A/N: This is my first fan fiction I've ever made, so please don't be too judgmental. I am planning to put forth a good amount to work to finish this, and am hoping that you guys will like it. So... here's a quick overview of the story for those of you who treasure knowing some basic information... [SPOILERS TO SOME PARTS OF THE STORY, SKIM OVER OR PROCEED WITH CAUTION!]

Pairings: Harry/Daphne, OC/OC, Draco/Astoria, Theodore/Tracey, Ginny/Blaise, Hermione/Neville

Dark!Smart!Semi-Powerful!Harry. AKA: Smart and cruel, analytic, and powerful, but not nearly as powerful as Voldemort, Dumbledore, etc.

Dark!Very Smart!Daphne. AKA: Analytic and logical, and basically a genius. Around average magical power.

Dark!Hermione, Dark!Smart!Ginny, Gray!Sirius, Gray!Remus, Gray!Neville, and OC's

Description: Harry is the perfect hero. Brave, kind, confident, but not overly so. Or is it all a lie? Is there any unknown manipulations? Is there possibly more wizards than Europeans? Will the war be over once and for all? We can only hope.

Chapter #1: Idleness

Harry James Potter, age 15, walked down the seemingly endless halls of Hogwarts. He was returning to the Gryffindor Common Room after his semi-weekly session with Professor Dumbledore.

That session, the one that was absolutely private, the one that only he and Professor Dumbledore could know about. He needed to be resistant to pain, to suffering, to agony. Professor Dumbledore would help him with that and support him through having to kill Voldemort.

He continued limping through the halls cursing himself for forgetting his invisibility cloak. If someone saw him like this, he didn't even want to imagine that.

Suddenly, the pitter-patter of footsteps was heard and Harry immediately started to panic. He glanced around swiftly, looking for avenues of escape. He tried to do the Disillusionment spell silently to no avail. Soon, he heard a voice, the voice of the dreaded house of Hogwarts, the voice of a Slytherin.

"What are you doing out at this time of night, Potter?" asked an indifferent feminine voice down the hall.

"I could ask you the same question, Greengrass." replied Harry through gritted teeth.

He saw her eyes actually become acutely worried at his response, but he knew it was fake. Why would any Slytherin, much less the 'Unmovable Glacier' or 'Ice Queen' as some called her, actually care for his well-being?

"Are you okay, Potter?" she asked in a voice that was much kinder than her greeting.

"Move, Greengrass," he said, not noticing that he subconsciously did not answer her question, "I've got things to do."

Daphne remained rooted to her spot, further infuriating Harry, "Move it, you idiot!"

She just stood there, observing him coldly, as if a test or question. He tried to move away, but found himself in a precarious still of movement.

"Found yourself a little immobile, Potter?" she asked coyly.

"Release me now, Greengrass." he hissed, getting red with embarrassment and anger.

"But where's the fun it that? Stupefy." she replied, promptly knocking Harry out.

Daphne smirked now that she was alone. Potter was definitely not okay, and she had just made him in her credit. Little did she know how much he was going to owe her soon.

Severus Snape was appalled, disgusted, and above all, horrified. He had just finished his scans of the Potter boy, and it was not pleasant. He started with the usual physical damage check and found many deformed bones, weak organs, and many cuts, bruises, and even one healing gash. But then he proceeded to do the magical damage diagnostic…

It was horrendous. Layer upon layer of charm work and spells were weaved impeccably. He didn't even know some of the charms placed upon the boy. He, himself, could only possibly break a limited few of these.

Severus let a weary sigh escape his lips. He may despise his nemesis' son, but not so much that he would let the boy carry on like this.

'Who would've done this to a Potter, much less the Boy-Who-Lived?' he thought to himself as he picked up his wand and started to destroy the small enchantments placed on the boy.

When Severus drew the final rune for the destruction of the trust spell, he was sweating heavily and breathing raggedly. He had only managed to break the trust, attraction, locating, and tracking spells. He would need someone more powerful and patient to break the others…

But then a problem occurred. Who was powerful enough to break the rest. Severus counted the minuscule list in his head, 'Dumbledore, Riddle, Flamel…' that's all he knew from the European wizards. Maybe an American or Chinese wizard could assist him...

Then Severus realized that if he left the castle for that long he would be watched extremely carefully, by both Dumbledore and Riddle, he really had only one choice.

'But, that can wait…' he thought, his curiosity getting the best of him, 'I'll just use some legilimency and see how he got this way…'

"Legilimens!" he hissed as he found himself in a recent memory of Potter's.

Severus lifted his eyes and met the unblinking gaze of one Albus Dumbledore. Severus had to admit himself confused, for one thing seemed distinctly off. The headmaster's eyes. The were insane and wild, quite foreign to the kindly, grandfather eyes he displayed publicly.

"Torquem Dolora," hissed the headmaster, unaware that Severus' eyebrows had shot off his head in the not-so-distant future.

Severus watched in trepidation and not a small amount of horror as the Potter boy made only miniscule motions that conveyed any feeling of the pain. Severus was appalled by the lack of response a high-rate pain charm was bringing out of the boy.

