Hiya guys! First off, apologies to anyone who was reading 'Justifying Magic', Rl is just being a bit annoying lately. But I've got tonnes of plot bunnies at the moment (yet again during exam times – why?)

This is my first time writing a 'Harry goes to another school' fic so I hope it isn't too bad. The first two chapters will be mainly about the transition so don't worry if ya think it's going no where!

Also if this fic is similar to any other 'alternate school' fics then I apologise as I didn't do it intentionally.

Btw I am extreeeeeeemely hyper and random, so some parts will reflect that! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter; If I did boy would things be a helluva lot weirder!

This story has been written by the EPIC DARWIN! So in your face Saint!

Summary: Discovering Dumbledore and his friends' true intentions just wasn't enough for Fate. With a new inheritance and secret to hold, will Vivian Academy help Harry find his way? Or will the Wizarding World just drag him back? Slash m/m Creature!Harry

Warning! Contains: Abuse, Violence, Slash, Femslash, Het …I'll add to the list whenever I think of anything.

Chapter 1: Escaping Hell

We enjoy warmth because we have been cold.
We appreciate light because we have been in darkness.
By the same token, we can experience joy because we have known sadness.
-David Weatherford

"Urgh, why have I got such a headache!"

Harry scrunched his leafy green eyes closed, attempting to relieve the pounding headache by gently massaging the sides of his head - It didn't work. The incessant throbbing in his skull had been with him ever since the ministry incident 5 days ago. No matter how many pain-relief potions he received from Madam Pomphrey, it just would not go away, and it was starting to annoy the hell out of Harry. That is, if the sarcastic grumbling was anything to go by.

"Great! How brilliant! Now, not only do I have to go back to the frickin' Dursleys, I have a blimmin' headache too! Ahahahahaha! Fate, you are one heck of a bi–"

"You do realise that talking to yourself is one of the first signs of going mad, right?"

Harry glared slightly at Neville smirking opposite him, accompanying the flat stare with a low growling noise in his throat to show his annoyance. His eyes were twinkling far too much to be offering any sympathy whatsoever. Neville was perched smugly upon the end of his neat and tidy bed, peering up from behind his dusty old herbology book. Unlike the others, he actually thought to pack for the train the night before, so he'd been quietly reading whilst the others ran around like panicked ministry officials. The rest had finished a few minutes ago, with Harry the only one left to pack. For such a quiet boy, Neville really was a cruel, cruel person!

Seeing that he wasn't going to receive sympathy any time soon, Harry decided that the childish approach of sticking his tongue out was far more appropriate. Another throaty laugh from Neville had him sniggering slightly too. Sticking his nose in the air and haughtily crossing his arms, Harry gave his best Holier-than-thou attitude to Neville.

"What makes you think I was talking to myself, peasant? For all you know I could've been talking to those wrackspurts."

Both boys let out small chuckles of amusement, they'd become surprisingly close after the ministry event. Neville comforted Harry whenever he thought about the untimely demise of his Godfather, and in return Harry visited him frequently when he was in the medical wing. Whenever Harry's mind returned to Sirius, he would just block himself off from the world. Apparently with his ebony black locks hanging in front of his stony, distant eyes, he looked eerily haunting. Neville had told him, he looked a bit like a banshee. But then, with the amount of death Harry's seen, he wouldn't be surprised if he was. Everywhere he went he seemed to bring death. Voldemort (one of the only bonuses), his parents, Cedric…

And now, even his Godfather…Damn it! Snap out of it, Harry! Dwelling upon it will only make it worse…

During their coversations, Harry realised that Neville wasn't as timid as he previously thought. He's just a teensy bit shy around people he doesn't know very well; around friends he's as boisterous and as loud as the next Gryffindor - Although whether that's a good thing or not, has yet to be seen.

"Well if you were talking to me, I certainly didn't know about it!"

"You mean you weren't listening? How very rude Mr. Longbottom!"

