AN: HI GUYS

After a while of ff lurking, I decided to give writing a shot, so here it is! If it seems bad, then it probably is, because this is my first time writing a story. I'll try and update as frequently as I can, and I hope you like it! This fic will assume that you have read all of the Harry Potter books, and know the magical world at least somewhat, so I will not be giving basic explanations. Some of the cliches that show up in other fanfics have been used so extensively that some people perceive them to be canon, and I might skirt away from some, so just try and keep an open mind while reading.

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CHAPTER ONE: THE FALL OF A SHADOW

The idea that magical power correlated positively with intelligence was incredibly short-sighted in the opinion of Peter Pettigrew.

While it was true that dueling capacity required the intelligence to know when to attack, when to defend, and what spells to use, transfiguration required an understanding of geometry and physics at advanced levels, and arithmancy and ancient runes required significant intelligence to understand, none of these had anything to do with raw magical power. Power was simply strength, and Peter thought it should be treated that way.

Any Muggle athlete was not assumed to be intelligent simply because of his or her physique. So why was it that James Potter and his group of glory-hounds got all the praise from the professors simply because they were more powerful than him. They were not better than him; he was more intelligent than their group of losers. He simply lacked the magical power to follow through with his intelligence. Anything that he did, he did the hard way, while James, Sirius, and Remus could just rely on brute force to get through it. The fact that he, one of the weakest wizards of his time, was able to transform into an animal was an indication of how intelligent he was. But no one would see it that way. His intelligence was meaningless to the magical community; he lacked the power to do great things with his intelligence.

It wasn't fair that they were respected members of the wizarding elite and he wasn't. In the Muggle world, he would be respected while the three of them wouldn't have even gotten into uni. As a half-blood, Peter had considered leaving the wizarding world behind multiple times, but the fact that magic was so interesting compelled him to stay. But that didn't mean he liked his supposed friends. They had all the glory. Sirius Black, the black sheep of the Black family, whose stupidity was only outmatched by his raw magical power. Remus Lupin, the shy intelligent werewolf, the "only one" who could outsmart Lily Evans. And the worst of all was James Potter, the loud-mouthed Gryffindor who couldn't help but blurt out whatever pathetic thought came into his mind.

Peter hated them all.

But he didn't let it show. If he did, he'd be treated like Severus Snape. He pretended to be friends with the three people he hated the most simply for revenge. He knew that it did not take much to kill or seriously injure; for all the magic they had, the three were so incredibly stupid. Yes, even Remus, while having a small modicum for parroting back whatever the idiotic professors said, could not handle Peter's true intelligence. But few could.

He held back in class, of course, not wanting the professors to see the independent research he had been doing in each of their fields. Permanent transfiguration, a topic only covered in its basics in NEWT level, he had grasped in his third year. Enchantments and gemstones that could serve functions, ideas post-Newt level in charms, he had finished studying by fourth year. And from there, he began to dabble in the dark.

Arcane rituals, black-listed potions, it all culminated into the study of the unforgivables. At first, Peter wasn't sure why these three spells were unforgivable; after all, other spells could do the exact same thing. But Peter quickly learned that this wasn't the case; no spell could do the exact same thing as an unforgivable. Peter figured out that a person had three parts: a body, a mind, and a soul. Most spells only affected the body and the physical space. A few affected the mind, occlumency being one example. But the unforgivables, these were spells that affected the soul.

The Imperius curse gives temporary power over the soul, which controlled the mind and therefore the body; thus usage of the Imperius curse affects the mind and body. This means that thoughts planted into the mind during the Imperius curse actually stay within the mind, which is what makes the spell so dangerous. The Cruciatus curse twists the connection between soul and mind, creating immense mental pain without bodily harm. And of course, the killing curse, the worst of them all. The killing curse severed the connection between soul and mind.

The unforgivables were only three spells of many that could affect the soul, and soul magic did not require any magical core at all, and incantations were useless. Rather, soul magic relied sheerly on discipline and will-power. There were very few masters of soul magic alive in the world, and the only accessible one to Peter was the Dark Lord himself. And Peter had no choice if he wished to learn, wished to gain power.

The Dark Lord was the only one who truly understood him, and Peter found him to be a tactical and magical genius. He quickly rose the ranks among the Death Eaters to be the Dark Lord's most faithful spy; of course, none of the other Death Eaters could know that he was on their side. And joining the Dark Lord gave him something he had been dreaming about his whole life: revenge.

It started with simple raids on the Muggles that bullied him in his childhood. He enjoyed their tortured screams as they burned to death. Next came Edgar and Josephine Bones, his ex-girlfriend and her current husband and the reason for their break-up. But tonight, his most important targets would go down. The Potters.

