I do not OWN Harry potter.

A/N: So this is something I have been thinking about for a short while, a Harry goes dark fanfiction. I've always wanted to do one and finally decided that 2016 was the time to do it. In this Harry will become one with the Horcrux, but he is going to have to deal with his lingering humanity and what connects him to those that were once important. Yes, he is going to be much more powerful, he is going to understand at an accelerated rate, and he is not going to play many games, unless it makes him feel some kind of satisfaction. But I intend on making it much more believable.

There will be moments that he doesn't understand just how he understands something, but he will accept it and study it, owing it to the merger. There is no more voice since he has merged with Harry. I will at times refer to the merger as old young mind or vice-versa. At times I may call him the new Harry or Post Merger Harry; who knows.

I have decided that Harry will be a true parselmouth, by that I mean its in his blood. Its not something that was transferred through Voldemorts soul piece.

I don't have any pairings as of yet since its still a new idea whilst I recoup from surgery.

Cold/Calculating Harry

Malevoloent/Cruel Harry

In this Dumbledore isn't evil, just misguided and secretive to a fault.

"regular speech"

'Thought'

-Parselmouth-

Prologue i.e. The Beginning.

Abysmal.

In the moments that the cruciatus had struck him, his mind had fluttered to unconsciousness. Vaguely aware of his livid thrashing, he thought:

Fear.

Anger.

Hate.

Sadness.

The plethora of emotions. He had felt them many times, but remained of the mind that emotions could lead you to disaster. But, alas he was human. Bound by these same emotions that drove everyone around him. But why was he forever slated to relieve this abysmal feeling, this longing for all to end and leave him wandering in the bleak silence of nothing? He wanted to escape, he wanted to go, leave it all behind him.

"Then go…" A faint voice echoed in the distance of his unconscious mind, a subtle reverberation as his mind's eye searched for its bearer.

"Who is that?" He questioned, timidly. His voice softer than a nervous whisper.

"I am you, and strangely enough, I am also me." It replied as its ethereal existence congealed from smoke and vapor, solidifying into the figure of a man, clad in shadow and malice. His red eyes burned like a flame, the smell of sulfur reached his nose as his consciousness's reality bent to its will. A small, careful smile crept along its nefariously handsome face, eyes like brimstone and flame piercing Harry.

"You want to escape?"

"Yes."

"You want the power to escape?"

"Yes."

"Then you need only reach to me and I will give it to you."

Looking down, sullenly bemused, the boy spoke. "Power to stand up for myself? Power to never feel like I'm nothing, less than nothing? Power to never be the Dursley's house boy, errand boy, whipping boy? Power to do what I want, what I need to do? Power to get me away from here, make me stronger?"

A sinister smile crossed the beings face as his eyes burned brighter, teeth glistening in the faint light of their shared mind. "I will give you all that and more. Become one with me, you will never be found wanting."

An ethereal vision of how Harry perceived himself appeared before the being, stepping from nothing as the intangible figure stared up at the man, his green eyes searching for something, everything, those young and somber pupils dilating slightly as they met the burning gaze of the man before him. A devil incarnate. His hand extended slowly, demurely as the man watched with a sated apprehension. He didn't know what would happen, but his hunger, their hunger would be indulged as he could wait no more. His hand snapped forward and grabbed the boys, pulling him to him as his arms enveloped the young man. Silence was borne between the pair as they were enveloped in a wave of brilliant red and white light, only two faint shadows left in their wake as the two shadows slowly but surely became one.

To say Voldemort was surprised was an understatement.

He lay on the ground, gingerly reassuring himself that this newly formed body held the physical strength and fortitude to survive something like that. His death eaters slowly began to rise from the ground as well, some muttering in wonder as others remained clearly dazed.

For the life of him, he could not understand what had happened.

Amid that interminable cruciatus he had cast on the boy, a resounding clap of sound had deafened them, before the boy and his deceased accomplice vanished in a vein of black and green light. Amidst the impossibility of the situation, Voldemort had felt something achingly familiar. It had felt as if for the briefest of moments he was assaulted by a distant fear and a sudden reassurance, but it had all been snatched away as whatever power had existed echoed into ambivalence as the boy disappeared. On the cusp of his revival, he felt as if something had changed, and that change was ominously foreboding as he remembered with an acute clarity his pursuit of immortality and the lengths he had gone.

"My horcruxes." He mumbled to himself, his voice so low and discernible that no one could hear what he had said as he had lifted himself from the ground, his tall lithe form standing at his full height as he stared at where Harry had been.

They would have to be checked on.