A small tap on the back of Neville's head with a conveniently placed book sparked the beginning of an all out book war. By the end of it they were both giggling madly, with the slight ache of the bruises taking away some of the pounding sensation in the back of Harry's head. After a while Harry remembered he had yet to finish packing and reluctantly dragged his lethargic body back over to his half-filled trunk. Letting out an annoyed huff, which mildly disturbed his bird's nest of hair, he sluggishly began to pack his belongings. One by one he grabbed his worn and tattered school uniform and folded it with an army like precision. Even though his clothing wouldn't take up much place, with how little there was of it, the books he bought by owl mail would take up more than enough of space.

Si…Sirius had encouraged him to start looking more at books, and while that was pretty rich coming from Siriud, he did have a good point. He'd slipped him some books on the quiet for subjects such as charms and defence, mostly those that he himself found interesting. Predictably, the majority of it was on pranks, but he found them rather interesting as a lot of the obscure spells would have quite a lot of use in a duel.

But, now the books were worth more of sentimental value to Harry. They were the last things his godfather gave him. He couldn't help but feel warm tears well up in his eyes as he traced a soft fingertip across the smooth engravings of text on the tattered covers. He blinked his eyes furiously so as to not let the teardrops fall. Sirius was the closest thing he had to a father in his life, and now he's gone. If he didn't think Fate hated him already, he did now.

Why can't he just be normal?

"If you don't want to go to the Dursley's, just don't go."

Momentarily startled by Neville's abrupt advice, he froze for a second or two. After registering what he'd said, he carried on packing his trunk, pausing every now and again to try and casually wipe away the lingering tears. Once he'd quietly shut his trunk lid closed, he locked it with a quick flourishing spell and pondered over Neville's suggestion. He could…But Dumbledore and his lackeys would almost definitely send him back. He shook his head. It wasn't worth it.

But maybe...Cue light bulb.

"Hmmm, I think I might just have an idea…"

With that, Harry dashed off out of the overly crimson and gold room and past the painting of the fat pink lady, too determined in his actions to notice the surprised cry of Neville as he disappeared round the corner. The golden glow of the dawn sun filtered through the stain-glass windows, casting beautiful images on the cream paint walls opposite the polished cherry wood frames.

Surprisingly, there were not many people present in the corridors. Although now that Harry thought about it, it was probably because no-one wanted to be the ones without a compartment. There was one too few compartments on the train which meant some poor students ended up waiting in the train toilets.

Which is a little bit intimidating when you walk in.

Turning the final corner Harry was met by a puzzling sight. Strange, usually the staircase to Dumbledore's room was hidden, but now it was in plain view. Sensing an unusual tension in the air, Harry altered his steps and sunk lower to try and make his movements silent. Various scenarios ran through Harry's head. If someone was attacking Dumbledore in his office, he might just be able to startle them enough for Dumbledore to attack back. Or maybe…

He stuck close to the icy cold brick wall and made steady even paces up the marble stairs. Wincing minutely at every soft tap his clunky shoes made, he finally caught hints of conversation.

"W…are…ou…doing…th…rry?"

"We're…ying…keep…on him…ut…don't…know…where he is."

Harry was confused by the voices. As they became clearer with every step he took, they seemed more and more familiar to him. Was Dumbledore just talking to a teacher? No, it couldn't possibly be that! He wouldn't leave the staircase open if he was… But then why were there no raised voices? Surely if there was fighting, there would at least be some shouting.

As he reached the last step, he noticed the grand oak door was ever so slightly ajar. By now Harry was extremely worried; Dumbledore would never be so careless! Adjusting his position so that he would be out of view, he carefully peered into Dumbledore's quarters. The environment seemed the same, ancient tomes strewn upon every available surface, with teak and mahogany bookshelves still standing proud in their place by the dome shaped walls. Many archaic instruments and ornaments were arranged haphazardly upon their sturdy wooden shelves. But once he saw the figures standing by Dumbledore's desk, it was all he could do to not gasp in complete and utter shock.

