Hello People this is my first attempt at writing after a very long break. Please enjoy and be kind. I do this for your enjoyment rude comments will be deleted and ignored.

Summary: What if there was more to the founders than anyone expected and what if it would drastically change the the magical community? A new power is about to be awoken and it's going to take a smarter, more cunning Harry to face it. Enemies will be made and alliances stuck. This isn't your typical Evil Harry story.

Harry had long suspected that Dumbledore was hiding things from him. In the graveyard something had felt off. No matter how many times Harry revisited the memory he couldn't shake the feeling that Voldemort had wanted to say something. Sighing Harry rolled up to his feet pushing his ratty blanket to the end of the bed. Sleep wasn't coming tonight. Fumbling for his glasses and stretching his sore back Harry kneeled at the side of the bed. The loose board makes a stubborn creek causing Harry to tense and listen for footsteps. Thankfully the 2 bottles of wine have insured that Uncle Vernon wouldn't be making any nightly visits. He pulls out the large black tome from the darkness within. The book glows eerily in the half light from the moon, a long winding, silver snake barely visible. Nobody knew Harry had a book like this and if he had his way nobody ever would. Slytherin might have been an evil wizard but the guy had thought of everything. Settling himself on the bed, Harry ran his hand over the book almost lovingly before hissing his standard greeting.

"Hello Hespur"

The little snake seems to come alive, slithering around the cover to flick his tongue at Harry's hand

.

"Greetingsss Masster Harry. Do you wish to write thiss evening?"

"Yes Hespur I must have a look over my notes. I'm close to the answer I'm sure of it."

The snake's head bobs in understanding before slithering off the book to form a single delicate, blood red feather. Harry sets the feather beside him and flips through the pages. Blood red scribbles decorate nearly every page. Smiling at the memory of finding this spell Harry recalls the moment of shock he had when he found out that Hespur could translate his written words into parseltongue insuring that nobody in that bloody school could read a word of it. One could never be to safe however so harry made sure that neither Ron nor Hermione had seen it. That had proved to be a good thing if the end of the year was anything to judge by. The pair or friends had become even more annoying. From Hermione nattering at him to eat more, study harder, follow the rules and Ron practically gluing himself to Harry's side it was hard to decide what was worse. It felt like his every move was being watched. Shaking his head laughing Harry admonished that's exactly what was happening. Dumbledore trusted Harry about as much as Harry trusted him. Surprisingly potions was the only class left unaffected by the old man's 'protection'.

Snape refused to allow Ron or Hermione to work with him. Something about Harry not being able to leech off others and hide behind his fame to solve everything. Stuck instead at the slytherin table with Malfoy and Blaise, Harry had finally been able to relax. Whatever the reason Harry had never felt more grateful to the bastard. Oddly enough Malfoy had mostly ignored Harry's presence instead focusing on the potions and ingredients for the class.

"Hespur I can't find the graveyard entry which page is it on?"

Beside him the quill glowed softly and the pages pulsed, automatically flipping to the right page. The entry was small but contained his only point of view from the graveyard. Once returned to the school and after the fiasco with Moody Harry had shut himself away in moaning murtles bathroom and recorded all he could remember of the Dark Lord. The man had been terrifying of course but if he looked past the fear and panic he had felt harry knew there was something more. After touching him, a touch that seemed to scorch the bones in his body, Voldemort had seemed almost ...hesitant. It made no sense though. What could Harry possibly have expressed to make the great moldy warts reluctant? Picking up his Hespur quill Harry scribbled down his memories from the dream tonight. The look in Voldemort's eyes, they seemed to burn for a moment with interest before the flash of reluctance and anger returned. Maybe he wasn't as defenseless as they thought? Could his mother's protection still be to much for Voldemort to touch or was it something else? Did the Dark Lord see something desirable in him. Harry shivered at the thought.

"Let's hope it's not that last one. I don't think I want to know what he would find desirable."

"Perhaps it is your magic master"

"My magic? What do you mean?"

"You have very sstrong magic Master it flowss bright and ssteady in your blood. If this wizard is as power hungry as you have mentioned then perhapss he hasss changed hiss mind."

"You can see my magic?"

"yes you are like looking at the ssun masster"

"So it's bright white then..figures. They've beat so much good magic into me I must look like a freaking light bulb." Sighing Harry flopped on the bed, resting his head on his hand as he looked off into the darkness of his room.

"It is not like that ball that glows when you push the muggle button. Your magic is more ssubtle. It movess around you but has yet to color."

"Has no color? Does that mean I'm not a light wizard?"

"Your magic iss sstil growing masster. Until you come of age it will not choose a path."

"Are you saying I could practice the dark arts without anyone knowing?"

A crash down the hall had Harry scrambling to his feet and rudely stuffing the quill in book and under his bed. The footsteps stumble, a thump coming from the wall directly outside his room. Locks rattle and fall on the floor with little care for the noise they're making. The door is pushed open and Dudley's ugly face appears.

"Well well you best be quiet potty. You wouldn't want to wake Vernon. At least if you come quietly tonight I'll make sure I stop before you bleed..too much that is."

Harry cursed under his breath but took a deep breath to help resign himself to his fate. Struggling would only make it worse and in the end Dudley was the better of his two tormentors. At least Dudley allowed him to shower afterwards. So much for a quiet night.