His keen mind was already whirling, coming to conclusions, theories passing by as he knew one thing for certain, that amidst the sound and brilliance of that foreboding light, something had happened. Something he didn't understand had been borne from a reaction of magic that he was hard pressed to comprehend, let alone formulate a cognizant answer and rebuttal.

He didn't like it.

Too much lay in the unknown as it was, and this, whatever it was; this feeling he had was not something he would pretend to entertain.

"Much is to come." He said softly, his voice a whisper on the wind, slithering, volatile and capricious. Its vehement hatred didn't go unnoticed by his followers as each nodded their understanding. Something had happened…and their master didn't like it.

In the seconds between apparition and dissaparition, two became one. Green eyes lost their youthful vibrancy, fogged by hatred and malice and encumbered by strength, as red washed over the nubile color, swallowing it. Innocence lost, his face slowly lost the numbing fear he had held on to, allowing him to grasp the world anew. The red in his eyes faded, replaced once more by that all-consuming green, though the color was darker, edgy, much more calculated and inherently wild. With the same blinding clarity, the light that had pulled him from the graveyard deposited him on the grass amidst a babbling populace. Their voices were an affront to his new disposition as he pushed himself up to his hands and knees, breathing softly.

Harry understood the moment he opened his eyes.

He was different.

Far from the boy that lay quivering on the moist ground under the cruciatus. That difference would take time to grasp and understand, but the fear that clawed at his heart seemed to be a faint memory, it was like looking through a fogged shower door. It remained, but it was faint, so faint that somewhere, the deep laughter that echoed in his new yet old mind, reiterated that the fear he felt would be overcome and swallowed. It would turn towards everyone that opposed him. He would use it as a catalyst for his power, this power borne of desperation, wielded against his oppressors.

'And the mudbloods and muggle filth.' He thought

Pausing in his thoughts, he took a stifled breath as he felt the ground move, people were running towards him. Some were trying to guard him. He could faintly hear someone yelling about a dead boy. 'my boy.' He repeated, but Harry only had thoughts of his last errant thought. Mudbloods? He didn't understand; there was a point in time that he abhorred that word, but right now he admitted that he had never felt such deep loathing for them before as well…he shook his head as he opened his eyes just in time to watch as the headmaster knelt before him.

"Harry, Harry my boy. Are you ok? What happened?" the aged warlock questioned, worry etched into the deep lines of his face. Harry stared into the man's eyes, a deep fury building; fury like he had never felt nor could he understand. It was born from nowhere he knew, but the resounding distaste, the unbridled abhorrence, it felt natural, part of him, like it was always meant. Everything in him wanted to tear at the man's face, throw him to the ground and truncheon him into the earth below; 'How plebian' he thought with a slight mental chuckle. 'Kill the man like a muggle, but the irony of such a distasteful death wouldn't be lost on the mudblood lover, now would it?' Harry's mind was alit with his voice, voices? He was talking to himself, that much he was aware, but regardless of what he heard, a cool calm crossed his face. It veiled the wonder that must have been glaringly obvious if the headmasters inquisitive eyes were anything to go. The voices vanishing, Harry looked down, taking a breath, then back to the headmaster. "I've been better." He said coolly before once more locking eyes with the headmaster.

"He's back."

"Who?"

"Voldemort."

The people around him paused in their movement, some shaken by his words, others disbelieving, but lucky for Harry, Moody had the common sense to stop the conversation before it was overheard any further. "Here's not the place Albus, I'll take the boy to my office. You tend to the others."

A moment of silence washed over them all. "Very well Alastor. I'll be to you shortly." Dumbledore finally replied.

Life seemed to fast forward as he felt his arm grasped, followed by the sensation of being dragged as he was pulled across the earth, through the grass of the castle, through the grey stones of the castle, up a few flights of stairs, pushed through corners and finally standing on the inside of a portrait, in a professors office in such disarray that it made his nose wrinkle…slightly.

"Disgusting." He muttered to himself, his innocuous green eyes moving about the room before they rested on a mirror that showed no reflection, only a shadow of figures he could not remember. It was interesting enough for him to bring a slightly muted eyebrow up in wonder before his eyes turned back to the apparently shell shocked professor moving autonomously as he listened to him muttering beneath his breath. The rumors about Moody had to be true, if he had any say, the man was a mess; a broken, sycophantic mess.

"Sit!" Moody ordered.

He stared at the man with mild disdain for a moment, everything in him screamed at the obvious command, the rudeness of this fool…though somehow he remembered his current position. Through the tornado that was his mind, he attempted to stimulate his memory, though at this moment, nothing came forward. He would have to rely on sheer instinct and intuition. The occurrence in the graveyard left him somewhat meager and he didn't like it at all.

