Authors note: I own no characters you read about, they all belong to JK Rowling.

Tanathos Mallus

Venna

Green eyes blinked open to darkness. A hand comes up to brush away messy black hair to reveal a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead that told of his strange past.

Harry Potter sat up in his dingy cot in his closet sized room. The few lines of light that could filter through his boarded window fell across a bare floor. In the corner sat a trunk hidden in the corner.

Snores were heard from the room next to his, so knew his elephant of a cousin was still sleeping. Harry glanced at the clock and glared. 2:00 AM, he had been sixteen for two hours already and had slept through it.

Harry knew he wouldn't be getting anything for his birth-day this year; he would have to wait 'till he returned to school in September. Now Harry is an odd child you see, he loves doing his summer-work and school, and hates the summer holidays. Though he lives at his Aunt and Uncles house, he does not consider it his home. He considers Hogwarts his home. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is his school, you see Harry is a wizard.

Harry heard the shower running and knew his aunt was up. The thundering on the stairs told him his uncle was also up heading down to watch the morning news. Soon his aunt would be around to wake him to go make breakfast.

Knock, knock, knock Harry sighed.

"Boy! Get up you lazy brat and make breakfast before Dudders wakes up!" Petunia Dursley whinnied through the door, then unlocked the many bolts on his door and walked off muttering about good for nothing, ungrateful, freaks.

Harry pulled on the shirt he had gotten as a hand-me-down from Dudley because he grew too large to fit them anymore. The shirt could have fit a child whale. It hung loose about him and hung loosely about his shoulders showing bits of scars peeking up from his chest. The pants he put on weren't any better going threadbare and hanging precariously around his hips with a bit of string his aunt had grudgingly given him to hold them up.

Harry went downstairs to prepare the Dursleys their breakfast. Soon he had the bacon, eggs, pancakes, and hash browns started along with their tea started. Then he heard the dreaded clomping down the stairs. He turned to see his enormous cousin wobble into the kitchens rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a meaty fist. Then the whale gave a loud disgusting yawn that made his many chins wobble.

Then Dudley spotted him. A mischievous glint in his eyes and an impish grin grew on his chubby cheeks. Harry grew uneasy as his cousin drew near. But he held his thin, lanky, bruised body tall and fearless. When Dudley reached him, he darted his hand forward and Harry jumped out of the way and looked to see Dudley turn the burners up as far as they would go.

Everything started moving in slow motion as Harry watched helplessly as the breakfast went up in billowing black smoky clouds and watched his cousins face contort in pure humor and laugh maniacally and Harry's expense.

"Father, Father! Look quick, come see what the freak has done." Dudley bawled out while quivering madly in his mirth. Vernon Dursley stormed into the kitchen having seen the smoke creeping out the top of the doorway. 'Thankfully,' Harry thought, "I had enough mind to take the food from the stove and turn it off.

"What is this mess!?" Vernon bellowed with spittle flying from his mouth. Then Harry watched as his uncle cocked back a fist then as it flew towards him. He knew he wouldn't be able to move fast enough, so he squeezed his eyes shut and felt the anticipated blow to his gut and doubled over. Again to the back of the head he was hit. He fell all the way to the floor now and curled up into a ball to protect his vital areas. The fists and kicks kept reigning down on him, while his cousin laughed maliciously, and he could feel his aunts glare upon the back of his head, into his very soul. He finally heard his voice, cracked with pain cry out, something he had promised himself he wouldn't do this time. This only seemed to fuel his Uncles anger. The comments came. He was a worthless freak who only ever got anybody killed. He wasn't wanted and no one liked him or loved him, nor ever would.

Harry felt his magic stir within him, waiting for the final straw to break it loose. It wanted to wreak havoc on the Dursleys. Harry pushed that feeling down as far as he could. That was not good magic; Harry could feel the darkness still stirring within him. Finally, with a guttural bellow, Harry gave up and let the darkness come. He would stop fighting himself, and start fighting for himself. Then noticed his Uncle, had just taken a kitchen knife and buried it deep in his thin stomach.

His magic seized the blade, and traveled through it. Harry no longer felt anything; he seemed to be someone else only watching what was happening. The magic left the blade and went to his uncle, who screamed a truly fear-filled scream of terror from the unseen attacker. He watched as all three Dursleys disappeared. Harry, finally knowing they were gone for good, smiled to himself, and let the comforting blackness take him.

