Copyright and Intellectual Property Issues: This is an original work of fanfiction, however the characters and many concepts and ideas in this work are based on characters owned by other authors. Harry Potter and all characters in this story as well as the settings used in this story are based on the works of J.K. Rowlings in her Harry Potter books and are her intellectual property. The story concept is based upon the book Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay.

Harry Potter and the Dark Passenger

Chapter 1: A Fitting Punishment

Tonight was the night. It would happen again.

I slipped out of my bed and carefully tiptoed on the softly carpeted floor over to my large, ironbound wooden trunk. The sonorous sounds of Ron Weasley snoring were comforting, covering what slight disturbances the click of the trunk opening made. I placed my hand over my belongings and silently intoned within my mind wingardium leviosa, willing my belongings to rise up and carefully settling them on the floor beside my trunk.

Carefully, I lifted out the false bottom of the trunk and removed my tools. Being seen dressed as a Gryffindor outside of Hogwarts while school was in session would draw attention to the exact place I did not want it. Thus I pulled out a simple, non-descript earth-tone robe. If I was seen in this nobody would connect me with my school. Of course, it was unlikely that would happen, since the very next tool I pulled from the trunk was the perfect invisibility cloak I had inherited from my father. According to legend, it was the cloak of Death.

The thought of my father instantly brought up the duality of my mind. On the one hand there were Lily and James Potter. They were my birth parents, but I only knew them through a magical moving photograph and stories told to me by those who knew them in life. Who they were and what they made me was something I was curious about, something I would muse on from time to time.

On the other hand, there was Albus Dumbledore. He was the one who had been my father since the death of Lily and James when I was an infant. All my memories of a father, at least all the memories that made any sense to me, were of Dreadfully Dead Dumbledore. I missed him.

But Dearest Daddy Dumbledore had not left me bereft. He had left me my Code. The Code of Albus. The Code was what kept me hanging on in the light just a little longer.

I took the last two tools from the hidden compartment of my trunk. These were also left to me by my mentor and adopted father, along with a few other items that, fortunately, I did not need to conceal. The first of these hidden treasures was Albus's old wand, a wand he had informed me was none other than the Elder Wand, appropriately called the Death Stick by some. The other item was a beautiful, perfectly forged silver knife etched in intricately powerful runes. I took the knife in my hands and felt the perfect balance, felt the coolness of it in my hands.

Tonight, I would kill someone.

The thrill of that thought froze in my mind as I heard a sound other than Ron's snores. I turned to see what it was. I was annoyed at myself for not having set the magical wards which would alert me to any wanderers or watchers. Albus would not approve.

But the alarm in my mind soon faded as I realized that Ron was not snoring because he was speaking. Talking in his sleep. He was having a nightmare about spiders. Of course, if he knew what I knew about the spiders in the Dark Forest, he would have cause for far worse nightmares. He was not awake, though.

Good. I would hate to have to kill Ron. The red headed Weasley boy's death would undoubtedly draw attention to me, his long time "friend". The youngest of the Weasley children had certainly tried to be a friend to me, and I played the part as best I could. If he were dead I'd have to find someone else to prattle on with about Quidditch or whatever topic normal boys discussed.

And of course, I know Albus would not like it if I killed Ron. I wouldn't want Albus to feel ashamed of me.

After donning my work robes and levitating my books and possessions back into my trunk, I was ready to go to work. I could feel the shadowy presence in my mind getting excited. In truth, this was not my work alone. I shared it with my Dark Passenger. The Passenger was always there with me, sometimes urging me to action, sometimes warning me of danger. It was the only one who really shared my life completely.

Putting the invisibility cloak over my shoulders, I walked past Ron and out into the Gryffindor Common Room. I walked over to one of the pictures sitting on a desk. Albus Dumbledore, former headmaster of Hogwarts and my mentor stepped into the painting with a sad smile. "Off again so soon, Harry?" he asked me through the painting. I looked at him sadly and tenderly put my finger on the frame.

"Don't get caught," I said. Then I felt the familiar sensation of being whisked through the air, pulled by a magical force triggered by the portkey. Before coming to my journey's end I began kicking my feet to magically slow my descent. Otherwise I would have crumpled to the ground.

I put the small portrait back in a pouch within my robes and threw the invisibility cloak back over my head. It was time to stalk my prey.

I stepped out through a blind alley behind a row of houses in the magic district in London. Here I was in Knockturn alley again, where I had spent each night for several weeks preparing for this event. I had studied my prey each night, making sure he fit the Code and making sure it would be a clean kill. I'm a tidy monster.

Quirinus Quirrel. The man had long been a Professor of Muggle studies at Hogwarts. Then he had become the school's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for a year, but had not been rehired after exhibiting some erratic behavior. Erratic behavior was a mild way of putting it. Quirrel had become a very, very bad boy.

Sometime during his year gaining "practical experience" in facing the Dark Arts, he had become seduced by them. He had joined the Death Eaters, though without Voldemort there, he had not received a Dark Mark. Still, part of joining required the killing of a non- pureblooded wizard. Quirinus had taken to the practice and found he liked it. Once a week he met with other of these neo-Death Eaters to discuss what they would do to gain power and specific witches or wizards they felt would make for good high-profile targets.

