Hello, EddyxMarvoloxRiddle here.

This is a new idea of mine, I don't know or recall if something like this had already been done before but this is my version of it.

I am currently getting too many ideas that it's getting difficult to focus on my other stories as well.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one.

It's a One-Shot for now.

Features: DarkShadeGray!Harry, Evil!Possessed!Ginny, Resorting!In years to come, and a Helpful!Fawkes, don't know what to do with Dumbles yet, might not bash him or make him too evil, maybe misguided.

Pairings: I'm thinking either Fleur, Hermione, or Luna for Harry, or all three if I end up making it a Harem.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and co. They are rightfully owned by J.K. Rowling.

PS: Title is Subject to Change.

Prologue

All the adrenaline that had vigorously rushed throughout his small twelve year old body, from the moment he opened the entrance all the way to having rid the world of a mere memory of one—no, the most vile and powerful Dark Lord of all times, finally seemed to leave, as his body collapsed onto itself in the kneeling position he was currently in. In front of him, laid a book—a diary, that had been the vessel of the soul of the sixteen year old Slytherin prefect from fifty or so years ago; Tom Marvolo Riddle, whom by then had already started to go by the name, Lord Voldemort. The diary, once an extravagant looking thing—regardless of the years that it had been around, was now nothing but an old, moldy artifact that still had the basilisk fang stuck in the middle, and was laying in a puddle of ink; so black, and so thick—almost unnatural. The boy sneered at the diary, coldly glaring at it, although his eyes soon became half-lidded, as the venom from the sixty foot long serpent in front of him flooded his veins.

He clutched his right forearm in pain, the blood that had been streaming out; once red, was now becoming darker, almost like the book's ink. He grits his teeth softly in pain, for he did not have much strength, nor any energy left. He had already broken out into cold sweat, his body temperature was rising, his breathing was labored; his somewhat underdeveloped lungs—from years of abuse at his relatives' hands; were expanding and compressing rapidly. His heart, too, was having difficulties, he could feel, maybe even hear the pounding of it against his rib cage, it's loud and fast pumping, yet he could feel nothing. He was numb, he felt him mouth water, as saliva gathered within it more than it usually did, he tried spitting or swallowing, but he had become mildly paralyzed. He idly wondered if this was how dying felt like. Curiously, he looked over at the body of the red haired eleven year old sister of his best friend. She was lying on her back, unmoving, her skin was pale, he lips were purplish, his gaze went onto her chest—it was not moving; she wasn't breathing.

She was dead…

It was only the most logical, and perhaps most obvious conclusion that he could come to. He felt a bit angry with himself, he was not able to save her, he had not been fast enough in dealing with Riddle. He clutched his forearm tighter, to the point of digging his cut nails into his skin. He looked over at the sorting hat, it was immobile, and silent, at that he thought—if it was even possible; that the hat, too, had died. He wondered how he could tell her mother, the woman who'd taken him into her family, that her daughter was dead. How could he tell her brother, who was in the chamber with him as well? There was no easy way in doing this, nothing could be done. Of course, perhaps he should not be thinking these things at all, seeing as he is in no better shape himself. The venom was rushing through his veins faster, never had he felt such searing pain, not even at his uncle's or cousin's hands.

Something happened within the air, something he was oblivious to, even though it was his own doing; subconsciously it may be. The magicks in his system were combating the ancient magicks within the venom of the ancient Serpent King. The internal battle was so vicious, so intense, that it was been forced to go outward, towards the very aura that surrounded him, the one he did not know about for he was not an aura reader. The swirling magicks around his small body became much more violent, unseen by anyone, and anything—that is, unless you are an ancient and powerful mythical and magical being like Fawkes. Phoenixes were made from magick itself; they were phenomena of nature, even magick.

