Author's Note: So, first of all, welcome! This will be considered my first Harry Potter fanfiction that I will be regularly updating. So, far this story will have no pairings, so don't ask. But, in the future chapters there will be some romantic interests.
Probably, Harry/Lucius, or Harry/Voldemort, who knows? I am planning on making this story long. Like 100k long, so expect long chapters from the start till the finish. This is a Dark Harry piece of fiction, so some warnings might be needed.
Warning: Child abuse, and graphics. If you don't like, then don't read.
Also, this story is dedicated to my favorite cousin, who loves Harry Potter, just as much as I do.
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns this. I do not, just plain and simple. This disclaimer will remain the same throughout the story. So, this is the only disclaimer I need.
Please follow, favorite, and review please!
Summary: During the summer right after second year, Harry gets sent back to live with his relatives, the Dursleys. When a magical inheritance flaming his relatives to a burnt crisp after dealing with merciless beatings, Harry runs out. He goes through many changes all-leading up to a different Harry Potter than we imagined. When the truth gets revealed to him, will Harry still be the Savior of the Light, or will the Dark persuade him to their side? Dark Harry, and light bashing. Don't like, then don't read.
Chapter One
Harry Potter, the light's golden boy, the prophesized one, or more correctly, the chosen one, was in severe pain.
Tears escaping down his pale-stricken face. Green, emerald eyes ridden of their usual illuminating light, and now had dulled to mossy-green.
He couldn't breathe regularly due to his chest being bloodied beyond repair. From the many carvings his Uncle pushed against him.
He hadn't meant to do it, it was accidental magic, but to his Uncle he was automatically labeled, 'Freak'.
He was doing his chores like any other day.
Completing a list that was far too long, the idea of completely it was foreign to Harry; but he still worked his hardest to complete it in time. He had overworked himself cleaning stains from Dudley's carpet.
Dudley had overlooked his cleaning, and suddenly Dudley had different colored hair. Apparently, Harry was thinking of colors when the incident happened.
So what did Dudley do?
He went crying to his Uncle Vernon. Vernon wasn't happy one bit, so he yelled at Harry.
With words, that Harry hadn't heard before, not even in his time at Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Going as far as to burn it into his skin all over his body.
He had regular beatings, up until he had received his Hogwarts letter; when he was eleven years old.
He had freedom away from the beatings at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, but it only lasted as long as the school year.
He was now thirteen, and beatings turned into more of the aggressive type. Drawing blood, until he was almost a welcome visitor to Death's door, but he had never been raped.
Which, Harry was still thankful for to this day. He was still roomed in the cupboard under the stairs.
Not even harboring the thought, of moving into a room above; next to the very tormentors that find pleasure in his own beatings and public embarrassment.
Dust filled his lungs, he coughed, even that hurt.
His limbs were sore, his body needed to stretch, but in the little space left no room for him to stretch.
Every summer it was like this, and he pleaded to Dumbledore to have him placed at the school for the summers after each school year ended.
It was no use, saying that his Aunt and Uncle were all around pleasant people, and he should be lucky to have them as a family member.
Harry had been complety outraged, there was nothing he could do about it. Years went by and Harry just gave up hope on someone rescuing him from the bloody nightmare that he had to live through.
He tried to shift his weight to his side.
Thinking that his breathing would be easier, he could handle this.
It was a piece of cake compared to the death like situations that he found himself and his friends in every year that he attended school.
Like his first year and going against Quirrel, or his second year; defeating the basilisk in the chamber of secrets; Harry didn't even want to imagine what sort of life-threatening plot he would be involved in. But, Harry had enough of it.
The more he thought about it, the more he believed that Dumbledore was using him.
Raising him up to be a weapon of war. Voldemort was evil, but it was Dumbledore who made him the way he was.
It was Dumbledore that made his golden boy go to the very people who out-right kill him every day, he would rather be in the presence of Voldemort, then be here. He would face a thousand more painful deaths, then be in this god-forsaken house.
Harry could feel his shoulder, short jolts of pain shot through every time he moved.
It was broken...
Harry thought, as he readied himself, and with quick movement, popped it back into place.
Holding his screams in the best he could, but a short yelp escaped his mouth. It was just enough to rise the attention of his Uncle Vernon. Vernon unlocked the door to the cupboard, and grabbed Harry by the hair.
Harry was already beaten and bloodied and his will was almost completely broken.
Thinking that if death eaters were here, he would let them take him and kill him. His sorry state that he was in wasn't enough for his Uncle. His Aunt and Cousin had watched everything, not even lifting a single finger to help him from his Uncle.
Harry whimpered, silently…
Through the years, Harry had managed to keep in his blinding fury, giving them the chance to repent on their misgivings. But, the string snapped at the next events that were about to take place. Petunia had walked Dudley out of the room, and had shut the door behind her.