I waited outside the dark laboratory where the Death Eaters met. I could feel my heart racing with anticipation. All of my senses were on edge, sharpened and attuned to any sign of interruption. The light in the building went out. The Death Eaters were preparing to depart. One by one they would take hold of their portkeys and disappear.

All but one did. Quirinus Quirrel was in for a little surprise. I had replaced the candlestick he had been using for a portkey with another candlestick and enchanted that candlestick to take him somewhere else. Right about now he'd be arriving where I was about to go. I pulled out a galleon that I had made into a single use portkey and said the words, "Be sure."

I appeared right where I planned to be. Behind Quirrel. Drawing the Elder Wand I spoke my spell aloud. "Petrificus Totalus." Quirrel tried to resist, but power of the wand was just too much. He fell over to the ground. I quickly took his wand and got to work. We were deep in the Dark Forest where no witch or wizard would be visit, but there were many things that might. So I had, unfortunately, only so much time.

I silently thought "levicorpus" in my mind and moved Quirrel's body to the leaf covered rocks which I had prepared ahead of time. Then I thought "incarcerous!" and thick ropes rapidly began tying the dark wizard up. It was just a matter of time before the former Dark Arts teacher managed to break free of the spell I had him bound wi—

Quirrel's hand shot forward at me and he spoke the words, "Avada kedavra!" A beam of sickly green light shot at me and hit me in the chest. It made me wince a little.

I pulled down the hood of my invisibility cloak so that he could get a good look at me. "Really, Professor, did you really think my mother went to the trouble of protecting me from Voldemort's Killing Curse just so that you could cast the same exact curse and kill me now?" He attempted another curse, this time silently, but I read his intent and easily blocked it away with the Elder Wand. Other wizards with wandless magic were annoying.

"You're making me rush this much more than I rather would, Professor. But, I guess I can't blame you." I pulled out my knife from within my robe. I watched as Quirinus's eyes went wide in shock and fear. "Wait, P-P-Potter! WAIT!" he screamed.

Too late. I needed to do this. I brought the knife down to his cheek and drew his blood with it. I let the knife stay in his flesh for a few moments, feeling the sweetness of the cut. I could hear him whimper. So, pathetic. He could kill others with bravado, but when it was his turn all he felt was fear. No bravery at all. It was no wonder this sniveling man wasn't fit for Gryffindor when he was a student here.

I drew the knife away and then hopped up to sit on the rocks with my former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Now we can relax. Just take a look at the pictures here. Take a good look and see them." Quirrel looked. His eyes opened in fear and recognition. They were pictures of the wizards and witches he had killed since becoming a Death Eater. They prowled around their picture frames pointing accusing fingers at the wizard tied to the rocks.

"No, Harry, I didn't d-d-o what you th-think. I've been framed!" Quirinus Quirrel tried pleading with me.

"LEGILIMENS!" I drew his mind to every act of murder he committed as a Death Eater. One by one I took out the memories, holding them before his eyes, and the placing them in a special container, the silvery filaments filling it up.

"P-P-Please, Harry. D-D-Don't kill me. I had no-no choice! I'm s-s-s-s-orry I killed them. Please, Potter. What would D-D-Dumbledore think?" I looked at the pictures to consider his question. That's when Quirinus thought he could take advantage and shouted, "Crucio!"

He hadn't realized it yet.

"Another unforgivable curse, Professor? Not a very good way to plead for mercy, I must say." I looked him directly in the eyes so that he could see what was awaiting him. "Truthfully, what Dumbledore would think means a great deal to me. Fortunately, though, I'm pretty sure he would approve. You are a Death Eater and have killed many with your magic." I paused. "But it doesn't matter anymore, does it? You can't hurt anyone with your magic now that you have no magic. I've taken it from you."

Quirrel looked at me with a sense of loss on his face. He knew I was telling the truth because he could feel that his connection to magic was gone. "I see, Mr. Potter. You've made me what I have come to hate. Non-magic." All trace of stuttering was gone from his voice. He was no longer trying to gain sympathy. "A truly ironic and fitting punishment."

I looked at him with a touch of anger on my face. "You think that you losing magic is the same as these people losing their lives?" I smiled in a manner that had to be frightening. "I didn't take your magic from you to punish you. I took your magic from you so that I can work without you interrupting me with annoying curses." His eyes went wide. "I'm going to give you the punishment that both you and I deserve."

Then I stabbed the knife I held straight through his chest.

He screamed for a while, but I was used to that. I wasn't worried about him drawing attention. I was close enough to finishing that I was about to call for attention myself. I carved the dark wizard into small pieces leaving them on the rocks and leaves I had specially prepared to turn to ash once the job was complete. Finally, with each piece cut up into bite-size pieces, I sat back and looked at what I had done in complete satisfaction.

"ARAGOG!" I shouted out with my voice projected. No sooner had I shouted his name than a large horde of spiders leapt out and rushed to consume the pieces of flesh I had left for them. The giant spiders gave me a wide berth in deference to their mother. Or, perhaps it was in simple recognition of a fellow magical monster.

I just tried to be a good little monster.