Fawkes could not help but gaze in wonder at the powerful auras that battled around the poor boy. He narrowed his blue eyes as he felt—and saw, an extremely dark piece of magicks pulse out of the childling's scar. He knew he could not get close now an heal the venom, he had been to late to do so; he had underestimated the raw and potent magicks in the venom of his old companion, as well as Salazar's familiar; Jumana. He gave a sad trill at that thought. Jumana had once been like her namesake; a silver pearl, or at least, she was as beautiful as one. However, years after her familiar bond with Salazar died, she had lost her eauty, and had become corrupt by the darkness that ensued the castle throughout the years to come. He kept his eyes on the scar, and saw t glow eerily black, as black as Nyx's blanket when she covers the heavens. Then, something that he never thought would be possible happened, the scar's glow slowly turned light green, and it melded with the red aura that battled the silver of Jumana's, soon it was another color, not a yellow color like one would expect it to be, for auras did not mix like the color wheel. No, it was a gray color, mixed with streaks of emerald; the childling's aura. Though he noted, that it was in constant change, going from dominant gray with emerald streaks, to emerald with gray streaks, like a balance.

Then he saw something even more extraordinary, the combined auras that were not part of the childling's, soon overcame the one from Jumana, and then there was a backlash of power, caused by the boy's aura and magicks, that shook the school itself, and perhaps even the grounds. Once having regained his bearings, Fawkes saw the child had collapsed, his eyes closed, his breathing was now much calmer, and his sweating had stopped. He glided over to the boy, and cried on his forearm, unknowingly helping the boy with more than just healing physical wounds and combating any left over magicks of the venom. Fawkes then stayed there, and rested against the boy, waiting for him to awake.

Within young Harry Potter's mindscape, there was much conflict, just as there was outside his body. He looked around in confusion, as he saw himself in the middle of a pitch black room, floating around, doing nothing but wondering what was going on, and why he was there, and also what was to happen as well. Then, he heard it, a loud hiss, just like the basilisk's, he immediately found himself wrapped within the coils of a silver serpent, baring its fangs at him, he was taken aback by the sudden situation that he had no idea what to do or how to react. Only when the snake tightened its hold did he start struggling and releasing his magick; subconsciously of course. His power made the snake release him and it hissed uncomfortably at the purity and raw potency of the childling's aura.

It bared its fangs and tried to strike again at the child, but the child's magicks reacted on the instinct of self-preservation and on the need to protect its host—nay, its master. Both struggled to become dominant within the power struggle that was going on within the psyche of the young mind of the child. Should the snake triumph, then the child would surely die, as the snake was but a representation of the basilisk's venom, that was currently running through the veins of the childling—which were not running as fast it once was, due to the magicks of the child being resilient and stubborn to allow its master to die. Just then, the child's magicks became something like the snake was, a mental and magical representation of the child's magicks; a griffin. Both reptile and mammalian/avionic creatures clashed against the other; a stalemate.

Young Harry could do nothing but watch in awe at what was happening, never had he seen a fight like this, not even his own squabble with the basilisk had been this violent. Both creatures were biting or scratching in the griffin's case, at one another. The snake then did something, it struck its tail at the boy, the griffin seeing this moved in front of its master. A bad mistake, the snake's tail stopped, and the snake struck its fangs into the griffin and wrapped it in its coils. It bit and bit again, and again, with much more force after every bite, and with each bite, it would wrap the griffin tighter, the griffin was losing its strength, and if it lost its strength, then so did young Harry. Its golden eyes traveled onto the child's mental representation of himself, and saw that he was becoming weaker as well, the griffin slowly closed its eyes slowly, it knew that there was no other possibility; unless that thing helped, and there was no way that it would.

Just then, a cloaked figure appeared in front of the boy's body, dark aura surrounding it as it let its power out. The figure over its eleven years of having been within the child's body, had become symbiotic, it knew that it could not die so long as the child lived. It had much more important things to do then die along with this boy, it had to influence him and destroy him. It snarled at the snake, and gave an angry hiss at it, before it glowed pitch black and became naught but a river of power, it slammed onto the griffin and combined with it. The griffin, once being red and golden colored, was not black, gray, and white, its eyes had now become blood red, it snarled at the snake, and expanded its wings before clawing and biting at the snake. It then finally ate it and the snake's aura had become one with it and the child, just as the child's blood had now bonded with the venom, making him immune to all poisons.