"Your parents sacrifice may just be worth it after all…" muttered Dumbledore.

Here, both Severus and Harry cringed and Severus quickly became quite angered. But as it was only a memory, Severus couldn't hex the senile headmaster into next the millennium.

"Yes… thank you sir." Severus heard Potter reply tiredly. Severus' anger only increased at the respect Potter had for the headmaster after that. Was this a regular occurrence? Severus couldn't tell if he wanted to know or not.

Dumbledore only inclined his head and opened the door to his office, "Beware late stalkers my boy."

Potter nodded and turned to leave, his eyesight one with Severus through legilimency.

Severus pulled out of Potter's memory and inhaled sharply. That was a not-so-brilliant surprise. Severus was now completely baffled, why did Potter think he earned that, much less respect that senile old goat after that?

Severus shook his head as he tried to think of what's best. Maybe he could contact Lucius? Surely, even Lucius could overcome a petty grudge and help a boy escape the constricting grasp of Albus Dumbledore. Severus dearly hoped he was right at that moment.

Severus walked aloft to the fireplace in his office and grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the stone construct.

"Malfoy Manor, Lord Malfoy Residence!"

The bright emerald flames shot up as if awakened from a deep slumber. Severus hesitated for a moment in indecision before looking deep into it's smoldering depths.

He opened his eyes and met the stone grey of the Lucius Malfoy. He knew that Lucius was very surprised by the expression of disbelief on his face but paid no heed to it.

"Lucius… my old friend. I have a very unique problem…" he said silkily.

The elegant patriarch nodded and asked for elaboration, "And that problem is..?"

Severus took a deep breath before spewing out, "I recently discovered some… unsettling news on the Potter boy."

Lucius raised an eyebrow and said quite plainly, "Clearly."

Severus was annoyed by his response, or lack thereof, but showed none of his impatience, "I figured out via Legilimency that our esteemed headmaster is much more senile than we expected at the least, and straight out insane at most."

Lucius grinned a bit before his face becoming nearly emotionless and asked, "And this relates to Potter how?"

Severus just shot him an irritated look before saying, "Apparently, Potter is being raised and trained completely differently than we assumed, and I say I do not like how."

Lucius looked a bit worried, "Is Potter stronger than what we know?"

Severus shook his head vigorously, "Weaker, by much. I saw through his own eyes the old fool casting a high-level pain charm, not only that but a dark spell, on Potter, and saying not a minute afterwards that his parents sacrifice may be worth it after all."

Lucius had the decency to looked very disturbed at that news, though he did hoarsely whisper, "Which spell?"

Severus thought back to the memory for a moment and answered in a shaky voice, "Torquem Dolora."

Lucius gasped and dreaded his own next question, "What was Potter's response?"

Severus looked angry now, "He said 'Yes… thank you sir.'"

Lucius angrily stood up and stalked around in circles before heading back to the fireplace, "Bring him over."

Severus nodded and exited the fireplace, and headed to grab Potter.

Upon reaching the boy, he picked up his limp body and wandered back to the flaring fireplace. He walked through the flames, feeling perfectly unharmed compared to what actual flames would be like. Severus unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief at entering familiar territory.

Unknown to everyone, two teens were standing on a hill's peak in America. One stood with a grace unseen in anyone not pureblood in Europe. She had dirty blond hair flowing down her back, with sharp blue eyes. They had a harden look, as if a storm was constantly brewing. Her pale skin blended in nicely with the bright moonlight, and her clothes were that of day-to-day wear for muggles.

Her companion stood rigidly, his jade eyes swimming in amusement. He had dark brown, near black hair that was not unlike Harry Potter's. His skin, pale just like his companions, but not quite as light, was visibly quite easily in the bitter darkness of night. His clothes were even more casual than the girl beside him, and a wand of birch was gripped tightly in hand.

"Do you know when they'll be here?" The girl asked the boy, not giving any hints to whom this "they" are.

Her companion shrugged and started to pace, "They said they'll be here at 8, but you never know with those kind of people…"

"What kind of people?" asked a new voice, coming from an approaching man.

"Uh- n-nothing sir!" piped the boy of jade eyes.

The man gave no indication of anger, just chuckled, "Don't be so formal, Gordon. It's not everyday that you get accepted as a mudblood."

The boy, Gordon, gripped his wand a little tighter, but replied nonetheless, "If you say so."

The girl beside Gordon giggled and walked up to the man, "Dolohov."

Antonin Dolohov, age 28, was no fool. This girl's family was more powerful than the Malfoy's. He needed to be careful, "Madam, it is a pleasure to meet you."

The girl just shook her head in obvious amusement, "It's just Cynthia or Ms. Aerax, I've told you this Antonin."

Antonin flushed a bit, but shook it off, "Of course, Ms. Aerax."

Cynthia nodded before asking, "Time to go?"

Antonin nodded and held out both his hands to each of the teens. Both grasped a hand and felt the distinct feeling of apparition not a moment later.

A/N: Torquent is the latin word for twist, and Dolor means pain. As so, Torquem Dolora basically means "Twisting pain." Sound like a good toture curse? Any feedback is appreciated.