Disclaimer: As sad as it may seem, I do not own anything recognizable. It all belongs to other people. The characters, settings, etc. belong to JKR. The title of this story is taken from Edgar Allan Poe's poem, Dreamland. The plot is, as far as I am aware, my own.

And a huge thanks to Archangelraphaelsdaughter (henceforth referred to as 'Dray') for being my beta - that is, for keeping me in line and on topic

Haunted by Ill Angels

Prologue

The night was frosty, the wind howling as it swayed the branches of trees. The few children still trick-or-treating pulled their coats tighter around their small bodies. Parents hurried the children, ushering them home before it became too dark to see. If they had truly looked, they would have noticed the two adults who were not out with children on that Halloween night. Someone looking closely would have noticed that one of those men was over a foot shorter than the other, and that this young man – for he could not be over 25 – possessed many rat-like features; he gazed with beady eyes up at his companion, his hands rubbing together nervously. The other man, the taller of the two, was even more inconspicuous. Certainly no one noticed the pallor of his skin, the short dark hair. Even his eyes, an unnatural red, went unnoticed. He had an ageless quality to him, as if he had not aged a day over thirty, despite the endless knowledge that his demonic eyes possessed. As they walked by, the muggles never even noticed the strange robes that the two men wore; dark and billowing in the wind. But no one could deny, as they walked by the empty lot where a house should have been, that they felt as if they were being watched; that some ill angel was haunting them.

The wind blew harshly, and the cloaks of the two men snapped around their ankles. A sign nearby rattled on its post, declaring the town's name to those who sought it. Godric's Hollow. The two watched the house before them, revealed only because the rat man had known the Secret. The howling increased, and the smaller of the two had to strain his ears when the taller spoke.

"You have served your master well, Wormtail."

The young man – Wormtail – was so overjoyed by the praise from his master, so rarely given, that he didn't notice the other man moving up the steps toward the house. He rushed forward, nearly bumping into his master when the man stopped abruptly, sneering at the door.

"Lily – take Harry – up to the nursery!" a male voice shouted from behind the door – James, Wormtail thought sadly, for some part of him still held his childhood friend close in his heart. But not too close, the small voice in the back of his head spat bitterly. He didn't even notice when his master blasted open the door; all he knew was that he was there, and James was there, staring at him in horror – he wasn't even looking at Wormtail's lord; he saw right past the tall man, through him, seeing only the friend who was more a rat than a man.

"Peter-" James began, but his sentence broke off when he finally noticed the threatening man staring down at him. "Voldemort."

"Y-you will n-n-not speak about my l-l-lord that w-way," Wormtail stuttered, cowed by the accusing glance of his once-worshipped friend.

James' attention returned to his Secret Keeper. "Peter, you-"

"Enough!" shouted Voldemort, his patience disappearing as quickly as his wand was raised. "Avada Kedavra."

Wormtail stared, horrified, as the man he once idolized crumpled to the floor, lifeless eyes staring at the short man in betrayal. He swallowed thickly, forgetting his master, who was sneering at him imperiously. He never even noticed as the wand was pointed at him, as the words for the killing curse formed themselves on the man's thin lips once more.

The last thing Wormtail saw was a green light identical to that which had taken his friend's life.

Lord Voldemort gazed unconcernedly at the body of Wormtail. The man had been no use to him after sharing the Potters' Secret. The man knew that the rat stayed by his Lord's side out of fear, and not reverence. What use was a wizard so pitiful? He was a vermin, worth as much as his pathetic little name.

The words of the prophecy that led him to work with the rat brought him back to the present, and he looked up from the motionless bodies and toward the stairs. In this house, only a breath away, the child who could defeat him was waiting to die.

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...

The Dark Lord continued up the stairs of the small home, his robes billowing imperiously about him as he stalked through the hall of the second floor. He followed the sound of breathing; his senses heightened exponentially due to the many rituals he had undergone to create his perfect body. He broke the wards on the door with ease, blasting the wood away with a flick of his wand. A bit much, perhaps, but Voldemort had always had a flare for the dramatics. Stepping over the wooden shards of what was once the nursery door, the man crossed the threshold, finding himself face to face with a very distressed Lily Potter.

"Step aside, woman," Voldemort demanded coldly, lifting his left hand to point his wand at the Mudblood.

The woman stood stubbornly in front of the infant, her arms raised to either side in a defensive manner. "Not my Harry; not my baby boy," she pleaded, her eyes watering hopelessly. Her green eyes shone with her distress as she stared into the face of the greatest Dark Lord of the century.