Whilst Dumbledore was a no-brainer, he certainly wasn't expecting Luna and Hermione!

What the hell are they doing there?

"What did you think you were doing?"

Harry was startled at the anger dripping from Dumbledore's voice. Quickly thinking back, he realised he'd never heard him talk like that – ever! Even though he was being ignored by the youngest 2 Weasley's and the two currently cowering in front of Dumbledore, he hardly thought that they could do something that warranted this sort of action.

"Potter's a liability professor! I understand we're supposed to act as his friends, but not after this!" Such an indignant voice could only belong to Hermione.

"I agree…He's…Too strong…Magic likes him too much. And it's nearly…time. We need to…take his magic…and give it…to Neville."

…What… Neville…This couldn't be… It couldn't! It can't be! No, he's hearing things. They couldn't possibly be –

"This is why I'm telling you to keep an eye on him! If what we think is going to happen, does indeed happen, his inheritance is going to reveal everything. We cannot allow this to happen! We need his money for the order and you all need to do your part in keeping Potter oblivious to what we're doing. If he so much hears you lot talking again, you two can forget your share of the deal. If we obliviate him too much he'll figure it out on his own eventually!"

"We're sorry, we truly are!"

…Inheritance…? Deal…? Obliviating…? What are they talking about? It can't be…It can't be…

~I'm sorry little one, but it's the truth~

Harry nearly yelped at the sudden voice, hurriedly biting his lip to prevent any such sound from escaping. Snapping his head around to find the source of the startling yet soothing tone, he noticed a spark of scarlet red in the corner of his vision. The faint flicker drew his attention to a small area almost entirely closed in by the bulky bookshelves, but remained illuminated by a strange calming light. He squinted his eyes slightly in order to protect them from the heat radiating towards him. After a while he opened them fully when the sweltering heat faded into a relaxing warmth. It was then that he saw the source of the strange stimuli.

…Fawkes?

~Sorry little one, I did not mean to scare you. But what they're saying is the truth. I tried to tell you whenever you appeared here, but Dumbledore never gave me the chance. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, little chick~

Harry was frozen to the spot. What's happening? Is it really true? Did his friends… only wanted him for his money…a-and to steal his magic…b-but w-why?

Hot tears began to run down his ashen white face, his quiet sniffles muffled by the thick woolly sleeve of Dudley's old jumper. He could faintly hear Fawkes' soft crooning in his head, but it didn't help. His chest felt heavy with sadness and anguish, weighing it down like stone inside his heart. As his quivering fingers rubbed at slowly reddening eyes he felt the anger leap into his throat. Why does it have to be him! Can't anything ever be good in his life! But deep inside Harry knew that the way his life was now, such happiness would never occur.

Flitting open his eyes, his melancholic gaze rested upon the phoenix now cocking his head to the side, his fiery red eyes gazing deeply at him as if to tell him that everything would be alright…in time. His own head tilted to the side in reply.

How was Fawkes talking to him? What was he doing, reading his mind?

~Yes. You too can talk to me if you project your thoughts in this direction. But now is not the time for that. They will be leaving soon, you must go. Hurry, before they find you, little one. You will find out more soon enough~

It took Harry a while to read the urgency in his sweet song, probably because it always sounds so melodic. But the loud clank of heels clicking against the stone floor moved him into action. He swivelled around and sprinted, much like a gazelle, down the staircase, his light springy strides making minimal noise as he ran to safety. After a couple of dimly lit corridors and slippery stairs, Harry slid down against a bitingly cold wall on the 3rd floor. Panting lightly at the sudden adrenaline rush, he brought his shaking knees up to his chest, and embraced them with his arms. Black storm clouds obstructed any and all light from the sun as they trudged ominously through the previously bright blue sky.