But he didn't just want to kill them. His revenge had to be more elegant. He wished to take away every single thing they held dear until they finally begged for death, and only he would give it to them. Fortunately, the Dark Lord was willing to help with this, all because of a prophecy that said apparently one of James's brats was going to defeat the Dark Lord. Hah, like that could happen.

Peter actually felt bad about what was going to happen to Harry, he could care less about Nathan. He had always felt a connection to Harry; ever since Harry was born, he knew that Harry was a fellow intellectual like himself. Nathan cried and cried, Harry simply looked at the world with wonder. Ah, youthful innocence. Too bad Harry was going to have to die to further his cause.

And today, the raid would finally happen. Peter had it all planned out; first he'd get James and Lily out of the house, then the Dark Lord would kill the boys, after which he would frame James for their death. It really was an ingenious plan; no one but Peter knew that James and Lily were going out that night, and he was sure that he could make it look like James committed the crime. After that, he would have James put into Azkaban, and slowly drained of his soul through the Dementor's kiss.

And it would all happen today, on this stormy Halloween evening. Peter figured that it must have been a sign for the chaos about to occur.

Peter's reverie was interrupted by a loud crack heard right behind him. It was time.

The dark lord climbed up the staircase slowly, savoring each step. It wasn't just the fact that he was about to break the prophecy and destroy all hope the light had, but the simple fact that he was in the home of James and Lily Potter, and was taking out the ultimate punishment in killing the sons and heirs of both families just gave him a vindictive feeling of pleasure, especially considering the fact that they had denied his invitation to join the Death Eaters. And even if they managed to pull together from this incident, they would never feel safe, always wary.

Withdrawing his wand, he entered the nursery of the Potter Manor, and immediately noticed the two small children. It was extremely easy to tell them apart, as Nathan was chubbier and had light brown hair, while Harry was almost skinnier with raven-black hair and striking green eyes. It would be a shame to kill these two future lords, but it was for the Greater Good, as Dumbledore so eloquently put it. Even if it was a shame, it didn't change the fact that he would take immense pleasure at what he was about to do. The feeling of torture, pain, and death inflicted upon another set the dark lord's mangled soul alight; he had become addicted to the dark.

"I suppose that this would be the end of you two. Shame, the two of you could have been powerful lieutenants; in fact I could see one of you becoming my right hand." he said.

Harry gave an ever-so-slight shake of the head, as if he knew what was about to happen, yet his posture was completely still. Meanwhile, Nathan had still not grasped the gravity of the situation, and was poking Harry repeatedly in the shoulder and gesturing about.

Harry stared directly into Voldemort's eyes, with such a powerful glare that even the Dark Lord was uncomfortable. The eyes seemed so pervasive, so judging, they looked as if they belonged on a hardened war veteran, not a child.

"I'm sorry that it has to be this way." the dark lord continued, focusing on Nathan instead. Nathan was the quintessential Voldemort follower, in baby form of course. He seemed strong magically, yet proud, arrogant, and lacking in the intelligence department, all traits that James carried as well. But Harry, like Peter, had the potential to be so much more.

It truly was a shame.

Without even a single word, the dark lord nonchalantly waved his wand at the two boys, shooting out a beam of bright green light. The killing curse was unmistakeable, even without the telltale incantation.

Immediately the beam struck Harry, merely an inch below his admittedly long hair, right in the center of his forehead. And immediately Voldemort knew that something was not right.

The eyes, Harry's eyes, they closed after the curse hit him, and Voldemort knew that this had never happened before. The eyes were always open, soulless with a hollow expression, before the body eventually failed. The eyes never closed, until now.

A split-second later, the eyes opened again, eyes the same shade of green as the killing curse. But Voldemort was not focused on the eyes; for at the same time, a piercing scream erupted from Harry's mouth as it seemed like pure energy was being emitted by the young wizard. Energy that the Dark Lord had never felt before, energy that he wished he had. It felt like everything was leaving the body of the green-eyed wizard, like a purge of sorts. Voldemort was equally terrified as he was intrigued. But the energy was affecting him, he could feel it. It felt like his soul was being twisted, tortured, mutilated. He was put under the pain of a thousand Crucio's until finally, a blissful killing curse guided him to the next life.

And just like that, Harry's eyes shut. All that remained of the endeavor was the scar on Harry's forehead.

AN: And that's a wrap. So, what did you think? Wrong Boy-Who-Lived, Squib Harry, Cliched, I know. Part of the reason that I wanted to write this type of genre is that I've seen so many fics that weren't the best, which gives cliches like this a bad name.

PLEASE REVIEW! :D