"Your life does not have to be sacrificed," he said, offering a gift to her that no other had received before; a gift offered to her because one of his most trusted men had asked it of him. Her life was a reward to Severus Snape for delivering such crucial information. If this woman was too stupid to accept something so treasured, that was her problem, not his.

"No, not Harry," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks now.

"I will only offer this one more time," he said impatiently, his anger becoming evident in his elegant features, "step aside or die."

The woman was shaking her head desperately, trying to shield her one-year-old son however she could. She turned, scooping up her boy and cradling him to her chest as she attempted to run.

"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort said dispassionately. The woman had had her chance. He looked down at the woman coldly. He didn't understand why Severus had wanted her life spared. He could admit that the woman had some redeeming qualities – he could see someone as human as Severus falling into those eyes, for instance – but her annoying stubbornness was enough to dissuade such petty feelings.

He turned away from the woman, lifting his wand to the dark-haired babe. His lips curled into a sneer as he faced the child who could have destroyed him.

"Avada Kedav-"

He wasn't sure what stilled his words. Perhaps it was the untapped power that resonated around the child's body; or maybe it was the fact that the boy's eyes were more aware than they had any right to be for someone so young. They pulled him in, and Voldemort started when he caught himself staring into them. But the child didn't cry as he gazed into the Dark Lord's crimson eyes – and that, he thought, was what really gave him pause. The boy – Harry, he recalled distantly – was quiet as he gazed up at the man. Despite the fact that the child was still in his dead mother's embrace, despite the fact that those emerald eyes knew things that no infant should be able to comprehend, the damned child was just sitting there, looking at the man who had murdered his parents not minutes before; and the boy was smiling, and for just an instant, Lord Voldemort ceased to exist; replaced for some small amount of time by Tom Riddle Jr.

Against his screaming instincts, Lord Voldemort crouched down so that he was eye-level with the babe. He wasn't sure when he had stowed his wand, but he noticed then that the hand he reached out to the boy definitely wasn't holding the familiar 13 ½ inches of yew. And then the Dark Lord realized that the boy was reaching back, his own small arm straightening out as his petite right hand grasped onto Voldemort's larger left—

—And in the span of a heartbeat, the magic swirling around the two wizards converged on them; centered where their skin connected, and it was endless agony. Voldemort cried out in pain the same as young Harry did, ripping his hand away from the tiny fingers that grasped it. He felt like his hand was burning, and he cradled it delicately; an action that would have meant instant death to any who witnessed it.

The boy was crying now; an appropriate reaction for the events of the night, but still annoying, and Voldemort decided that he had lingered long enough. He had spent more than enough time losing his mind around this infant, and could stand it no longer. He would go insane around the boy, he knew, for already he had done many things that he would not otherwise dream of. He stood, burning hand forgotten, and glided from the room, down the stairs, out the house. He paid no mind to the bodies on the floor as he passed them, knowing full well that they had deserved their deaths, facing someone as great as Lord Voldemort and expecting to survive. Besides, the Order would be arriving soon, he was sure, and he hadn't left his message yet.

Voldemort lifted his wand into the air with his right hand, his gaze focused on the palm of his left. His voice was devoid of any feeling as he murmured, "Morsmordre," sending the green sparks into the sky to form the skull and snake, the Dark Mark. He was still staring at his burned hand as he apparated away, rare fascination etched on his features.

The magic had burned a mark in the shape of a lightning bolt into the skin of his palm.

~Haunted by Ill Angels~

"Expelliarmus," Sirius Black shouted, waving his wand with a flourish at his cousin.

"Crucio," Bellatrix Lestrange volleyed as she dove behind an armchair in the Longbottoms' residence.

"You'll have to do better than that, Bella," Sirius taunted, a lopsided grin on his face as he dodged the Unforgiveable. "You call yourself a Death Eater? Death Nibbler is more like it." Despite his easy banter, his gray eyes were hard, betraying his true anger.

Bellatrix screamed angrily; forgoing the spell and diving at her cousin, teeth bared and long fingernails sharpened to claws.

Sirius dove out of the way, his body shifting as it lost its human form, only to be replaced by a great black dog. The dog, resembling a Grim, bared its fangs at the woman who was now holding him at wandpoint. A guttural growl escaped its maw as it stalked toward the woman, its ears pressed back against its head and its hackles raised. For a moment, the Death Eater hesitated, and the dog took its chance; lunging forward and using its massive size to pin the woman to the ground. It snapped its teeth together inches from Bellatrix's face, and she growled right back at it, her insanity showing itself at last.