What was going to happen now? His so called 'friends' were nothing more than manipulative liars, and his headmaster wanted to turn him into a squib presumably, if that's what they meant by taking his magic. Just the thought of that made his body shudder and cause something peculiar lurch in his chest. It was a strange feeling, but one that didn't seem to return after a few moments of bewilderment. As the headache Harry had previously reared its head once more, Harry let out a groan of frustration.

Looks like his fabulously fantastic holiday just got a helluva lot worse.

"You will see child, you will see…"

"YOU THINK YOU CAN GET SOME SORT OF SPECIAL TREATMENT, YOU FREAK? HUH? WELL, DO YA? FREAK'S HAVE NO BIRTHDAY, BECAUSE THEY NEVER SHOULD'VE BEEN BORN!"

Harry wheezed and coughed as he heard the thunderous sounds of his uncle's stomps gradually fade upstairs. He could feel the sticky hot feeling of blood clinging to his throat as his lungs tried to hack it up. Every time he coughed his whole inner torso and head would protest loudly against the action. His eyes would blear as black spots dotted his vision, with a painful heat coursing throughout his brain as he tottered upon the edge of unconsciousness. He was grimly grateful that physical abuse was a far as Vernon went…for now. He could only think back to what caused this mess.

He didn't finish his chores today - that was his first mistake. It wasn't like he could though. During the past two weeks of Hell, his body had been bruised and broken more times than he could remember; he could barely stand up, let alone do menial chores. On top of that, it was his birthday, something the Dursley's abhorred with every ounce of their being.

Whenever Vernon came for him, he thought it would be the last, but he would always wake up to throbbing pain throughout his entire being, the centre of which was his head where his headache would still not relent. And yet they would still expect him to work - after all Freaks were supposed to do the chores, Freaks were supposed to be bordering upon the line of death. But it was during those periods of unconsciousness he would always see it…

His magic.

Flashback

Harry could feel the pain slowly ebb away as his muscles relaxed and unwound. Blood stained lips parted ever so slightly as he relished the few moments that were free of agony. It felt as if he was floating in the gentle waves an ocean or a lake, the sense of weightlessness that accompanied it never ceased to be soothing. He could feel all of the painful emotions just drift away – Hatred, Sorrow, Regret, Envy. Instead he could feel his body resonate with the pleasant healing emotions of love and joy, laughter and contentedness. The tranquillity and peace he felt in this place made him never want to leave.

As Harry lost himself in the endless sensations of pure emotions, he began to notice a strange ripple disturbing the soothing sea. Emerald eyes emerged from beneath ghost white eyelids to gaze serenely at what lay before them. He was surrounded by a seemingly endless lake of liquid fire and water. He would've called the fire lava or magma, but the little flickers of sparks made him think otherwise. Lifting a creamy white hand as delicate as a spring flower, he watched as tiny little rivers of fire and water twirled around his fingers, caressing them with their contradicting heat. The two elements swirled around each other as well; fringes of raven black and metallic gold would merge at the edges and form little threads that would weave around him. He could feel the soft strings gently tug him towards the origin of the pulsing waves. As they got closer and closer, he could feel the power within the steady pulses grow and grow.

"Hmm?"

He could feel himself leave the comforting presence of the small rivulet, which turned to a cold hard glass beneath him. He looked down at the previously fluid river to find a sizeable tube made of grey-tinted glass with mystical runes etched upon its sides. He looked around him to see similar tunnels engraved with identical symbols. They seemed to go on forever into the bleak darkness. His soft silky feet stepped onto the darkness, somehow finding an invisible footing as he then noticed tubes running below and above him as well. His body turned slowly as he marvelled at his surroundings, the pulses still spreading out from behind him. When he'd finally turned around fully, his eyes widened in child-like amazement.

