witch once known as the 'Girl-Who-Lived' was now hidden from the world and seemingly sleeping for all eternity.

Throughout her life, Iris Lily Potter had been called many names, ones more reputable than others.

She had been 'little Iris' to her parents and their friends until she was fifteen months old; then, she had been told her name was 'Freak' and sometimes 'Girl' by her nasty relatives until she started Primary School and she had found out that it was a lie, not that they had really cared what the skinny girl wanted to be called. Then, on her eleventh birthday, Iris had learnt the truth about herself and her parents' deaths and the title which the Wizarding World had bestowed upon her – 'The Girl-Who-Lived'.

Throughout her years at Hogwarts, the young witch had been given many other names as well, none of them much appreciated by her, no matter the reason, but once more, the people hadn't care what Iris Potter had to say about it. She had been the 'Heir of Slytherin', a 'Liar', a 'Cheater', an 'Attention-seeking Brat', the 'Chosen One' and finally the 'Defeater of Voldemort' and the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World'.

However, the name that had remained in the memories of the Wizardkind for decades afterwards was 'Dark Lady'.

It was completely unexpected how that had happened. Perhaps, she'd muse later, that really shouldn't have been; after all, the Wizarding World was fickle and unable to formulate an individual thought on their own, sheep as they had always been. Not that she could have ever really predicted what would exactly be her fate.

Nevertheless, Iris Potter had been caught completely out of guard and had paid greatly for her ignorance.

After having defeated Voldemort – against all odds and sensible expectations – the freshly named 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' had foolishly believed that finally she'd have a little peace and the chance to live a somewhat normal life.

Her naïve plans didn't last even forty-eight hours before being ruthlessly and excruciatingly shattered and her life took a turn so unexpected that even now – decades, centuries later? – Iris wasn't completely sure how that had really happened in the first place.

She remembered once feeling deep heartache, grief and betrayal at that unforeseen incident and so much more before she slowly moved on. Times with the people she'd once loved and cared about were no more than hazy memories now, only the hatred and unrelenting need for retribution were the sole emotions that remained.

Not that really mattered at the moment.

The world was ending and Iris Potter, once the one who had fought so hard and given up so much to save it, now couldn't bring herself to care and detachedly watched the end of all things – or what some would call the Apocalypse – the only thought in her mind being that it couldn't end soon enough.

It was general and undeniable knowledge that Death was universal and timeless. Any living being would eventually meet this Entity no matter what means some magicals undertook to delay their encounter. It was simply inevitable.

What only some people had known throughout the existence of this world was that Death had once created three powerful artefacts, which when gathered together would give the possessor some degree of control over Him and great and unique powers that one couldn't gain in any other way.

Admittedly, He had been quite bored at the time but that didn't mean that Death was an idiot. He had created a fail-safe so He didn't end up with a sociopath megalomaniac as a Master. Granted, there wasn't really much that the mortal fool could do against Death (''Perish the thought!'') – they wouldn't have that much power over Him. Still, He didn't care for getting more headaches than the ones He occasionally received from His fellow Entities and their outlandish shenanigans.

For centuries, Death had waited to see who would be the lucky one to finally obtain the much coveted title. Occasionally, Fate had tried to give Him a few hints but He refused. What was the fun in already knowing what would happen in the future? After existing for so long, He had to get some kind of entertainment from somewhere, He had reasoned, or He would become insane – or more insane, rather.

Thus, He had been pleasant surprised when Iris Potter – a young mortal well known in the Immortal Realm due to her role in the Wizarding World; They frequently watched its happenings and commented on it as if They were watching TV, They had too much free time on their hands – had become His new Mistress. And it had been solely by accident, mind, the human girl didn't really know what she had exactly accomplished by being the sole owner of the Deathly Hallows.

Death couldn't have been more thrilled. He was looking forward to what His Mistress would do – finally, something to spice His eternal boring existence.

However, Death's excitement was cut off abruptly when Iris was imprisoned inside an ancient and powerful Egyptian ward, which some believed was once designed to confine Osiris, the Egyptian god of the underworld. This happened right after the witch had been betrayed by her two best friends under the manipulative ways of someone who, for all intents and proposes, the mortals believed to be dead – Albus Dumbledore.

Death was far from happy when He had found out that the Philosopher's Stone hadn't actually been destroyed – there weren't many things He hated more than magical items which could help prolong the lives of mortals and keeping them away from Death's grasp. Instead, the self-proclaimed Light Lord had lied and hidden the powerful artefact to use later on for his own selfish devices.

It seemed that the old wizard had coveted the Deathly Hallows for almost a century now and had been beyond enraged when he found out that Iris had easily accomplished what he had been trying to do for so long.

The man had ruthlessly and carelessly blemished the freshly christened Saviour's heroic deeds, with the prompt aid of Weasley and Granger, by declaring that she was a Dark Witch to the world at large. After all, how could she have been able to survive a second Killing Curse without any kind of damage whatsoever? And being possessed by a Horcrux for seventeen years could only mean that she was becoming Dark, right?