"That's quite enough, Sirius," an elderly voice said from the doorway, before a light flashed and the woman became quite still. "Alice and Frank are safe now; they'll recover quite nicely."

The dog nodded, moving from the woman and shifting back into Sirius Black before the old man in the doorway could blink.

"The Aurors have already been alerted and are on their way," the old man said cheerily as he walked over to Sirius, his gaze never leaving the unconscious form of Bellatrix.

Sirius' eyes followed the man as he neared, a true smile dancing on his lips. "Headmaster, let's-"

"Sirius, please," the man interrupted, blue eyes twinkling merrily, "such formalities are behind us."

"Albus, then," Sirius said, tongue tripping on the name a little. Albus Dumbledore had been the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for as long as Sirius could remember, and certainly for the entirety of Sirius' stay at the school. Referring to the man as anything else was foreign to him, but even he could admit that it was refreshing to know that the Light's beacon of hope wished to be treated as a friend, and not revered.

Dumbledore smiled at the young man, and he ran a hand down his long silver beard as he walked past Sirius to take a closer look at the woman on the floor. He made several disappointed sounds, murmuring nonsense words about how he wished things could have turned out differently for Sirius' cousin, but the young man wasn't really listening. Something didn't feel right – something felt incredibly wrong.

"A-Albus," he began, but his former Headmaster held up a gnarled hand, his own merry smile completely gone.

"Godric's Hollow," Dumbledore murmured, blue eyes suddenly very dark.

"I-what?"

"We must leave, now," the Headmaster urged, ushering Sirius out of the house. "I believe the Potters are in grave danger."

But it wasn't just a belief – far from it; it was a certainty. Albus had placed the Fidelius Charm on the Potter house in Godric's Hollow himself; and now he felt the familiar pull of magic, telling him that something had gone wrong, that the Fidelius had been broken, that somehow the Secret was no longer kept.

"But, Peter-"

"Never mind that," Dumbledore interrupted. He turned abruptly, facing Sirius. He held out an arm to the young man, commanding, "Take my arm."

Sirius did so, without question, and soon he found himself staring at the one thing he feared most.

The Dark Mark hung over his best friend's house, a banner of death.

~Haunted by Ill Angels~

Albus rushed toward the house, his own great age forgotten as he ran up the steps, through the gaping front door. He stopped, staring with no small amount of despair at the bodies of James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. He didn't miss the accusing look frozen on James' face, and crouched down next to Peter, a gnarled hand moving to push back the left sleeve of the man's cloak. He was not completely surprised to see the Dark Mark tattooed on the young man's arm, but he was saddened. Poor little Peter, abandoning his friends when they needed him most...

A gasp in the doorway brought Albus back to the present, and he turned to see Sirius, eyes wide and jaw hanging open.

"He-James-Wormtail-why?" he babbled helplessly, feet moving him toward the bodies of two of his closest friends.

"That is less important right now, Sirius," Albus said sadly, "than the fate of the rest of the Potter family."

Thoughts of his godson snapped Sirius back into focus, and he dashed ahead of Albus and up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time. Albus followed at a more leisurely pace, although the circumstances were anything but. Already he could hear the soft whimpering of young Harry, and knew that all hope was not lost. Voldemort may still be at large, but the Light now had its Champion.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts rounded the last corner and saw the young dog animagus huddled over something very small, the young figure cradled in his arms as it cradled its right hand against its chest. Albus tutted when he saw Lily Potter's body on the floor, knowing that Sirius was the only family young Harry had left. Barring those Muggle relatives, of course, he thought, but as long as Sirius was there, he had no need to send the poor boy to that family. They were the worst sort of muggle, he knew; the kind that inspired the disgusting prejudices that many wizards possessed.

"He will have to be hidden away," Albus murmured, startling Sirius enough to make the man jump, jarring Harry and causing the boy to whimper a bit louder.

Sighing sadly, Albus moved towards the two, reaching a hand out and gently taking the infant's injured one, smoothing out the tiny hand and blinking at the palm. Looking at the boy's petite appendage, Albus knew that he was, in fact, the child prophesised as the one with the power to vanquish Tom Riddle. And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, indeed, thought Albus as he rubbed a gnarled thumb over the boy's injured palm. The mark was unmistakeable, and although Albus was unsure as to how it was obtained, he knew that great things were destined for Harry Potter.

On the boy's small hand rested an angry pink lightning bolt.

A/N: A relatively new idea to me; I just finished a bunch of super good HPLV fanfics, and I admit I'm addicted, so I wanted to try it myself. Good? Bad? Please review and tell me what you think :)