Disclaimer: I do not own the original Harry Potter works. This is a fan made, non profit fiction based off the works of J.K. Rowling

Chapter 1: Awakening

Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, laid down in his cupboard beneath the stairs. like many times before, he was hurt.

His cupboard was his home, his prison, and his sanctuary. After uncle Vernon finished a beating, this was where he recovered and licked his wounds, both physical and emotional. It didn't seem odd or disturbing to Harry that his guardians would hurt him, starve him, and degrade him like they did. Even though he could probably guess that not many children were treated like this if he sat down and thought about it, he just couldn't see anything out of place about the whole thing: it was the only hell he had ever known.

But something was different, this time.

Vernon, in his rage, had taken his beatings two steps too far, and Harry's starving body was already failing. He had nothing left to give to the wounds that cried out to be healed, and barely enough strength to keep his heart and lungs working. And soon, he wouldn't have enough strength to do even that.

Harry Potter was dying.

On some level, he knew he was dying. Some animal part of him understood death, and was afraid. But Harry was only seven, only aware of his oncoming doom as a feeling of anxiety weighing on his chest. But the feeling distracted himself from his dreaming, the only thing that could take him away from his pain. So Harry dreamed harder; he dreamed of his stolen hours in front of the television watching cartoons when everyone was asleep, he dreamed of a little more food, of friends he would never meet and a school he would never attend, and Harry's anxiety could do nothing to call him back from there.

But there was something else in Harry that understood death. A bright singularity buried deep in Harry's soul that radiated power and knowledge, a voice that had whispered into Harry's ear since the day he was born, teaching him how to do impossible things. Even now, that bright spark kept Harry's body alive when it should have already died. It could tell Harry how to escape; indeed, it could have told him how to turn night into day if he was ready to listen. But as hard as it tried to speak to him, Harry could not hear, and his magic could do no more to save him.

But still, Harry would not die tonight.

There was something else inside him, a darkness that was both him and not him, kin to his magic yet completely alien. It had slept in Harry for 6 years now. Harry knew not of it, his instincts knew not of it, and his magic knew not of it. Soon, the world would know of it.

And so the story begins, not with dark lords and betrayals, but with a lonely, neglected boy dying under the stairs of a house on Privet Drive, and the darkness within him opening its eyes.

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Sirius checked his pocket watch.

He's late.

Dumbledore's visits were always big events for him and Harry, and rarely the good kind. For some reason, they were always prepared to fight to keep the old wizard from taking Harry away. He assured Harry that Dumbledore would never take him away, but all the same, they always got their story straight beforehand, just in case.

Especially this time.

Sirius looked over at his godson, who was aimlessly transfiguring an apple into an orange, then a giant marble, then a rat.

There were 3 things wrong with this picture: first, Harry had only just turned 9, and should not have been able to perform that caliber of magic for another 4 years at least; second, he was doing it without a wand.

And that was supposed to be impossible.

Of course, there was only 1 thing that really worried Sirius, and that was the new scar above Harry's left eyebrow. It wasn't as noticeable as the lightning shaped that Voldemort left him, and it would probably fade in a few years, but just looking at it made Sirius' blood boil. Harry had been playing with a friend of his, Neville, when they were spotted by some older kids. Obviously, the boys made a habit of picking on the young Longbottom whenever they saw him. They made fun of Neville's parents, locked away in St. Mungo's ward for the incurably insane. Harry, true to his nature, defended his friend. Only, with Harry, this meant using magic.

What he did could be passed off as accidental magic, at least on paper. But the children reported that Harry raised his hand and deliberately sent one of them flying with telekinesis. No one would believe them, of course: conscious magic like that didn't come from 9 year old boys, especially if they didn't have a wand.

That was just impossible.

A confrontation ensued, ending with one of them throwing a rock that knocked Harry unconscious and nearly cut his eye out. If it had been Sirius, and not Neville's grandmother, that had seen this, those little monsters would have seen what real magic looked like. The old woman called the incident in, and the boys would be dealing with some heavy consequences, but that didn't take back what they did to Harry. The boy had more scars than the two of them had ever bothered to count, and even one more was unacceptable in Sirius' eyes.

The fireplace flared green, and an aged wizard with a winding beard stepped in, his eyes twinkling merrily despite his age.

Albus Dumbledore.

Sirius had known the man since he was a child, and had fought beside him against Voldemort during his days in the Order, but he still couldn't forgive him for placing Harry with the Dursleys. That one night at St. Mungo's, the night they found Harry inches from death, Sirius had hooked his old headmaster in the jaw, and had nearly challenged him to a wizard's duel. Fortunately, Harry was now securely in Sirius' custody, as he should be, and the headmaster had made no further attempts to seize him now that Harry had no more relatives to form blood wards with. All that he asked for was the occasional visit, just to check on Harry and monitor his "condition", which had begun to manifest itself soon after he had escaped the Dursleys.