Naturally, the Wizarding World believed the words of the two War Heroes' words like gospel – Dumbledore had coached them well. The man hadn't lost time in creating a new identity for himself and seemingly out of nowhere, Alvis Dumbledore, the self-identified grandson of the late revered Headmaster of Hogwarts, had appeared to continue his ancestor's work.

Thus, Iris Potter went from being called 'Saviour' to 'Dark Lady' in less than two days and the public demanded that she'd be arrested to protect the good people from her evil ways. The young woman's recent heroic actions to save them all from Voldemort were barely a glimpse in their memories now that the danger had passed. The former 'Girl-Who-Lived' disappeared right after that and was never seen again, the public at large reassured that they were safe and free to live their pathetic little lives once more without fear of a dangerous criminal.

For some time, the disguised Albus Dumbledore had tried everything in his power to claim the Deathly Hallows from Iris' possession, but soon he realized that all his efforts were useless. Regardless of what the old man did – Killing Curses, Poisons, anything and everything he could think of – it was clearly impossible to effectively kill the Mistress of Death. So, in a thunderous, desperate, last attempt at triumphing over, in any way, the young witch who had thwarted his carefully laid plans, Dumbledore had built an ancient ward that was once designed to imprison the underworld Egyptian God. Iris could not be killed but that didn't mean that she couldn't be confined through powerful magic and put to sleep for all eternity, he reasoned. The heavy and lethal warding around the room was only a precaution to stop anyone to try and somehow free Iris.

To put it mildly, Death had been furious.

That kind of ancient ward was simply impossible to destroy from the inside, regardless of the great powers the Mistress of Death might have at her disposition (not to mention that she was basically in a induced coma-like sleep, which was a Curse-version of the Draught of Living Death – the dark irony of the name didn't escape Him), and Death Himself could not interfere directly in the Mortal Realm to save His own Mistress. The best He could do was helping Iris regain her conscious from the forceful magical sleep, but she couldn't move her body due to the potent magic holding her absolutely immobile in that forsaken room.

What Death could do – and promptly did – was giving Iris some power to be able to travel in spirit form frequently. She was invisible to the mortals' eyes and was unable to interact directly with anyone. The only way she was able to would be through possession, though she couldn't do it often as it sapped her life energy very quickly but Death reasoned that it was much better than being stuck inside a warded room sleeping forever. (The irony that she was now 'living' like Voldemort had been after she had defeated him for the first time – as nothing more than a wraith – was not lost on her.) This way, the witch could get some answers to the questions running wildly in her head and thus working through her emotions and feelings of betrayal, and, at the same time, learn what had become of the world that she had fought so hard for. Even if the young woman couldn't really do anything by herself for a long time, He was interested in what conclusions His little Mistress would reach when she finally understood that she had been throughout manipulated most of her life and that, in the end, all her deeds and sacrifices had been for naught.

As a rule, Death really didn't care what happened to mortals. Unsurprisingly, He had existed for so long that such things were not even a faint blip in His radar, so to speak; as an Immortal Entity, the beginnings and ends of worlds, or universes for that matter, were little more than small details in His mind.

However, in this instance, it was completely different. Iris Potter had achieved the long coveted position of Master of Death and, as mentioned previously, the Entity had been really looking forward to have some entertainment in His usually rather dull existence. Needless to say, He hadn't appreciated that some measly human had cut His fun rather short.

Now, every other Immortal Deity and Entity out there would easily agree that, among them all, Death was one of the most balanced ones, temper-wise. All of them would concur as well that Very Bad Things happened when His famous Emotional Control was lost. It didn't occur often, but when it did, the event would be rather unforgettable – for the Immortals, that is. Worlds would end, Galaxies would implode and Universes would disappear altogether, when Death unleashed His all-compassing power upon the unlucky mortals who dared to displease Him.

Through millennia, mortals had given it many names: Apocalypse, Armageddon, Judgement Day.

As soon as Death had summoned His three 'brothers' to His presence, every Immortal knew that another such event would happen in the near future. There was only a single conclusion when Death, Famine, War and Pestilence gathered together.

The Four Horsemen were ready and the Apocalypse was once more upon the mortal world.

Although the Immortals could not interfere directly upon the mortal world that didn't mean they could not subtly manipulate certain events to their benefits. They only needed for the mortals giving them the 'tools' and then they would direct them in the right directions.

After Death's ultimate decision, it had taken a few years for His plans to take shape. At first, there was nothing that could be done, but He knew the right chance would arrive soon; He had always been a very patient being.

Around twenty years after Iris Potter's incarceration, the Wizarding World was 'officially' found out by the Muggles – more precisely by the 'religious' kind. To say they were hostile was a very big understatement; the traumatic Salem Witch Trials were like a school-yard brawl in comparison.

Thus, with little input from the Immortals, War was the first to mark the beginning of the end – not that the mortals were aware of what was to come.

For many gruelling years, the Magicals fought for their lives against the Muggles who most had always thought were weaker and beneath themselves. It didn't take long for them to realize that they had been very, very wrong.

