Hey readers.

As of now, this is going to sit as a oneshot until my ADD tells me I can sit down and write some more. The story is pretty much AU with hints of happenings from the origional story here and there. I need to brush up on my Potter, but I think this is leaning towards an OotP parallel, although that won't matter in the long run. please do correct me if I'm wrong on any of the technicalities.

Otherwise, Enjoy

Disclaimer: I, of course, don't own Harry Potter. nuff said.

Expecto Omnitelum

Harry Potter walked towards the house on private drive sopping wet and covered with dirt and bruises, cursing himself and the world around him.

He had been sitting in a plastic swing at his old haunt late one dreary humid evening in late June, when Dudley had come by and convinced Harry to walk back to the house with him. Harry was suspicious, but complied, and he paid the price. Polkiss and the rest of Dudley's gang had been waiting behind bushes and rubbish bins on a street corner to jump him.

Harry had been able to dodge the whole of them for most of the summer, so naturally their craving for beating Harry up had built up so much that they actually planned this ambush out, which caught Harry completely off guard.

They held him well, and reached him quickly, so that he never got a chance to grab his wand. Each one of them got a good long turn at Harry, and to add insult to injury they drug him over to a kiddie pool left out in a neighbor's yard and threw him in.

Harry was angry. No, he was furious. The edges of his vision was blurry, his knuckles white and despite his drenched state he was very heated, almost to the point of not noticing when everything became cold and much, much darker.

Harry looked up to see at least fifty or so Dementors circling towards him rapidly from the sky.

Harry could not conjure a happy thought, nor did he want to. "I don't have time for this. I don't have time for any of you. Why wont you leave me alone?! EXPECTO... AAAUGH!" In all of his rage and fury and anger Harry couldn't even finish saying the spell. He just pointed his wand and poured all of his emotion towards the nearest Dementor.

He didn't expect much to happen, but as soon as he had shouted, the edges of his vision began to blur red, and he looked down to see not a blue but a red light emitting from the tip of his wand. The thing that he conjured wasn't in fact a stag, nor was it a patronus. What was conjured instead was a Sword, but it was nothing like Harry had ever seen.

It had a thick stout handle with a large spike as a pommel and a flexible gold arm guard that twisted over his hand may times and tightly up his arm, decorated with many a slew of large wicked barbs. There was something like a large ball of fur where the lower guard should be, but it was more of a shadow, or the blackness of the door from the Department of Mysteries, and it seemed to fidget and twitch with odd shapes emerging, as if it were fuzz from an old tv station or the end of an electrical cord dancing on the ground.

The rest of the blade was much of the same. The front edge was curved like a saber, while the back edge comprised of a beautiful pattern of rings and teeth and hooks to catch and mangle meat on. the blood grooves twisted and wrapped around each other throughout the blade, an eternal blood red engraved with in it.

Harry looked down at the embodiment of his anger and fury and wasn't surprised of the change. In fact, at the moment he welcomed it.

Harry looked up at the Dementors and saw them hesitate at this new development. That was fine with him. Harry put the wand firmly in his pocket and focusing on it shouted "wingardium leviosa!" It was only in a time like this that he could think of such a practical use for this spell, not to mention hold enough concentration to control it.

He flew straight for the first black cloak and swung with all of his might, through it's upraised arms and rotting carcass and bone as if it were no more than melted butter, leaving small red and black flames in its wake, licking the edges of the now inanimate Dementor as it fell to earth.

Harry flew up to the next few and swung his blade through the first, second and third in quick succession, cut the fourth vertically from head to toe and stabbing the fifth one straight through behind him and tearing out its insides as he twisted and ripped the thick blade out of its ribs.

The rest of the dementors saw this and began circling Harry as he floated there. This was a big mistake on their part, because it only made Harry angrier.

"I said, I don't have time for things like you! AAAAAUGH!" Harry screamed at them in rage and his sword arm and shoulders ripped open into flames, the glowing red of death itself deep in Harry's eyes and bright in his aura. He brought the blade up and pointed it skywards, screaming again at the top of his lungs. A black wave of the same stuff as on the sword surrounded him and exploded outwards, enveloping the rest of the Dementors. The black quickly made its way deep into each of their chest cavities and built up again, bursting in explosions that disintegrated all that they consumed. The Dementor massacre was over, there were none left save the pieces on the ground.

Harry, panting, lowered himself to the ground hard enough to cause a small tremor and crack the pavement, and let up on his spells. He was dry now, and there was no sign of is injuries from the prior beating anywhere on his body.

He looked around the neighborhood to see if anyone witnessed this event, then made his way towards the Dursley's place to try and get some sleep.

Mrs. Figg looked out her window and stared at the teenage boy a few moments longer to make sure he was quite finished, and quickly glanced at the smoldering Dementor limb resting neatly on top of her bush before rushing to her fireplace and throwing a handful of floo powder in.

"Dumbledore, I apologize, but this is quite urgent. I am afraid to inform you that Harry Potter has gone completely insane."