Summary: Harry manages to successfully escape from the Dursley's when he's just six years old. He's found by Regulus Black who decides to take him in and nurture his talent. He attends Durmstrang as the Black Heir making allies and enemies. His loyalty is first and foremost to his house The Ancient and Noble House of Black. Dark!Harry

Warnings: Slash. Harry will be bisexual so I might have him in a homosexual relationship. I have no idea who I want him to end up with. Right now I'm leaning towards Calypso Rosier (my OC) or perhaps Daphne Greengrass but I'm unsure. I'll probably do a poll later on. If there's a particular pairing you want to see just write it in a review and I'll see if I can include it, without messing up the storyline. Some similarities might occur to The Black Heir by FirePhoenix8... I'm warning you now. That is one of my favourite fanfics of all time so I obviously like a lot of the ideas (like Harry going to Durmstrang, Necromancy, Black Magic, the Vampires and so on...) so I will incorporate them into my own fanfic. Another fic that you might see similarities to is Dark as Night by LavenderStorm that too is a favourite of mine. One thing I can say with utter certainty is that I will not copy them. Ideas will be similar but not exactly alike. And if you haven't read those fics mentioned above, I highly recommend you do.

Key:

"Speech"

"~Parseltounge~"

Disclaimer: Story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


The Ancient and Noble House of Black

1. Regulus

It was a sunny day which was rare for February.

At first glance it would seem as if everything was perfect and that was exactly what the Dursley family of 4 Privet Drive counted on. The neighbourhood had no idea of the horrors that occurred in their house. Nobody knew how Harry James Potter or better known as Freak or Boy was treated. But they would soon find out.

A small, scrawny and malnourished boy tossed fitfully from side to side in an attempt to sleep but the pain in his back made it very difficult. Harry was used to being treated as dirt by his family, he was perfectly aware than all three members of the Dursley family hated him. He was unsure as to what he did exactly to garner such hatred but he knew better than to ask questions after living with the Dursley's for 5 years. Harry Potter was six years old yet he had lived through what most people would never experience. However while Harry was use to hatred and the occasional smack from his Aunt Petunia as well as the regular abuse from Vernon, he had never been beaten so badly before.

It had all started on a Friday afternoon, Harry and Dudley had arrived home from school and Dudley eager to get Harry in trouble had said "Mummy, Harry turned the teachers hair blue!" Now such a statement in a normal family would have been laughed at and then promptly ignored. However the Durlsey's were no ordinary family despite what they liked to believe. The Dursley's were aware of magic. So Petunia had immediately believed her son who for possibly the first time in his life had been correct. For it had been Harry's magic that had turned Miss Sweeney's hair blue. Of course Harry wasn't aware that he was a wizard or that he had magic. This had inevitably led to Harry denying such a thing however Petunia had grabbed him by the arm and shoved him inside the cupboard under the stairs with a hissed remark, "You wait till Vernon gets home, boy." Harry had sat in the cupboard for two hours in fear, waiting for his uncle to return home. And Vernon hadn't disappointed, upon learning of what had occurred he had reacted in his usual manner, violence. Harry knew something was wrong the minute the belt had hit him sharply on the back. After 19 more hits he had been tossed inside the cupboard and the Dursley's had retired to the living room.

Harry was no stranger to 'beating the freakishness out of him' as Vernon called it but he very rarely hit Harry with his belt and at most would only swing once or twice. Harry believed that Vernon didn't like putting in the extra effort but this time Vernon had been frothing at the mouth mad. An angry Vernon was a Vernon that was best avoided. He knew he couldn't stay with the Dursley's any longer. Vernon had threatened him multiple times to send him to an orphanage yet for some reason had never carried out the threat. When Harry had been younger he had believed that an orphanage would be far worse than the Dursley's for why else would Vernon use that as a threat? But at 6 and a half years of age Harry was far wiser. A new student had arrived at his school who was from a nearby orphanage. According to the teachers the boy, David, was some kind of prodigy and the orphanage had used all the resources and money they had to send him to the best school they could find in the neighbourhood. Harry knew with utter certainty that while David was quite clever for a 5 year old and was in Dudley and Harry's year for a reason, Harry himself was more of a prodigy than David could ever hope to be. Harry constantly underperformed so he would get exactly two marks below from Dudley every time they had a test, in order to avoid his Aunt and Uncle's anger.

So Harry came to the childish conclusion that he would go and stay at an orphanage and when he showed that he was a prodigy he would receive the same treatment. He turned over carefully, making sure to avoid putting extra pressure of his back which was still stinging from the earlier beating. A smile bloomed across his face. He finally had a plan which he would put into action in the morning when Petunia would order him to wash his Uncle's car. For the first time in his life Harry was glad for Petunia's love of routine.


The next morning Harry woke to the sound of his Aunt's shrill voice.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

His Aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched.

