Disclaimer : I am nothing but a worshipper of the great J.K. Rowling playing in her universe. Anything you recognize is not mine.

A/N : Updated 15-05-2005

DARK PHOENIX

Prologue:

"CRUCIO!"

The fat teenage boy writhed on the floor, screaming his agony. This was pain, pain beyond imagination, beyond comprehension. Every single nerve was burning. It seemed as if his flesh was being ripped apart, layer by layer, and his bones shattered in a million fragments over and over again. And yet, it was worse than even that.

The teenager's parents were watching, staring helplessly as their son was subjected to the worst torture ever conceived. The father was whimpering in fear, little squeaky noises drowned by the hysterical crying of his wife and the soul-wrenching screaming of their teenager.

The wizard was laughing, a cold heartless laugh quite unlike his usual one. Oh, but he was enjoying this. The pain, the screams and the sweet dark power of the curse flowing through his veins… It was delicious, exquisite, ecstatic and utterly overwhelming, a Dark mistress giving him the deepest pleasures imaginable. It was intoxicating, this power, and this was what he was made for. This was what he had been born for. He needed this just as much as breathing.

He lifted the curse off the boy. He didn't want him to go insane just yet. There were still so many ways to give him pain, each more fun than the last. The teen stayed on the ground, his ragged breathing and constant twitching the only signs he was still among the living. His sanity was almost destroyed and he was barely aware of his surroundings.

"What should I do next, hmmm?" the wizard asked the air. "Oh! I know. I believe you are going to love this. I know I will!" He raised his wand and pointed it at the sobbing woman.

"IMPERIO!"

A peaceful expression took over her features. Obeying the seductive voice in her mind, she stood up and went to the kitchen, coming back moments later with the biggest and sharpest knife she had found. She knelt beside her son who was too weak from the Cruciatus curse to do anything more than twitch. The woman grabbed her son's foot and single-mindedly started cutting it off.

"NO!" the husband exclaimed, "Petunia, what are you doing? Stop it! Don't hurt Dudley!"

The wizard just laughed, enjoying the father's horrified expression just as much as the sight of the blood gushing out of the ever-widening wound. She had already reached the bone and her knife was unable to cut through. The wizard ordered her to start on the other foot.

Unfortunately, already weakened from the earlier curse, the loss of blood quickly became fatal to the boy. His breathing stopped in a rasping exhalation and his eyes dulled.

The wizard lifted the curse upon the woman. Upon seeing the mangled body of her son and knowing she was the one who did this to him, she turned the knife on herself and plunged it through her heart.

The wizard laughed again. Oh! this was beautiful! This was delicious!

He turned to the man. A man he hated. A man he was going to enjoy seeing dead. He channelled his hate and said the incantation.

"AVADA KEDAVRA"

Green light flashed and without further ceremony the man slumped over dead.

Harry Potter woke up sweating in his bed in 4 Privet Drive.

He heard his uncle Vernon snoring and his cousin Dudley mumbling in his sleep, both alive and resting in their rooms. Obviously, his aunt Petunia was alive as well.

The dream he just had was definitely disturbing. What was more disturbing was that it wasn't the first time he had had it. It wasn't the first time he had enjoyed it.

What did it mean? Why was he dreaming this, dreaming he was torturing his relatives and enjoying it like this was what he was born for?

Was Voldemort sending him dreams? Why would he do that? What was he getting out of it? It didn't make any sense. Besides, Voldemort had never seen his relatives, had he?

Another possibility crossed his mind, making his breath quicken.

What if this wasn't the influence of the Dark Lord? Was he becoming dark?