In the centre of the eternal darkness was a floating glowing orb of brilliant blues, raging reds, glittering golds and bold blacks. Like the tiny river, it too was made of hundreds and thousands of flexible small threads, but these were arranged in odd sections of colour. The colouration changed slowly from the outside, from blue to black to gold to red. The red took the largest amount of space, its flickering fire radiating with a comforting heat. As he padded forward on empty space he noticed the heavy pulsing soon faded until the gentle melodious sound of singing reached his elf-like ears. Reaching out a hand as white as apple blossoms, he felt the threads twine together to form another hand which extended out to meet his. He let out a soft gasp as he felt the limitless power flow into him, filling every nook and cranny with its sensational caress. Even when he could feel it in his very toes, he sensed it happily rolling around him as he was brought into the core of the power. The singing stopped, much to his disappointment. Instead, an odd voice started to talk.

"Welcome, little one. Do you know where you are?"

Harry gave a negative shake as the little twines of colour embraced him with the love of a mother, the pleasant chuckle of the mysterious being echoed down the threads. It was hard to tell whether it was male or female, as it sounded like thousands of voices talking at the exact same time at the exact same pitch. Whilst it was a little bit disturbing, it was easily forgiven.

"Well, this is both your mind, your soul and your magical core, my child. We all exist as one, and you my dear little one, have been through so much at such a young age. Those vile creatures wouldn't have just been taking away your magic; the removal of it would've killed you, as it is linked with your very being. I don't want to do this child, but I will have to remind you of those painful past events those heathens made you forget..."

Harry let out a small whimper at the prospect of seeing the memories. He felt so child-like now that he was here; he wasn't ready to see the betrayals of what he thought were his close friends. But he knew it needed to be done, it would help him figure out a way to stay away and hide from the people who had thrown away his trust. A low growl coming from the strange entity surprised him for a moment.

"If I had any say in this they would be dead before they even knew it. Just remember child, what they were planning was so utterly wrong that no-one in their right mind would even consider it. If you ever see them again, you should know how to defend yourself against them, with both offence and defence. You need to prepare yourself, little one. Strange events are about to begin"

End of Flashback

Harry longed for such comfort more than ever as he lay in his broken state. Whenever he fell asleep or unconscious he would go to his core. At first his magic showed him the betrayals of his 'friends', which cemented their plans of increasing his skills in both defence and offence…He just didn't know how to go about it. He watched as his friends conversed about the best ways to go about controlling him. He watched as Remus, Moody and all the adults but Sirius went over plans on taking his magic, almost causing his magic entity to throw a temper tantrum. But what he despised most of all though was how the whole of the order went with Sirius to the ministry – with not a death eater in site – and pushed him through the veil! The whole idea made his blood boil in rage. What else had they lied about!

Once he had seen all of the memories, he would still drift there to visit and chat – it wasn't like anyone else was going to talk to him. There he would rest in content like a cat in front of a fire; almost purring at the warm fuzzy feeling he would feel whenever he lingered in his core. Occasionally it would teach him little songs that seemed vaguely familiar, but would escape him like smoke on a breeze. His magic told him that the little tunes would become useful to him one day, which made Harry listen even more intently.

But now he opened a swollen eye to look only valuable item in his tiny closet – the clock. It was only 2 minutes to go before it officially turned his birthday. What a birthday it would be. He was all alone in his dusty closet, having let Hedwig go free before he even arrived at King's Cross Station, telling her to find herself a cosy nest for the summer. He could've sworn that she understood what he had said as her loud hoot was quite obviously a positive reply, giving his hair a quick motherly nip before launching out of the (thankfully open) window.

He could see the final few seconds ticking away as he counted down the final few seconds to the anniversary of his day of birth. This was the only joy he could have during his summer so he would definitely make the most out of it. Even if his voice did sound croaky and hoarse with his strained throat, he was going to do it.

Screw anyone who thinks otherwise.

"F-Five…Fou-our…T-Three…Two…On-ne…Happy b-birthday Harry."