The old wizard bowed his head, "Good afternoon Sirius." He turned to Harry, smiling behind his thick beard. "And good afternoon to you, Harry."

Harry smiled back, though his smile seemed too sad for the face of a nine year old.

Sadness flashed over Dumbledore's face. He quickly hid his grief behind a smile, and spotted Harry hiding his half transfigured apple below the table.

"You don't have to stop playing just for me. In fact, I'm a bit curious, why don't you give us a show?"

Harry's shy smile faltered, but he put the apple back on the table obediently. He hesitated.

"What do you want me to do with it?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought, then smiled. "I bet you can't turn that apple into an orange!"

Harry grinned, looking a bit more like a 9 year old now. Sirius realized that, other than himself and maybe Neville, Dumbledore was the only person who could make him do that.

"I was doing that before you came in!"

Dumbledore went back to stroking his beard. "Hmm…." His eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. "How about you turn that apple into an appletree?"

Harry frowned in thought, and looked down at the apple, placing his hands on either side of it. For a moment, nothing happened, and Sirius was about to suggest that they skip the exposition, but then the apple began to change.

The red skin peeled back, turning brown and forming a circle around the flesh of the apple, growing and shifting until it had formed a small garden pot. Harry smiled, pausing only for a second, before pressing his hands a bit more firmly on the table. Sirius' eyebrows lifted as the white exterior faded brown, then black before crumbling into soil.

This isn't just transfiguration….

The soil expanded to fill the pot. Harry paused again, trembling slightly. He gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, and the soil in the pot began to shift. Soon, a single leaf popped out, which quickly grew into a full sapling. It rose and branched out, it's green stem hardening into a wooden trunk and branches, which began growing leaves, and still it continued to grow. Harry enlarged the pot and created more soil, making room for the expanding tree. It grew and grew, becoming so heavy that the table began to creek under the weight. Sirius began to worry that Harry was getting carried away. Dumbledore, obviously thinking the same thing, gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to stop him….

Harry recoiled from the touch as if burned, and tree instantly caught on fire. All the furniture in the room shifted, as if given a hard shove, and the air became charged with magic. Panic flashed over Dumbledore's eyes.

"Harry….."

Harry looked up, startled. Then he looked up at his tree, and realizing what he had done, looked quite guilty. He bowed his head and hunched up his shoulders, and the tree began to crumble into ashes. Instead of leaving a pile of burnt wood and leaves, though, the ashes seemed to crumble into smaller and smaller bits before vanishing completely.

Vanishment? That's a new trick...

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, close to tears.

"That doesn't usually happen….."

Dumbledore nodded understandingly. "I know, and I'm glad you were able to keep something like this from happening the other day with those bullies."

Harry's cringe wasn't lost on Sirius. The old wizard seemed to know everything...

"I just sort of pushed one of them, and they all got really mad." He reached up to his forehead, touching his new scar.

Sirius fumed, "I would have done more than 'push' those little dirtbags if I had seen them….."

Dumbledore frowned. "Now Sirius, not in front of Harry."

Sirius scoffed, but didn't say anything else.

Dumbledore looked back to Harry. "That was some impressive magic you just showed us, Harry."

Harry gave a weak smile, speaking in a shy voice hardly above a whisper, "I've made bigger things."

Dumbledore shook his head. "That wasn't just transfiguration, though that still would have been impressive if it was. You didn't just take the seeds and transfigure them into a tree, you poured energy into them and made them grow naturally. I also saw you accelerate the decomposition of that…." Dumbledore paused, realizing he was using some very big words for a child who had only been attending 1 year of basic schooling. "In short, Harry, you were using life magic, some very complex and very powerful magic that some people never learn to use, even with a wand….."

Harry's smile evaporated. Sirius was proud of him, proud that he was different. He could do things that even Dumbledore couldn't do; but to Harry, that just made him a freak. Sirius put on a fake smile, trying to cheer him up. "The first few years of Hogwarts are going to be pretty boring for him, huh? Everyone will be trying to cast hover charms and transfigure matches, and Harry will be off making dragons from pebbles or something…."

Dumbledore frowned. "Perhaps Hogwarts may not be the best place for Harry….."

Harry's head bolted up, looking to Dumbledore then to Sirius, eyes wide.

"He'll go." confirmed Sirius, almost growling, "It's where he belongs, with kids his age."

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose you're right, though I am a bit concerned. If Harry can't reign in his magic by the time he comes of age, I'm afraid of what the other students might see." Dumbledore looked to his left hand, skeletal and crippled beyond any hope of repair, a reminder of how dangerous Harry could be when pushed.

"Or what might happen to them…."

