Disclaimer: Sadly, Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. Also unfortunate, Riddick and his world belong to Universal. All I own is this particular plot line... yet even that is questionable. TT

Author: Mistina

Beta-Reader: I am currently looking for one. Anyone interested?

Pairings: Harry/Riddick. If you couldn't tell, this is a slash fic. You have been warned!

Synopsis: This is written for Serpent in the Shadows' challenge #6. Here's the summary she wrote for my use:

"UnderVerse - What the Necromongers all strive and live for. The New Lord Marshall Riddick decides that it's time to take his newly won people and go to the one place he had heard so much about - if only to rid the universe of these people and their foul religion. But when his fleet entered, Riddick didn't think that a lush, green forest sitting on the edge of a stone castle and a group of humans clothed in 'dresses' pointing sticks at them, being led by a green-eyed man, was what the Necros had in mind."

Additionally, I'm using the canon of the Riddick series and the HP cannon up to DH... I changed the end because I really did not like DH... .;

Author's Note: First, I haven't written a fic in YEARS and this is a piece written on impulse, thus un-beta'ed and not planned thoroughly. (note, I do have a plan, I just haven't planned this out as thoroughly as my other stuff...)

Second, I decided to take up this challenge because I adore Serpent in the Shadows' fic, "Worth the Wait" and discovered, to my astonishment ( and probably to the astonishment and disgust of my friends ), that there aren't enough Harry/Riddick fics. If you like slash, GO READ IT! ( after reading this, of course. ;; )

Third, since we're on the topic of slash, this is my first... sooo...

Flames will be tolerated but reviews (with constructive criticism) would very much be appreciated. So, please R&R.

-- -•- --

Convert or Die

-- -•- --

Necromongers: A faith driven race of unknown origin. They travel from planet to planet seeking the UnderVerse, their promised land. At each planet they present an ultimatum - convert or die.

-- -•- --

Prologue

"You Keep What You Kill."

The monochrome world around him seemed to ripple at these words as, one by one, the darkly clad Necromongers knelt before him. The defeated voice, in tandem with the sudden wave of movement around him, jerked him from his contemplations.

In his exhaustion, he had completely forgotten the creed this race lived by. Lowering his right hand from his temple, it came into contact with metal: a throne. It was then that the full implications of that creed struck. He had killed their leader. He was now their leader.

Flashback

He found himself encircled by 163 undead soldiers in full armor as well as armed to the teeth. Behind them were 37 Necromonger nobles, and 23 more watched from the balcony above. He wasn't surprised. After all, it was he who crashed the Lord Marshall's party by diving at the Necro leader itself with a dagger he had claimed from one of the creature's own men.

There he lay in a battle ring composed of steel clad, faith driven soldiers, in sight of the very creature who ruined his playground by destroying world after world. The monster who destroyed both his ties to humanity, Imam and Kyra, leaving him exactly where he started: Empty and without purpose. The Necromonger leader immediately made a fatal mistake.

"Stay your weapons. He came for me."

That command had prevented the humanoid battle ring from collapsing in on itself and engulfing him in the process. He instantly crawled for his dagger. Once armed, He began to rise when the female Necro at the Lord Marshall's side lowered her hood. He froze. It was Kyra.

"Consider this: If you fall here, now, you'll never rise. But if you choose another way, the Necromonger way..." The bastard beckoned her. "Go to him."

"It hurts, at first, but after a while the pain goes away just as they promise." she told him as she approached.

What had they done to her? Was she really one of them now? If she was, she would have been better off as ash on Crematoria's surface. First she's dead, next she's the enemy. It can't be true.

"Are you with me Kyra?" She ignored him and continued.

"There's a moment when you can almost see the UnderVerse through his eyes. He makes it sound perfect. A place where anyone can start over."

"Are you with me Kyra?" Again, she ignored him and walked past him without another word. His silver gaze followed her as she left, every step she took heated his blood until it boiled. Twice, now, he had lost her. Now, he had nothing.