Harry heard her walking towards the kitchen and the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He muffled the groan that escaped his lips as he stretched out inside the cramped cupboard he called a bedroom. While his injuries had miraculously healed overnight his back was still sore and his whole body ached. Harry rolled of the makeshift bed which was basically an old mattress and pillow of Dudley's. And looked around for some clothes to wear which he quickly pulled on. It wasn't until he had walked down the hall into the kitchen that he remembered what he had planned yesterday. His lips pulled into a devious smirk that sent a shiver down Petunia's spine. She reacted by glaring at him and ordering him to take care of the bacon which he did happily.

"Once you've finished, go and wash your Uncle's car. You can only have a slice of bread after," she ordered vindictively. Harry merely nodded his head in response instead of arguing like he normally would have attempted. He was far too excited about the chance of finally getting away from the Dursley's, he highly doubted he would be able to eat anyway.

Frowning in confusion at his unusual response, Petunia walked up the stairs to wake up Dudley and Vernon. By the time she had come down again, Harry's unnatural behaviour was forgotten.

When Vernon and Dudley finally came downstairs both grumbling at having been woken so early the food was set out on the table and Harry was outside washing the car.

Harry knew that even though it was slightly early Vernon would still turn on the small TV they had in the kitchen. The man was incapable of eating without watching something. And sure enough he soon heard the dull tones of the news reporter and Vernon's loud complaints. Harry quickly dropped the sponge he had been using to wash the car into the large bucket of water at his side and quickly grabbed the old bag of Dudley's in which he kept his most treasured items; a few books, some clean clothes that were in quite good condition, and a fluffy blanket. According to the Dursley's, Harry had been found wrapped up in that blanket on their doorstep.

And Harry ran as fast as he could.

He didn't know how much time had passed but Harry was quickly getting tired. He had slowed down into a slow jog as he had turned the previous block. It had become clear that the Dursley's weren't running after him. They were either unaware or didn't care. Harry thought the second option was more likely. While the two males were dead to the world in the morning, Petunia always kept a sharp eye on him to make sure he was doing what he was supposed to.

Harry stopped to catch his breath and sat down on the side of the road. He looked around curiously and soon realised that he had no idea where he was. He knew he had turned into Magnolia Crescent two blocks ago which he accessed through a small alleyway on Wisteria Walk but he was now in unfamiliar territory. All he knew with certainty was that he was still in Little Whinging. As he sat, he couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing. He was utterly alone and completely lost.

How was he supposed to find an orphanage when he didn't even know where he was?

But he couldn't turn back now. If he went back he knew that the beatings would just get worse. Green eyes darkened in dertermination. No he wouldn't go back. He would rest for a while and then carry on. Eventually he would come upon an orphanage and if he didn't he was sure he could easily find a police officer who would undoubtedly take him to an orphanage.

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

Once again, he had a plan.

He rested his head upon his knees and wrapped his arms around his head.


Regulus Black was annoyed.

However, this wasn't an unusual occurrence.

Ever since he had become Lord Black at the young age of 21 and had to attend the Wizengamot meetings, annoyance became the most common emotion he felt. The Wizengamot was full of fools, corrupt politicians and Dumbledore fanatics. It wasn't advertised but it was commonly known that the Wizengamot was divided into three; dark, neutral and light. However after the defeat of The Dark Lord at the hands of Harry Potter, dark was seen synonymous to evil.

The Wizengamot turned into a joke. The so called light block became Dumbledore fanatics, somehow Potter defeating the Dark Lord was lost in translation to a Dumbledore victory. The neutral block ended up either joining Dumbledore's block or joined Fudge's block, and half of the Dark block; in fear of persecution, joined Fudge's block. The other half (whom Regulus considered fools) spread out, joining neither block yet trying to hide their dark alignment nonetheless. Regulus had chosen to join Fudge's block, a corrupt Politician was far better than a powerful Light one.

The reason Regulus was annoyed was because the Wizengamont had passed a law that declared 'all dark creatures must register at the Ministry' and failure to do so would mean a five year sentence in Azkaban. This foolishness was the reason he had joined the Dark Lord at only 16 years of age. What annoyed Regulus the most was the fact that the vote had been practically unanimous. The only noteworthy votes in disagreement, besides his own, had been the Greengrass, Zabini, Malfoy, Rowle, Rosier, Yaxley and Dolohov votes.

From a young age Regulus had admired Lord Voldemort and made it his ambition to become a Death Eater. He had kept photos and articles of the Dark Lord and his followers from newspapers and had hung them in his bedroom, during his childhood. When he had received the Dark Mark at the age of sixteen, his family had approved, wholeheartedly. Voldemort was seen as striving to achieve pure-blood supremacy over other wizards and Muggles. Even though his parents were never Death Eaters themselves, they had agreed with many of Lord Voldemort's beliefs.