Harry acquiesced and moved to the seat before sitting lightly. Moody had already turned to face Harry, his human and magical eye both focusing on the young wizard, it was bit unnerving, but the young wizard shook it off. His mind was fog at the moment, and although he couldn't think as clear as he would have desired, he was able to notice the acutely disconcerting movements of the professor. He looked as if he were fighting with his own body, grunting slightly, blowing air harshly through his nose as he took deep somewhat labored breaths and approached the boy with heavy footsteps, his eyes never leaving the child.

"What was it like?" He asked in a frenzied voice, almost delirious.

"Pardon?" Harry asked, brow rising in true ignorance.

"What was it like to see him rise again?" He questioned, this time with some muted authority.

Harry watched him, though he felt it was distantly. What was wrong with him. "I don't know what you mean…" Harry began, before he felt his arm grabbed and pulled forward, he slid somewhat in the seat, his malnutritioned frame easy to subjugate.

"Is this where he cut you? Is this where he took the blood." Moody asked as he stared down at the gash in Harry's arm. "I should have been there…I've always been the most loyal." 'Most loyal?' he thought to himself. It indeed was the same cut and source of blood the darklord had used, but Harry's mind had nothing to say. He wasn't cognizant enough to digest the rhetoric. There was a moment where he felt weak, a moment where he felt as he did before this night. But through the haze a distant anger, a rush of disgust and wild wrath reached forward…his free hand snapped forward and curled around Moody's hand as he grasped it with unnatural ability.

Moody's eyes snapped up to Harry's before he felt the pressure on his wrist constrict and the hand jerk quickly as an audible snap peppered by crunches echoed through the room. His eyes went wild for a moment before his mouth opened to scream. He released Harry's arm, only then realizing that he felt the pain but heard no scream. He stumbled back as Harry released him and stared at the boy, his free hand clenching at his throat, scratching madly before he heard a whisper of air escape his mouth.

"I'll kill you boy…" he breathed madly, but found himself unable to move. He looked up and at the child, his blue eyes finally falling on that definitively emerald gaze. He witnessed as they grew darker, a slight sheen echoing off of them before the green vanished, replaced by a deep crimson, a crimson that burned into his deepest fears, the echo of fire and brim stone. A crimson that found itself working his way through the man as he stumbled backwards and in to a chair of his own. He felt like his body had grown numb, his arms far too heavy to move as he slouched backward. It was a feeling he faintly aware that he had felt once before, but never from this boy.

It was achingly familiar.

The boy in question was standing now, he had crossed the distance between them and in that moment he had taken Moody's wand he had carelessly left sitting on the desk. 'Idiot' he thought to himself as he watched the boy breach the distance. He was…disconcerted by the malevolence in the boys guise.

"What are you doing…" He barely managed to force through his lips.

Harry watched as moody fought over control for his body. A small smile creeping across his face as a voice echoed in his mind. 'Never will we be weak again.' Although it felt unnatural to the otherwise loving and forgiving young wizard, he allowed himself to fall prey to the desire he had hidden. He looked at the wand that he held in his grasp. It wasn't his, his had broke in the graveyard, The malevolent red in his eyes gave way for a moment, revealing the innocence of the boy as he felt the distant bond of his first personal item taken away from him before it was replaced once more by a renewed anger as he looked back up at moody.

This man was a homage to everything he had aspired to destroy in himself, everything he had aspired to conquer, he was the amalgamation of everything that this new Harry would never succumb to. In him he saw the unreliability of his fathomless forgiveness. Power was what he sought, power at any cost, power that would allow him to stand on top, power that would feed him and allow him to master his reality. No, he would never be a fool for anyone; he would never allow himself to bow again.

"I'm showing that I will never be weak again." He finally replied.

Moody had no idea what the boy spoke of but the immense amount of pressure he felt on his otherwise numb body spoke clearly. The boy was angry, the boy was powerful, and if the red in his eyes was anything to judge the moment by, the boy was ready to kill. As he opened his mouth, he found that he couldn't speak at all anymore. Call it passive magic or accidental, but Harry's power had grown in folds.

It was like a sudden miasma of anger that washed over the room and expanded.

The weight of his power, his malevolence, washed over the castle and onto the grounds. The witches and wizards that remained felt the magnitude of the pressure as their own magic revolted against it, but felt themselves suddenly oppressed by an indomitable will. Dumbledore eyes turned to the castle, growing wide. Sirius ,in his animal form, leapt forward, fighting the magical assault. The two wizards met halfway up the grounds as Sirius reverted to his human form. He didn't need to say anything as he turned to see Remus, Minerva, and surprisingly Severus following them.

