DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Reign of Darkness

Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Massacre

It was a sweltering hot night, and Harry Potter was currently lying face down on his bed. The old smell of the pillow his relatives had so 'graciously' provided him with clouded his nostrils, making him scrunch up his nose. He heaved a heavy sigh and with a frustrated grunt, turned around to lie on his back facing the ceiling. Harry hadn't done much of anything else this summer besides lie on his bed and think.

Thinking.

That was definitely Harry's least favorite activity. But unfortunately, there wasn't anything else to do in the summer for Harry Potter. He tried to keep himself busy by doing nearly anything--that even included Aunt Petunia's chores.

Looking toward his window, Harry noticed his dark curtains swaying with what little wind there was. It oddly reminded him of the veil at the Department of Mysteries. Thinking about the veil, the image of his godfather immediately popped up into his head. Harry was never going to hear his bark-like laugh, see his mischievous gleam in his eyes, or even his happy smile whenever he talked to Harry. As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, Harry knew it was his fault Sirius was dead. If only Harry had listened to Hermione and hadn't gone to the Department of Mysteries. If only Harry had opened Sirius' mirror and used it. If only Harry had found another way to contact an Order member. If only Harry had just trusted Snape to do his job for the Order and wait for him to inform the rest of them. If only Harry hadn't had tried to 'be the hero'. If only Harry would have tried harder at his Occlumency lessons. If only....

The list was endless. There were so many things Harry could have done differently to avoid Sirius' death, but didn't. All summer Harry had received sympathetic letters from his friends telling him not to blame himself, but he couldn't help it.

Thinking about Sirius, Harry also couldn't help but think about everyone else he'd indirectly killed. There was Cedric, whom Harry hadn't thought of a lot during the past school year. He figured it would be better just pushing Cedric's death to the back of his mind, but now, Harry thought it an insult to do just that. By now, Cedric would have grown up into a happy young man with a respectable job and a steady and beautiful girlfriend. But because of him, he would never have the opportunity to do any of the things he should be doing. Harry knew that just like with Sirius, Cedric's death was his fault as well.

Of course, Harry couldn't forget about his parents' death either. His fun-loving father, who had courageously attempted to protect his family and stood up to the most feared wizard of the wizarding world. His beautiful mother had given her young life so a little tiny infant could live.

All because of him and the stupid prophecy.

While thinking, Harry didn't realize that his eyes were slowly drifting shut and he was plunged into the activity he hated even more than thinking.

Dreaming.

This summer, Harry had had the same dreams over and over again of Sirius falling through the veil. But this one was very different...

Harry was walking around a set of unusually empty halls. The cold stone walls felt real to the touch as he ran his fingers on them while walking. Harry could almost taste the stale air around him. After roaming for a short time, Harry realized that these were the walls of Hogwarts, the only place he'd ever considered home. The quiet was deafening to Harry's ears. Walking along, Harry was surprised to notice he had practically no control over where he was going. It was like an invisible force leading him to the Great Hall. When he got there, the mysterious force abruptly stopped and Harry tripped but managed not to fall. Pushing the heavy oak doors open Harry saw what he was sure would haunt him for a very, very long time. It was the sickest thing he'd ever seen and he was dangerously close to losing his lunch.

The Great Hall was missing the four house tables as well as the head table and the ceiling was reflecting a dark and stormy sky with the hideous Dark Mark clearly visible. But surprisingly, that wasn't what caught Harry's eyes.

Scattered all around the Great Hall were all of Hogwarts students as well as, Harry noticed, its teachers. They were all dead.

Some bodies were twisted at odd angles, others were very bloody, and there were even some that were missing heads, arms, legs and other limbs.

He couldn't stand the appalling sight in front of him anymore and turned around fully intending on leaving the Great Hall. Harry tried to open the heavy oak doors of the Great Hall only to find they were locked. Harry tried pulling and pushing them harder but to no avail. Starting to panic, Harry reached inside of his trouser pockets to retrieve his wand, only to find them empty. He didn't have his wand on him. By now fully panting and sweating, Harry started to get hysterical and turned back facing the bodies. Making up his mind, Harry averted his eyes from the bloody massacre and quickly ran towards the side chamber of the Great Hall where he first went in his fourth year after the goblet of fire spit his name out. But before he could get even halfway across the hall, Harry tripped on something solid and fell. Recovering quickly with only a painful sting in his right ankle that was sure to leave a big bruise, Harry got up only to fall back down when he caught sight of what he tripped over in the first place.