Regulus ran a hand through is shoulder length black hair, lately he had found himself thinking more often than not of the Dark Lord.

He had to stop.

He released his wand from its holster, which was tied to his arm, in a graceful flick.

One silently cast tempus had him growling in frustration.

He was late for his meeting with Rosier.

Regulus Black was never late!


A loud crack echoed in the empty alleyway.

Regulus let out another growl as he stared at his surroundings. He had most definitely not intended to appear in this murky alley.

His destination had been a coffee shop on Wisteria Walk. A place where he and Evan Rosier met regularly. His best friends safety superseded even his hatred and contempt of muggles.

Regulus had helped Evan and his one year old daughter escape to Russia five years ago, after his wife Evelyn Rosier had been murdered brutally by Alastor Moody.

Evan was supposed to be dead.

Regulus had used a potion called the Imperius Potion which (like the Imperius curse) put the target under a trance, making them susceptible to outside influence. Regulus had used it on Edgar Bones after he had given him the Polyjuice Potion, making him look like Evan.

The fake Rosier had fallen to six Aurors and Moody making the story even more believable as Evan was rather infamous for being an formidable fighter.

As he walked out of the alley he soon realised that he hadn't landed far from his intended destination. He strode down the street now clothed in muggle clothes that he had transfigured his dark green robes into and let his thoughts wander.

He really shouldn't have been surprised that he had Apparated to the wrong destination.

Regulus had always been rather successful in everything he had set his mind to. For seven years at Hogwarts he had held top position in all his classes and had been the best seeker Slytherin had seen in a long while, which inevitably led him to being Slytherin's Quidditch Captain for his last three years at Hogwarts.

He had been his father's favourite and after Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor his mother's too. His cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa undoubtedly preferred him to Sirius and while Andromeda had gotten along better with Sirius, everyone knew she was a muggle lover so her opinion hadn't mattered. All Regulus knew was how to succeed so it had come a utter shock to him when he had first tried to apparate and had failed miserably. He had, had to take the test when he was 19!

His father had been amused and slightly shocked.

When he had finally passed the test his father had told him proudly, that only extraordinary powerful wizards or witches struggled with magical transportation. Regulus had argued by saying that he was perfectly capable of using a portkey to which his father had responded by saying that he had only used the Black portkey which was rather special. According to his father the House of Black had produced some of the most powerful wizards to have ever existed and they had, had similar problems with magical transportation. Thus the creation of the portkey.

Regulus was jolted out of his thoughts when he accidentally stepped on what, after close examination, appeared to be a bag.

The bag was lying next to a dark haired boy who appeared to be asleep.

For some reason that Regulus could not explain, he placed a hand gently on the boy's shoulder and shook him lightly in an effort to awaken him.

The boys eyes shot open.


Harry stared.

The man that stood in front of him seemed so out of place.

His shoulder length hair was immaculate as his clothes and his eyes a cold grey, that upon closer examination revealed to be blue-grey, gazed at him without condemnation.

"What are you?" Harry blurted out without thought, seconds later he slapped a hand over his mouth in horror. "I... I... I'm so sorry... I meant who are you?" he stuttered in apology. Harry needn't have worried for the man started to laugh.

"Well that's the first time, I've been asked that," he chuckled, clearly still amused.

"What made you ask that?" Regulus couldn't help but wonder. Did he not look muggle enough? The boy blushed.

"Erm... well... you kinda look too rich to live here," he rushed out quickly afraid of offending the man. The man just smirked in response.

"I'm Lord Regulus Black," he introduced himself. Harry's eyes widened. So he was rich then!

"I'm Harry Potter," he muttered in response. feeling slightly ashamed of how ordinary he was in comparison. To his surprise Lord Black's eyes widened in shock and he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'The Boy Who Lived.'

Regulus couldn't help but be relieved. For a moment there he had thought he was actually enjoying talking to a filthy muggle. But then again talking to The Boy Who Lived, enemy to dark wizards everywhere was hardly a better option. Just to confirm his fears he asked the boy his age.

"I'm six," the boy replied. "I'll be turning seven in July." he added quickly after seeing the diismayed look on Regulus' face and no doubt jumping to some conclusion as to why it was there.

Yes, it all added up, Regulus thought.

Dumbledore had told the Wizengamot, when questioned by Fudge on Potter's whereabouts, that he had placed him for safety with his muggle relatives. And Potter was supposed to be Calypso Rosier's age, who had been born two months before him at the end of May. And after attending all six birthday parties Regulus was more than sure that he knew his god-daughter's age.

"What are you doing sitting here, Potter?"

Damn his curiosity. He shouldn't have asked. It was all Rosier's fault. If the bastard hadn't named him godfather to his daughter he would have had no sympathy for the boy and would have walked on calmly, ignoring the existence of Harry Potter.

Damn you, Rosier!


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Thanks xx

DSW