After it devoured the snake hungrily, it changed back into the cloaked figure that had apparently saved the child, then it slowly walked over to Harry, hissing softly along the way. It would finally possess the boy, and Lord Voldemort would be revived! It was now directly standing in front of the boy, looking into the emerald orbs with its own ruby ones. It stuck its hand out and caressed the boy's face, before pressing its thumb hard against the scar, the child started to give an unearthly yell, looking into the dark red eyes that were gleefully laughing at him, enjoying his pain. Harry grit his teeth at the figure, and started to fight back, if only a little, he was but a boy, his magicks had yet to become mature, it would be much easy for the creature before him to possess him.

The mental representation of Harry, or Harry himself even, started to lose strength, just as his magical representation had when the snake had it bound. His eyes drooped, his will; though strong and amazing for a boy so small and so young, was slowly residing. As he felt his life force going and willpower leaving him, something amazing and of extreme luck happened to the boy. A few drops of what seemed like water propelled down and hit the creature, making it sizzle and smoke as it screeched in a blood curdling inhuman voice. The water then glowed and attacked the creature's chest, making it expand much to the size bigger than that of a troll. Then, the griffin that the creature had absorbed, came flying out of its body; the boy's magicks were now his once more. The griffin growled at the creature, and it attacked, devouring it whole, while black liquid splattered everywhere,

The screeches of the creature were so loud and deafening that it made Harry's ears gush with blood, but they soon stopped once the creature was no more, having been devoured by the griffin, who was now glowing in a gray light. It became a foot longer and a foot taller, its wings grew as well, its majestic feathers, which had gone red after being separated from the creature, had become a dark shade of gray, and its eyes; which had become golden yet again, were now heterochromatic; one was emerald, the other red. It then puffer out its chest and expanded its wings, and gave a loud powerful victory screech, having won its battle. It then calmly strode back towards the paralyzed boy, and sat on its hind legs, before thrusting its beak into the boy's chest.

Harry, finally came out of his trance-like state, and rose his shaking hand onto the griffin's beak, and rubbed it, causing the griffin to make a sound of pleasure, showing the boy that it liked being petted, the boy was its master, its host, its user; it would always protect the child from any foreign magicks. Harry then threw hiw arms around the griffin's neck and nuzzled into its feathers, and the griffin trilled in happiness, before it glowed and into the child it went.

Eyes opened with a start, emerald orbs looking around wildly, as they tried to regain their bearings. The eyes were blinked a few times, and the body on which they rested upon got into a sitting position. Harry Potter had just awoken from the strangest dream he'd ever had. He looked over at the phoenix in front of him, who seemed to had been recently awoken as well. It trilled happily at him, which caused Harry to wince just a bit, before he calmed and petted the phoenix, smiling while feeling the warm feathers, ignoring the small amount of pain that it caused.

Fawkes had noticed the childling's reactions, and its theory had been confirmed, the child was no longer light, nor was he tainted, he was now gray. He gave a sad trill, and hopped on the child's shoulder, and preened the boy's hair, which caused the boy to wince just the smallest amount, before calming and becoming comforted. Indeed, gray, and from the look of it, he was a darker shade of it, seeing as he winced when he came in contact with a pure light creature such as a phoenix; much like himself. He could not report this to Dumbledore, his familiar-wizard had already done much wrong by this boy, he would simply bend the truth; he cried on the boy's wound and healed him, that is all that happened. Fawkes, however, was surprised that his tears didn't cure the child from any dark taint; but at least it balanced him, if only just and it destroyed the dark and vile taint that was the soul of Salazar's descendent.

Harry reached over and walked to the sword, he picked it up, and balanced himself on it, he was still weak from all that had happened today. He went over and picked up the hat and he folded it neatly, before tucking it into his inside pocket. The diary had been forgotten for now, by both Harry and the phoenix on his shoulder. Neither noticed the black liquid that went from the diary and slowly flowed towards the dead body of Ginerva Weasley.

Hope you all enjoyed it.

Would love to see some feedback for it.

Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

til next time,

ExMxR