Right there, staring back at him with a painful expression on his frozen face, was none other than his best friend-Ron Weasley. Biting back a scream, Harry started violently shaking his best friend's shoulders.

"Wake up Ron. C'mon Ron, don't do this to me, you have to wake up. You can't be dead. WAKE UP, DAMMIT!" he cried at the frozen figure hysterically. By the end, Harry was screaming so loud he was sure his lungs were going to explode. Harry couldn't fight the sobs that were threatening to take over his body. Harry and Ron rarely hugged because it wasn't the 'manly' thing to do, but right now Harry was clinging to his limp body as if he were going to suddenly disappear. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry caught sight of something red. Turning fully to see what it was, Harry saw Ron's little sister, Ginny, staring straight ahead at the ceiling. Her neck was twisted at an unusual angle that Harry was sure couldn't have twisted like that in normal circumstances.

Harry was still sobbing when he looked next to Ginny and noticed his other best friend, Hermione. Hermione's usually fairly tanned skin was white as snow. She, just like Ron, was also most probably hit with the killing curse. The shocked expression on her beautiful face broke him into more and more tears.

The castle was still silent except for Harry's continued sobs. Realizing he was still clinging to Ron's robes, Harry quickly let go as though they would burn him and jerkily stood up.

"I have to get out of here," Harry stated out loud once again starting to panic. With one last anguished look at all of his friends, Harry started to run once again towards the side chamber door next to where the head table used to stand. Dodging bodies and limbs while running, Harry finally reached the door. Harry didn't hesitate twisting the door knob to open the door.

It was locked.

By now Harry was hysterical and hyperventilating. Looking around himself, Harry froze. About ten feet away from him, lay a very bloody Albus Dumbledore. His usually beautifully assembled attire was ripped and bloody, and his shining white beard was smeared with dirt and blood. But to Harry the scariest thing about him wasn't any of the blood, but rather his eyes. His eyes, which Harry had always looked into to receive comforting and hope, were totally expressionless and cold and had absolutely no sign that a twinkle belonged in them. The eyes were staring exactly at him, pinning him down with their dull intensity.

That's when Harry broke down completely. Turning away so he was facing the wall away from all of the bodies and Dumbledore's eyes, Harry sobbed the hardest he'd ever done in his life.

He cried for what felt like years until a continued sharp tapping on the side of his head lulled him out of his horrendous nightmare.

Opening his wet eyes, Harry saw Hedwig's concerned eyes staring back at him. Looking around himself, Harry thankfully realized he was back in his small bedroom at Pivet Drive.

Harry was still shaking violently. Panting, he quickly got out of his sweat covered bed and walked a few steps toward his window. Looking outside, Harry noticed it was dark already and that he must have been dreaming for at least a few hours. Harry inhaled the cool night air deeply and exhaled just as deeply.

Harry sat there staring out his window for what felt like hours trying to get the horrendous images out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, Harry either saw Ron's scared face staring back at him, or Ginny's twisted body that used to be so full of life, or Hermione's white face. The worst were Dumbledore's accusing eyes, void of any twinkle, staring back at him.

Shaking his head as if swatting away an annoying fly, Harry got up from his place by the window to tip-toe outside of his room towards the bathroom. The Dursleys were all already peacefully asleep and he struggled to remember the last time he, himself, had a restful sleep.

Turning the sink tap all the way to cold, Harry cupped his hands and splashed the freezing water over his face. Looking up into the mirror, Harry noticed his dripping face was pale and he had dark circles under his eyes. Grabbing a comb from the nearby counter, Harry started combing his hair to at least try to improve his appearance a little in case some unexpected visitors came like last year. He didn't want to scare them to death by his appearance. Over the summer, Harry had grown a few inches, making him looks skinnier than ever. At the thought of Ron, Harry's mind instantly returned to his nightmare and Ron's motionless body. Shaking his head and putting the comb down, Harry noticed his hair was still sticking up in all different directions and still looked like it had never been brushed before. 'I guess some things never change' Harry thought amusingly. Harry opened the bathroom door to go back to his room when he accidentally hit his right ankle on the sharp edge of the door. Quickly overcoming the stab of pain, Harry looked down and lifted up his pant-leg to notice a big bruise. Noting that it couldn't have formed so fast, and not remembering any bruises from before, Harry stared dumbly at it for a few seconds trying to remember where he had got it. Shaking his head in mild confusion, Harry walked toward his bedroom.

Opening the door, Harry gasped.