Harry let his head flop to the beige carpeted floor as he let a small grin spread across his face. He gazed wearily at the clock as the slightly crooked second hand ticked past the twelve mark - the rhythmic sound echoing through his pounding head. His chest flared up in pain once more as he let out a weary sigh.

If only his life could be better…

Suddenly, Harry's eyes widened in stunned horror as even more excruciating pain raced down his spine. It was overloading all his senses with powerful waves of agony. His mouth opened in a silent screech of paralysing pain, teeth bared as his hands clawed at his skin trying to dig out the source of the pain. His body convulsed and thrashed as he begged and pleaded for it to stop. His entire back and head roared with the agonising pain and it felt as if he was ripping into two. The pain heightened and a strangled cry escaped his lips, the sound seeming to echo into the air like a sonic wave. It was as ear-piercing and powerful as a dying dragon's roar, and going by what he felt, he most certainly felt like that dragon at that moment. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to stave off some of the pain and somehow live through it.

But as suddenly as the pain arrived, it began to disappear. The dancing tendrils of his magical core sprang up beside him, encasing him in a butterfly like cocoon, hiding him from any possible onlookers. They gently stroked his arms and legs as they eased the pain out of his body. Harry could feel his body start to calm and relax under the soft cooing of his magic as it began to hum the little songs it taught him and put his mind at a soft and comfortable rest. Even with the pain fleeing his body, he still felt extremely off. There was a phantom pain in his back and it felt like there was something unbalancing him, but at the same time he never felt better. His mind felt clearer as though it was a town being rebuilt after a hurricane. He could distantly feel the loving wrappings of his magic begin to withdraw and he flickered open his pain-weary eyes to see if he had caused anything to break in his thrashing.

…

…Well that wasn't quite what he was expecting.

Gigantic roaring flames of brilliantly red fire danced around him, his eyes followed the individual flames as they performed their intricate little dance, engulfing the house in its strangely comforting ferocity. He watched curiously as little spits of fire jumped onto his hands, only to vanish with a tiny whooshing noise. He couldn't help but let out a manic giggle as he reached a hand out towards the entrancing dancers, amazed at how none of the flames singed his skin and left it as white as the ash he would often see in the fireplace hearth. Perhaps he was becoming a bit crazy, but if he was going to die, he was at least going to die knowing he enjoyed his last moments.

His eyes began to flutter close, with the tiny particles of ash beginning to obscure his vision as they rested upon the finely curved ends of his eyelashes. He was just so tired. The flames were spreading much closer to him now, but the smoke still lingered behind invisible barrier and his mind was slowly hallucinating. Through the crackle of the popping sparks, he could hear the faint yells of a person screeching what sounded like his name, and the thump of fast approaching footsteps running on the laminate flooring. Why was his imagining such things now? After all…

Who would want to save him now?

As he hung onto the last threads of consciousness, he dimly heard the crash of his cupboard door against the breaking walls. Through his blurred vision he could make out a deathlike face covered in soot and ash just 2 inches away from his. He unsuccessfully tried to hear what his was saying over the sharp sounds of splitting wood and bellowing blaze.

"…rry!...ke up!...don't…f…ll..s…ep…!"

Try as he might he just couldn't make it out. Maybe it was Death, here to collect his soul after evading him for so long. As he let the bleak darkness take over him, he gave the figure frantically shaking his fragile body one last sad smile.

Wavy raven hair and piercing coal eyes…Just who was he?

Yay! I finally completed the chapter!

…And now I have to prepare for my English controlled assessment…Damn.

Well at least I got the beginning of my plot bunny out of my head, sorry if some of the bits were a bit suckish – I'm not that great at narrative writing (so the prospect of an English assessment…not that great!). But hey, plot bunny shot and killed!

If you have any questions about it please ask! Likewise with any mistakes – please point them out! CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome – flames will be used for roasting marshmallows – YUM!

P.S. It might not be who you think!

Please read and review – The epic Darwin bids ye a farewell.