Didn't his relatives have any care for him? It was a stupid question, Harry knew. Now focusing on the fat-man before him.
Little whimpers could be heard from within the room, this was Harry's breaking point.
His Uncle, had enough of him, so it seemed right to him to punish the boy the only way he saw fit.
"You freak, we had enough of you. So it only seems fair that you repay us." His Uncle Vernon vehemently expressed.
He started to remove Harry's clothing and that's when Harry lost it. Vernon was going to, after all this time, this was the point that Harry was ultimately afraid. He didn't want this, he was far too young to even begin to comprehend what was about to happen. This was just completely unnecessary, and utterly wrong on so many levels.
Right in this moment, he begged for someone to stop his Uncle. Yelling, even pleading to his Aunt Petunia, and his Cousin Dudley.
It was sheer hope, and Harry thought better of it.
Vernon rewarded him with a rough slap against his cheek.
Knocking him almost to the point of unconsciousness, but Harry was still aware of his surroundings and his Uncle's misguided actions. He couldn't look, so he closed his eyes, his body writhing under his Uncle's harsh hold.
And just like that, his pleads were answered, like having a wish granted, his magic had flared venomously, and now his Uncle laid crisp to the floor.
His body started to ignite in flames, crying out Dudley and Petunia had entered, and saw Harry in flames.
They both screamed, as Harry looked at them both only to have the both of them erupt into flames. The strange thing was, the flames that surrounded Harry and did his wishes, and pleads justice, weren't harming him in any way.
Harry went from scared and frightened, to completely still.
Thoughts of how he killed his Uncle, Aunt, and Cousin. He was the same as any Death Eater, but the difference was the Dursleys deserved it.
He needed to get out, flashes of their burnt bodies still fresh, and flashing throughout his mind.
Immediately, running to his Uncle, and Aunt's room, grabbing the key from the bedside table and injecting the key into the hole of the closet. Pushing the key to the left, the door caught, revealing Harry's school things, which included his wand, and broom. He only grabbed what was essential in the moment, while thinking the only thought that made any sense to him, 'hurry!'
He then quickly ran from the room, down the stairs, and out the back door.
While, his broom was held in one hand, and his wand within his pocket.
It was nighttime and he had at least had a few hours until someone found the bodies. So with one last look, Harry pulsed his magic to his broom and just flew.
Not even knowing, where he would go yet.
Just, relishing in the thought of escaping of the awful place that erupted many bad memories and experiences for him.
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A few minutes pass, and he was miles and miles away, now with a somewhat clear, headed-mind, Harry began to think.
He couldn't go to Ron's or Hermione's, he couldn't trust them. Thinking that the people he once trusted, would be completely, and utterly useless.
They probably weren't his true friends, they probably became friends, because of Dumbledore made them. The thought, only dampened Harry's mood.
He then decided on Diagon Ally. He needed to get cleaned up, and sort through his many out of whack feelings both physically, and mentally.
He was beginning to get tired, so with more power, he flew and ended up at the Leaky Cauldron.
Going to Tom, the barkeep, and asking him for a room to stay in for the night.
After giving him a few coins, Tom produced a key to Harry.
Which, Harry gratefully accepted.
Climbing up a few level of stairs, Harry turned the key into the door of his room and opened it, as it slowly creaked.
Shutting the wooden door, with a low squeak from behind.
He instantly looked at himself in the mirror, and took of his rags that could barely be considered proper clothes.
His head went down in shame, as the many carved words of 'freak' could be seen on every inch of his body. He was ashamed of his body, in all honesty. No one, would see him for him, and no one would care, or love him. Love, was only a dream that was way too high to reach for the likes of one, Harry Potter.
Harry cried himself to sleep that night, with the image of his burning relatives, playing through his mind.
His eternal nightmare. He started calling it.
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It was the early hours of the day, and Harry cringed at the pain his body was feeling.
He sat up, very slowly, he might add and placed his body in a sitting position.
He felt tired, weak, and completely hopeless.
He picked up his wand, and casted a quick 'Tempus 'charm, bright- red numbers appeared before his eyes. It appeared the time was, 12:00, so with that Harry decided to shower, then dress.
He only had Dudley's hand-me-downs, so he decided he should get new clothes at Madam Malkins.
He wanted nothing to do with Dursleys anymore. His eternal nightmare flashing repeatedly.
He had committed murder, which at the time he thought was wrong, but now he really thought more on it, and it surprised himself at how much he enjoyed the feeling of such 'raw' magic coursing through his veins.
Harry Potter was the light side's savior so it confused him at how comfortable dark magic could feel to him. How it could feel so right, but so wrong at the same time. With that thought, Harry seriously began to shower, and dress.
Hiding the scars of words he wished to forget, the best he could. Casting quick glamour charms to hide his obvious abuse, and left. Walking downstairs and entering into the world of Diagon Alley.
Pages: Six
Words: 2,072