Harry saw where Dumbledore was looking. He knew that it was him that somehow did that to the old wizard's hand, but he couldn't remember doing it. Still, that didn't keep him from feeling ashamed.

Sirius wouldn't have it. "It's not his fault, it's never his fault, people keep messing with him and he just keeps giving them what they have coming. By the time he's of age to go, kids will be old enough to know who he is and respect him for it. And if they don't…" Sirius grinned. "Then Harry will have a good enough hold on his magic to give them what's coming to them on purpose."

Harry smiled, embarrassed but assured, and though Dumbledore didn't approve of what Sirius was saying, he didn't dare refute it and hurt Harry. Instead, he just smiled.

"Well, while I'm here, I want to ask you some questions."

Harry nodded, it was what Dumbledore was here for.

"No scary changes, right?"

Harry shook his head. "Not for almost a year."

"Good," nodded Dumbledore, "And those other changes? Can you still do those?"

Harry nodded, sending his hair into a cascade of color as he did so. "I have to try really hard, but I can change my face now, too."

Dumbledore frowned, "And you're sure you were never able to do that before you came to live with Sirius?"

Harry nodded again. "I would have noticed if I could. Before, when I lived with….." Harry's voice caught at their names. Sirius hated that they were still hurting him, even after being dead for over a year.

"Them…" Harry continued, "when I lived with them, I think I was too sad to do it."

Dumbledore's eyes broke with sadness. It was his fault that Harry had been sent to live with those monsters, and Sirius never let him forget it.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, now." He said, almost a whisper.

Sirius pitied him, for a moment.

What he did was horrible, but it's got to be killing him inside….

Dumbledore cleared his throat. He began asking some other questions. Some questions were medical, making sure that Harry was at least beginningto recover from his time at the Dursleys': Had he been eating well? Was he sleeping any better? Did he ever feel like he was in pain? Other questions were about Harry's strange affinity for magic: Did his magic ever get away from him without him noticing it? Did his hair ever change color by accident? Did his magic ever do something he couldn't stop, even when he tried?

When Dumbledore had gotten enough assuring answers and cast a few diagnostic charms, he stood up and brushed off his robes. "Well, it seems like it's been long enough since anything's run amiss, I don't believe you'll need me checking in quite so often." He smiled at Harry, "Though I will be sure to drop by every now and again, just to visit."

He stood and turned to leave, then paused, as if forgetting something. "Oh!" he exclaimed, reaching into his pockets. "I almost forgot."

He placed a chocolate frog on the table in front of Harry, prompting a smile. "Chocolate frog. There's always a surprise inside, though unlike Bott's every flavor beans, you always know that it's going to taste delicious."

With that, Dumbledore nodded to Sirius and took the floo back to Hogwarts. Sirius looked back to Harry, who now held a very strong interest in the Famous wizards/witches card he had found in the chocolate frog package.

"Hey Sirius…."

Sirius smiled and looked over Harry's shoulder. "Watcha got there?"

It was Merlin's chocolate frog card. Harry looked up to Sirius. "Merlin….."

Sirius smiled. "Yup. The most famous, and probably the most powerful wizard to ever live."

Too bad they make so many cards of him, he thought, they're near worthless.

But Harry clung to it. "Could he do magic without a wand?"

Sirius could see where this was going. "He sure could, probably better than even Dumbledore can."

Harry ran his thumb over the image. "You mean like me?"

Sirius took a breath before answering. "No, I don't think that even Merlin could do what you do."

The picture of Merlin on the card looked offended, marching out of sight in a fit.

"Oh….."

Sirius ruffled his hair, and Harry didn't flinch. "I don't think he could use magic very much at all when he was your age. He's just a record to beat, kiddo."

"Yeah…." Whispered Harry.

Sirius looked at Harry, a mix of pride and worry mixing oddly in his chest.

"Come on, we said we'd visit Neville after Dumbledore left, I'm sure his grandmother will be happy to see you looking all better."

Harry nodded silently and got up to go change. Sirius looked where Harry had been sitting, his eyes drawn to the edge of the table.

The spot where Harry had been gripping earlier was scorched black, and half the table had been burned through where his fingers had been. Sirius scowled, drawing his wand to repair the damage, and hoping that Harry hadn't noticed.

The kid had too much on his mind as it was.

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Author's note: This is my first fanfic, and really the first story I've ever written, so any and all comments are appreciated!

I'm American, so if anyone sees any incongruities with actual british culture, feel free to point it out and I'll update. Same goes with grammar, but be merciful, makes getting the right format really hard.

Please like and follow. This is my first time writing "seriously" and I would love as much feedback as possible, so I'll update often and hope people see it.

And yes, I made Harry a metamorphmagus, but I'll explain that as the story goes on, if I decide to stick with it.