Many from the Light Side recalled what Albus Dumbledore had often preached about the Muggles and cursed themselves for being such blind and gullible fools. The Dark Side felt both smugly and grimly vindictive when they finally had been proven right when they said Muggles were a danger to the Magical Society. Not that that really helped them now – there were no more distinctions between Dark and Light, there was only survival and instincts in their minds as all of them did their level best to live another day.

At first, some Muggle-born and Muggle-raised magicals had tried to make things right with their opposition or reach a compromise, however after being some of the first ones being killed by unforgiving massive weapons and advanced technology, they had quickly changed their tune and had to fight for their lives just like everyone else. The Muggles seemed to hate them even more than the Pureblood magicals due to some skewed idea that they had betrayed their own world to side with the enemy, or the 'spawns from evil' as they chose to label the Magicals.

One such Muggle-Born was Hermione Granger. Death had pulled many strings to allow her to live as long as possible, making her suffering lasting in revenge for metaphorically stabbing His Mistress in the back. (Whoever had said that Death was forgiving must have been high or drunk or both.)

Another one was Albus Dumbledore. Granted, he was practically immortal, but in no way invincible. The Philosopher's Stone helped prolong his life; however it didn't cure him from any ailments he had attained due to the Muggle Attacks. He had lived until his last breath as a crippled and suffering old man. Death had somehow managed to inform him that all this had been his own fault and the wizard had spent the rest of his days constantly cursing his past deeds and wondering where exactly he had gone wrong and what he could have done differently, but never really regretting his mistakes or assuming any blame for what had happened. Death hadn't been sympathetic in any way; on the contrary, He had gleefully watched every minute of it, finally feeling a modicum of retribution for the atrocity Dumbledore had done when he had imprisoned His Mistress and had robbed Him of his rightful and much awaited entertainment.

(In her spirit form, Iris had witnessed it all and thanked Death for his 'thoughtfulness'.)

After that, Famine was the second to descend upon the Earth.

Due to the war zones and battlefields everywhere, naturally nourishment was scarce even though a great part of the inhabitants of the planet had died in the war – most in the cross-fire between the two factions.

Almost hand in hand, Pestilence arrived next. All the nuclear and other toxic weapons the Muggles had used started to contaminate the Earth and began to affect the people. Diseases and all kinds of viruses spread quickly and there was not much anyone could do. Neither muggle medicine or protection gears nor magical spells or potions were able to save them from the certain death that awaited all living things.

And then, finally, Death Himself triumphantly descended and took every soul still remaining – which was a rather limited number – into His unforgiving grasp.

Iris Potter had watched the world steadily decline until there was absolutely nothing left.

It was something that she couldn't really wrap her mind around, the fact that now she was the only living being on this planet. There wasn't a single plant or animal roaming the Earth.

Not long after her unfair imprisonment, she had met Death Himself inside her mind and had been told of her accidental achievement and subsequent virtual immortality and that, in turn, had been the reason for her precarious situation.

Understandably, she had raged and cried at first.

Iris got over it eventually, though. If there was something she had learned in her short life was that many unexpected and often impossible things happened to her and that she had to roll with it if she didn't want to drown in self-pity and become insane with the thoughts of the unfairness of it all. So, she adapted.

The fact that she could travel spiritually around the world had also helped a great deal. The chance to understand and gather answers to her many questions were welcome as well. She may have not liked them but she was glad for having them nonetheless.

Death had gleefully and carelessly explained what would happen to the world and Iris could only watch it all happen and never be affected by any of it.

Oh, the witch wasn't under any illusion that Death really much cared for her well-being. No, the closest she could assume her importance to be in Death's priorities was like she was a favoured toy that had been taken away and the Entity had thrown a temper tantrum of veritable epic proportions – something like her cousin Dudley would do as a kid, but in much greater and destructive proportions.

However, after years of being a mere shade of her former self and all the negative emotions that she had felt when been told of the truth reasons and happenings of the fateful day she had been imprisoned, Iris had come to be a rather different person personality-wise and wouldn't go out of her way to try and please everyone as she foolishly had done in the past. She had long ago transcended the point where she cared about what others thought of her – mortals and Immortals alike. The heart she had worn so carelessly on her sleeve had hardened and blackened after that ultimate betrayal and now one goal dominated her mind: make them pay for all the suffering she had gone through. Sure, it was gratifying seeing of what became of them due to Death's anger fit but it wasn't really the same as if she, herself, dished out the retribution.

Death had been rather happy to enlighten her Mistress that her wish was easy to accomplish. When the world was completely destroyed, life and magic would be no more and then the blasted ancient wards that bounded Iris would finally fall and she would be free again.

After that, it was a simple matter, Death had confidently assured her. Iris would be transported to another dimension in the past – practically a mirror-image of this one at least until '92, the point of divergence being that the 'Iris Potter' of this new world allegedly would not survive the basilisk's poisoned bite and thus die in the Chamber of Secrets, steering the future in a very different direction – and then the young witch could start her own plans for revenge.

Eagerly, Death couldn't wait – finally, finally, some real entertainment after all those centuries waiting; his non-existent heart was almost pounding in anticipation.