"Convert now, or fall forever."

"You killed everything I know." He stated under his breath, tightening his grip on the hilt of his dagger. The blade soared at the Lord Marshall's face, grazing the right cheek as the creature just barely pulled out of the way.

"It's been a long time since I've seen my own blood." The monster stated cooly as it held out the blade that had disfigured it, motioning for its guard to give them space. Thus the battle began.

The Lord Marshall came at the him with incredible speed. It was like battling a ghost, as it was never where you saw it. The silver eyed warrior only got a couple of punches in where as the Necromonger pummeled him until he hit the floor.

"These are his last moments!" it declared to his guard and the nobles watching, then crouched next to his felled enemy, placing a hand on each side of his face. "Give me your soul Furyan." it commanded, as it pulled and the said Furyan's soul slowly emerged.

"Fuck you!" The Lord Marshall was blown off his feet as the silver eyed one successfully resisted and, as the Necromonger's guard was down, hit him with all his strength.

He bled. It had been a long time since, he too, had seen his own blood. Not since the planet with the night creatures.

The battle raged on, still in the Lord Marshall's Favor. Just as it seemed like he was about to die, locked in the Necro's suffocating embrace by a spear, the creature's grip on the weapon suddenly slackened as it staggered forward. Kyra had snuck up on it and stabbed it in the back, literally. His joy was extremely short-lived as the undead man struck his assailant with the spear, sending her flying backwards into a decorative spike.

She fell limply to the ground.

The silver eyed warrior watched as the light was slowly flickering out in his dear friend's eyes and his rage reached new levels. At that very moment, the Lord Marshall's first in command attempted to usurp its power. Using its ghosting abulity, the Lord Marshall attempted to escape only to find himself face to face with a vengeful Furyan who immediately implanted the Necromonger blade into the creature's skull as it fully materialized, snapping the blade from the hilt, leaving it in lodged in the monster's brain.

As confusion erupted throughout the massive vessel, he immediately went for Kyra's still body. As he cradled her in his arms, she spoke feebly.

"I thought you were dead."

"Are you with me Kyra?" He knew the answer already. This time, the question meant 'Are you staying with me, Kyra?'.

"I was always with you." she immediately replied passionately, tearfully. "I was." and she was gone.

Physically and emotionally exhausted, he hoisted himself up on the nearest piece of furniture available...

End Flashback

In that moment, blinded by bloodlust, there was only him and the Lord Marshall. Having lost all sense of purpose, but one, vengeance, 'consequence was lost in the bloody haze of fury.

When that the haze lifted, grief clouded his mind in its place. However, though still grieving, he was now faced with the consequences his boiling blood and wounded heart had screened. With the Lord Marshall's blood on his hands, he now held the title, the rank.

Twin pools of liquid mercury slowly swept over the vast, metallic and macabre room and all its occupants whom reflected the decor. Though his eyes could only register heat signatures, the interior of the mother-ship a dead purple and the so-called undead were undulating humanoid outlines of white and pink, not all details were lost to him. Especially the irony that this undead empire now served him, a Furyan, a coldblooded murderer. An unexpected perfect match. Or, not quite so unexpected. He glanced at the air elemental that found her way into the crowd.

"A young warrior once consulted a seer. He was told a child would be born on the planet Furya - a male child - who would someday cause the warrior's downfall."

A smirk tugged at his lips.

He had lost all that anchored him to humanity, all that kept him from living up to his reputation. Well, not fully living up to his reputation. Perhaps, considering the circumstances he currently found himself in, he could actually become what the universe had labeled him to be, what his blood cries out to be.

Fuck you, Aereon.

-- -•- --

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter."

A young boy with untamable black hair, clad in a dark robe with a lion emblem stitched upon the breast sat in a large circular room before a claw-footed wooden desk. The walls were adorned with many portraits all of which seem to look upon the boy, Potter, with sympathy. Potter seemed to avoid the gaze of one portrait in particular, that of an aged man with a long silver beard, a crooked nose and melancholic twinkling eyes behind half moon glasses.

