Harry Potter is owned by J.K Rowling, The Elder Scrolls series by Bethesda, the only thing I own are my thoughts... sad realy...
Harry Potter was many things, patient was not one of them, he hated being made to wait, absolutely hated it, maybe it had something to do with an abusive childhood or the almost constant life and death struggle's he had consistently found himself in, honestly he didn't know but the one thing he did know was that waiting angered him. He had hated waiting for the Tri-Wizard Task's, he had hated waiting for Buckbeak's trial, he had hated waiting for Lockhart, and he didn't even think of waiting during the whole Philosopher's Stone incident, he did not wait, period, he got things done, plain and simple. Screw the Curciatus, this was the worse torture he had ever been subjected to, he had to do something if he didn't he would lose what little sanity he had left. So for the first time in Harry's life he stopped and he thought. He thought long and hard, why weren't his friends contacting him? The first and only letter that had sent him following his fourth year stated plainly that they couldn't send him letters, why? Voldemort had returned, but what could the Dark Lord stand to gain from intercepting a school boy's letters? The longer he thought on it the more he realized something wasn't right, Hermione was a muggleborn, even if Voldemort was intercepting owl's what would stop her from sending a letter by post, it's not like the Death Eaters were going to chase the postman. Harry didn't expect much from Ron, it's not like Harry would ever rely on him again especially after the Tri-Wizard, they were friends, true, but that didn't mean Harry trusted him. Worst of all was Sirius, the man had braved Dementors and Auror platoons, but he couldn't of so much a left an; I'm doing fine Harry nothing happening on my end, but no not even that. Quite frankly Harry as tired of waiting for information, and if his friends weren't going to give him any then he would get for himself.
Harry had a plan, heading quickly to a local phone booth, Harry made a call to a local Taxi service, a short wait and a taxi ride and Harry was standing on Charring Cross Road. Stepping through the dooe into the Leaky Cauldron, as usual all the eyes in the room turned to him, only this time something was different. The stares had a hostile glint to them, they weren't staring at him. Those were glares! Sighting a copy of The Daily Prophet, the Headline explained the looks and had Harry ready to spit nails, "Harry Potter, Dark and Disturbed!" How dare they, after all he done for their world, he'd stoped the Dark Lord from being resurrected twice and not to mention all that Boy-Who-Lived bullshit, he'd gotten over that whole Dursley shit, it's not like they knew he was going to be treated that way, but this, they'd gone way too far. Well, he'd decided, they want to play rough, stab him in the back, abandon him… well turn-a-bout is fair play after all. They wanted dark and disturbed, no they wouldn't get dark and disturbed, they would get worse! A thousand fold worse! He would make them all regret their very existence let alone their betrayal. He'd gone to hell and back for them, now it was time to give them hell! Harry had made his way quickly to Knocturn Alley he walked into the first bookshop he'd found and quite literally emptied the shelves, he'd always held back at Hogwarts a combination of the fear ingrained from the Dursleys and Hermione's need for being the best. He'd read every dark tome he could find and show the world just what betrayal meant.
Harry continued to bookstore after bookstore, anger might be blind but it wasn't stupid, Harry scanned the bookshelf looking for books he had yet to purchase. Dark magic, blood magic, ritual magic, mind magic, any book he could find on every topic he could get his hands on. Harry looked through the shelves; he'd already purchased all these books, turning away a glint of white catches his eye. There lay a book, white with what looked like the mathematical symbol of pi yet it was distorted, he'd looked over this bookshelf three or four times and this was the first time he'd seen this book, and he'd found it hard to believe that he'd miss such an obvious tome. Opening the book carefully, he'd learned quickly that the enchantments on some of these old tomes were plain annoying those screamer books always got him, he gave the book a quick once over. All the pages were covered in strange runic circles, none of the runes of which he could recognize, an image formed in his mind, he saw himself putting a knife in his palm and slowly cutting in and allowing the blood to drip onto the symbol on the front page. His head cleared of the images, figuring he had nothing to lose he took the book to the counter and paid for his purchases. Walking back onto Charing Cross Road he hailed a Taxi to return him to Privet Drive.
Harry crossed the front lawn of Number 4 wanting nothing more than to drop the books in his room and get to work, he had a world to conquer after all. He stopped as he saw an indent in the grass just to the right of the front gate; he thought quickly, someone was there! An invisibility Cloak! Not only had these bastards betrayed him they were spying on him as well. They would pay! Realizing it was much too soon for him to play his hand he evaded his gaze subtly. Whoever was under that cloak was in for a nasty surprise; Harry would make sure of that. He stopped his vows of vengeance to think for a second, just who would want to spy on him? Not the ministry it's not like they needed to dig for dirt considering how much they simply made up. Voldemort, maybe? No, Voldemort wanted him dead, if a Death Eater had gotten that close Harry would have been dead or at least trussed up waiting to be delivered to the Dark Fucker... If not them then who…? Dumbeldore! That goat fucking bastard! He was the only one to gain from Harry being observed, that was why no one was contacting him wasn't it! So Dumbeldore could sweep him in and save him from those creatures he unfortunately shared blood with. Well, Harry thought, it seems that Dumbeldore was going to have to die… painfully!
Harry walked through the door of his relative's house not stopping for a moment or sparing so much as a glance at either his Aunt or his Uncle, though an image of them both screaming for death as he slowly tortured them did flash through his mind for a moment, it seemed Dudley wasn't home but he would get what was coming to him soon enough. He opened the door to his room and tore out the white book from his bottomless carrying bag, grabbing a knife from his box of potions supplies he hesitated for all of a second before he bit down on his lip and with a grunt cut open his palm. Slowly he let the blood drip onto the book, the book pulsed ominously for a second, something had changed, but Harry sure just what it was. His palm was still bleed, grabbing a rag from beneath his bed; Harry wrapped his hand with it to prevent any more blood loss. Placing the book down on the table nearby his bed Harry once again scanned over it quickly. The Runes, which he had been unable to understand, had remained the same and yet it was as if the Runes made sense know as if he'd known them already. The book contained detailed diagrams of spells and rituals that the more he read the more he realized were not of this world or any world he'd ever thought existed. Destruction, Conjuration, Illusion, Alteration, Restoration magic, what were they? Harry had never as much as heard whispers of such magic's. The front page was the only page to truly change, what had once been blank now read:
Welcome to the Mysterium Xarxes