Harry though remained standing in front of moody. He knew that this was a ruse; the reality of his words had been weighing on him. "You aren't the real Professor Moody." He muttered, looking around the room. For some reason he had some knowledge on the aged auror. This farce had done a great job at maintaining their cover, but no cover was absolutely perfect, unless you had the will to make it so, at any cost, and he certainly didn't.

"Since you aren't the real moody, I have no sorrow for this…"

As the room went quiet and the false professor eyes grew wide, a sudden and terrible pitch echoed into the magical night. The room was graced by an infernal green, a spectacle of fear as the false professor's body went limp permanently, his natural eye losing its life giving sheen as the magical one fell to the ground.

Harry turned slowly to face the door he had been pushed through as it burst open, the Headmaster, the Deputy Headmistress, his godfather Sirius, and Remus came bursting in, shortly followed by Severus.

The groups stood quietly as Harry turned slowly to face them. In the movement he had reconciled his fear and swallowed it. Something this new reality of his had given him the ability to do as he faced the group, betraying the succinct elation of superiority he claimed as he killed the fake Moody. His eyes caught the group as they finally fell to Sirius and then to Dumbledore, the two he knew would be the most concerned with his well-being, though one of them for more nefarious reason. The pair looked at him before shifting to the dead figure just in time for them to watch as the body shifted from the form of Moody to another individual.

"Polyjuice." Severus muttered as he passed Harry as if he didn't exist.

The boys eyes narrowed slightly before he conceded to his curiosity and turned to watch.

"Who…" Harry began before being cut off.

"Barty Crouch…..Junior." Severus continued as they stared at the man. Their reality was brought to the forefront as their games had finally given them an answer. Proffering a boy in their palm as bait, watching him dance on their strings as they maneuvered to find out who their foe was. It was enough to make anyone go mad though this new Harry watched them all silently, arguing, talking, coming to conclusions. Things seemed to almost happen instantly as Aurors came in to get the body. They tried to question him, but none could get past Sirius, who for all his inequities protected him admirably, despite being a wanted criminal. Thoughts would be shared on this, especially since the leader of their asserted military force had been to visit him. But Harry's green eyes perpetually shifted to red as he continued to try to control the brimming rage that threatened to boil over.

Finally as silence claimed them, he vaguely heard a voice asking him something.

"….tired Harry?" He looked up to Sirius and Dumbledore. He watched the pair momentarily before shrugging. Sirius smiled slightly. "Come on pup, I walk you up to your dormitory." He said softly, wrapping Harry in a blanket before allowing his arm to rest on the young fourteen year olds shoulders as he navigated his godson through the halls of Hogwarts. Harry for his part remained silent. He felt a brimming dislike, a deep hatred with each step. He allowed the man to navigate him, but regardless of his tries to diminish the dislike, it wouldn't disappear. For him he was beginning to realize….this was not home.

Finally they reached the Gryffindor portrait. Sirius said the password to a jovial smile off the face of the fat lady. "Go in pup." Sirius said softly, pushing Harry forward. The boy turned and eyed Sirius and smiled, slightly. He had to maintain such a farce of need if he were to move forward. His head was formulating new moral values as he watched Sirius.

"Thanks" he said softly before climbing through the portrait hole as it closed behind him.

He passed the common room, only stopped by a soft voice. "Harry?" H turned to look at the individual, her honey brown eyes watching him carefully. "Hermione?" He replied. He watched as Ronald moved slowly before realizing what was going on. He had fallen asleep, but that sleep disappeared as he stared at Harry. "Harry!?" He questioned. "We were so worried bruv…" He muttered staring at the boy he considered his best mate. Harrys now green eyes watched the pair. "I bet…" He mumbled, no longer feeling shame in his dislike or hatred.

He simply turned and went to the common room, disappearing in the blackness, only sating his desire as he reached down and drew Moody's wand which turned out to be Barty's. It had tasted dark magic and would be easier to use. He sealed the drapes of his four poster, and drew another artifact that he had noticed in Alastor's holdings. The definitive draw of the arcane and the blatantly dark had drawn his new senses to it. He was surprised that Dumbledore had given such access. A small smile crossed the young wizards face as he lifted the punctured book before him….there was a faint reverberation of lingering magic over it….

"Tom Riddles Diary…" He muttered with a smirk. No one would hear him in the darkness of the Gryffindor tower as he used what he believed to be inherent magic, but was overtly learned by another soul, a fragment that vanished in the ethers of time as he made that existence a part of him.

Harry Potter as they knew him….existed no more….weakness was no longer his…

A/N: Well as always read and review my dear friends. If you have any ideas, let me know. Mistakes, let me know, and I will edit as appropriate. I dont have a Beta, so I am winging it.