Harry opened his eyes to darkness once again. Though he realized he was no longer at the Dursleys. He closed his eyes and remembered the last events he remembered, and his hand flew to where the knife had been. It was bare. He noticed that while he was still sore, most his injuries seemed to have been healed. He also realized he was dressed only in a pair of black silk night pants that actually fit him. He suddenly wondered where he was, and how he had gotten here.

He opened his mouth to speak when he found a hand pressed to it, successfully keeping him quiet. Harry's eyes widened slightly in panic, but that was the only evidence that he noticed the hand. He had learned this summer to show no emotion as it usually warded off his Uncle sooner than usual.

"Shh, Potter, do not open your mouth. You will wake the others; I do not think you need that just yet." A deep, silky voice whispered, very close to his ear. Harry tried to look at who was talking to him, he recognized that voice, but it was different somehow and he couldn't quite place it. It was too dark to see anyone though. So Harry hoped this man wasn't here to do any ill will.

Slowly the man removed his hand from Harry's mouth ghosting his fingers over Harry's lips on the way. Harry shivered at the touch. The man saw this and chuckled.

"Ah, I had you all wrong, didn't I Potter? Well, that is the past now." The velvety voice whispered again, though, this time, Harry could feel his breath stir the hairs on his neck and gave a quiet gasp at the feeling. Then he felt the whispering lips float across his ear and then his throat. As suddenly as he came the man was gone again. Harry would just wait for morning he decided. Slowly, he drifted off into a fitful slumber.

DREAM

He tapped his cold long fingers on the back of a chair, and then slowly turned to face a group of Death Eaters on their knees in a circle before him. 'Great,' Harry thought, 'I'm in Ol' Voldies head again.' Quietly he looked at the Death Eaters and in his hissing voice called out, "Have you found him yet?" Voldemort asked a Death Eater he had walked up face-to-face with, Harry wondered which one this was and who Voldemort was talking about now.

"Yes, Milord, we have found him, and he is now in our custody." The deep voice aloud that was the same one as before, but now it was far less inviting. Voldemort seemed surmised at this but hid it well.

"Where are you keeping him?" The Dark Lord asked. 'Dark Lord!?' Harry thought, 'When did I start thinking of him that way?' Harry ignored this and went back to listening.

"We found him at his home in Surrey, alone. He was severely beaten and unconscious when we found him. There had been a high spike of dark magic just before we arrived, we believe by him. He seems to have taken the wards down himself. I believe he is following in your steps in power levels Milord. We brought him back here to my Manor to be healed. He is now sleeping," Said the silky voice.

"Ah, he is here then? How nice," Voldemort said in a decidedly more 'human' voice, "And you!" He said as he turned to another already cowering figure. A silver hand poked from one of the sleeves, Pettigrew. Harry felt rage run through his veins as if molten metal, "Have you completed your mission?" Voldemort asked coldly. Pettigrew whimpered and bowed his head, 'Pathetic' Harry thought in disgust. He realized He and Voldemort were sharing the same thought.

"N. n…no, Lord. The bumbling old man set wards for entering the grounds as an animagus and…" His excuses were cut short by his screaming as Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse on him.

"Fool! I will not tolerate incompetence or excuses in my presence. You WILL do better, or else you will wish I've cast crucio on you!" Harry felt the pain flow through him like a raging river of fire and dull blades ripping through his skin. He hated his visions, he had at least every other night and he always felt the pain. He fought to hold a scream down as he knew it would come out in his physical self as well. Finally he let it out and apart from hearing his scream where he was the pain stopped and he heard himself scream in his vision. The last thing he saw before he woke up was the occupants to the room towards a door to the right and Voldemort opened it slowly before entering.

End Dream

Harry's eyes flew open and he leaned over the side of the bed and tossed up the last, he was sure, of the dry toast he had gotten a few days before the incident at the Dursleys' before he woke up here. He wiped his mouth and stayed there gasping for breath as if he had just run a double marathon. Then he the weight of someone staring at him and felt his scar give a twinge. 'Crap' was all Harry thought before he was looking up into a strangely confused gaze of one Dark Lord Voldemort, AKA: Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Authors note: okay, well here is the first chapter. Tell me do you think I should continue it or too much of a used subject? Hope you enjoyed it. If not tell me what was up with it please. R&R!