"I am most relieved that you have decided to complete your education."

Potter still did not reply to the woman behind the tidy desk. Her greying brown hair pulled back tightly into a bun, her face drawn and weary, yet stern, and her two beady eyes gazed upon her student through square glasses, worry evident though she tried to hide it.

"Did you still wish to become an Auror?"

An Auror? The boy repeated in his mind. Mulling over the question, he began to reminisce, recalling the epic event that had occurred no more than two months ago. The cause of the unwanted pity he was receiving.

Flashback

The time has come for the prophecy to be fulfilled.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."

He stood in the ruined Great Hall of Hogwarts. He couldn't believe that Voldemort had the gall to invade the castle, even with Dumbledore gone, murdered the year before. Come to think of it, maybe it wasn't so strange after all. The former Headmaster had been murdered in this very school...

However, though the Dark Lord believed he had absolute control over his fate, he did not. After all, the Headmaster had planned to die, had forced professor Snape, the potions master, to kill him. This time would be no different. Voldemort will not have his way. He, no, it will die tonight.

The said creature stood before him, tall and skeletal. It was pale and bald with a snakelike nose and slits for ears. And its eyes, those livid scarlet eyes, slitted, like that of a cat. It was a wild, heartless predator. Those eyes made the boy's blood boil as the faces of his friends, those killed in the war against this crazed homicidal and racist sociopath, flashed before his eyes.

His godfather, Sirius Black, KIA in a battle two years ago in the building tension. His Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, KIA in battle a year ago, igniting the war. Mad Eye Moody, KIA earlier this year in one of many skirmishes. Professor Snape, KIA when he was discovered as a spy by the Dark Lord an hour earlier. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Nymphandora Tonks, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey and many other innocents were KIA during this very battle.

The boy tightened his grip on his wand, tears threatened to spill as images of the corpses that were his loved ones painfully cycled through his mind. His blood boiled. Oh yes, this creature would die tonight.

"This ends here, Riddle!" Potter addressed the Dark Lord by his true name to remind the monster of its former mortality, as well as its recently regained mortality.

"Indeed, it does, Potter! With your reuniting with your friends! Avada Kadavra!" The reptilian wizard brandished its wand and shot a green beam of light towards the boy.

Potter brandished his own wand to defend himself, but hesitated when he felt a sudden presence in his mind. It certainly wasn't Voldemort. It wasn't threatening his mind, it was... submitting to it. Hence it clearly was not the Dark Lord surrendering because the vile creature had just cast the killing curse - which, suddenly split. A sliver of the former beam striking Harry and the rest rebounded and struck the dark wizard full in the chest. Both wizards crumpled to the ground.

Out of the darkness, a third wizard emerged, rushing to the side of the prone body of the boy.

"Harry! HARRY!" he shook the boy by the shoulders with inhuman strength, forgetting himself in his panic. The boy stirred.

"...Re-Remus?" he blinked blearily. "Wha-What happened?" They both looked over towards the lifeless heap across the ruins.

"You did it Harry. You've defeated the Dark Lord."

End Flashback

He had later learned that the presence in his mind was Voldemort's wand, the Elder Wand, presenting itself to its new master and it carried out his innermost desire: defeating the Dark Lord. It allowed a miniscule portion of the killing curse to strike its master, only to destroy the shred of Voldemort he carried within. The rest of the spell was forced backwards to destroy the caster once and for all.

Years he had spent fighting. So many had died in his name. Did he truly want to become an Auror. No. He couldn't continue to live as he had, and if he became an Auror, an elite member of the Ministry of Magic's Criminal Justice division, he would do just that.

No, he would not become an Auror. Instead, he will satisfy his hero-complex through prevention. He would prepare the wizarding youth for the evil that lurked in the world.

"No, professor." He paused, raising his head to reveal a pair of magnificent emerald eyes behind round spectacles. His gaze met that of his perplexed Headmistress. "I wish to teach."