On a certain day at the Dursley's, young Harry Potter woke up with a headache. Grimacing, he touched his scar, and found it covered it blood. Remembering the particularly brutal bullying of last night, he sighed and began to wash it off.

As he cleaned himself of the dried blood, his weariness turned to anger. Why did he, a boy who did absolutely nothing to offend anyone, have to deal with this? It was manageable that he managed to scrape some food for himself, and that his cupboard could be locked from the inside. But the beatings? What did he ever do to warrant that?

Fuming, he didn't notice that his wound had opened up again, nor his right eye changed from its emerald green hue to crimson red. At first, he thought nothing of it. However, it didn't take long for him to notice the blood that was leaking out of his wound was now hovering in the air.

He gasped. Though he was six, common sense told him that when things that shouldn't fly just happened to float in the air, something was going on. He swiped his hand to the side and the blood followed the motion.

"Whoa," the boy whispered. He pushed his hand forward and swirled his finger around, the blood mimicking his motions. Taking a risk, he clenched his eyes tight and let more blood flow as he dug into the wound with a rock.

He whimpered at the pain, but it slowly subsided and when he opened his eyes, Harry found there was a lot more blood to work with. Testing something, he mimicked the motion of a chop with his hand.

"Ah!"

The resulting action caused the blood to suddenly cut through what was in the general direction of the chop - in this case, it was his table. It seemed to solidify, sharpen, cut, and destabilize all in a fraction of a second. harry blinked before he gave a quiet cheer. His happiness was short-lived, however, as he suddenly felt extremely tired. Instinctively, he touched his scar, and the blood returned to the wound, sealing it and the pain subsided, thought he exhaustion had not.

Feeling a sudden urge to drink some orange juice or eat a cookie, Harry stumbled out of the cupboard, slightly paler than before but with a satisfied look on his face. He thought maybe, just maybe, he could have some fun for once.

Professor McGonogall was stunned by what she had witnessed.

She had been doing a monthly check in Harry Potter, against Dumbledore's advice, and she witnessed Harry utilizing wandless magic.

That in itself was awe-inspiring for the professor, who knew that without the focus of wand, many underage wizards would end up causing calamnities. Potter, however, seemed to be controlling his blood with ease.

Blood.

She has never heard of such magic that relied on the blood of the wielder as its energy. No doubt it must have been a Dark Arts magic, but where in Merlin did Potter learn to do so?

She watched with fascination as Harry used his blood to float a ball near the other child and drop the sphere, them quickly returning the blood back to himself to seal the wound. The victim looked around in confusion and accused his friend of doing so, much to the latter's confusion.

And the boy was only eight.

"With his father's love of pranks and his mother's wisdom," she wondered, preparing to return to Hogwarts. "He is sure to do great things. Amusing, yes, but great."

She wondered if she should report this to Dumbledore, but decided against it. Her better judgement warned of ulterior motives, and she'd be damned if something were to happen to the boy.

"Alright, boy," hissed Vernon. "No funny stuff, understand? This is Dudley's special day, and if everything goes fine, we might even treat you a little on your birthday, though don't expect too much. Mess up, however, and I swear you'll spend your birthday in chains."

Harry nodded. He had gotten used to the threats by now, though he did make the effort to give a terrified facade in order to not provoke his uncle anymore. He must have satisfied Vernon, who grunted and let the boy enter the car.

At the zoo, while Dudley and his friends ran around looking at animals, Harry just sat in front of a snake.

"Wow, your life must really suck, huh?" he asked.

To his surprise, the snake roused up and nodded at him.

"You ... you can understand me?" Another nod.

"Do you miss your family?" At this, the snake jerked it's head to the side. Harry looked in that direction and saw that the snake was born in captivity.

"That must suck, being locked away your whole life. I mean, that's what I deal with too, but at least I get to run around sometimes. Is there anyway you can help?"

The snake looked at Harry and flicked its tongue before leaning its head close to the glass. Harry hesitatingly reached out and touched the glass, just where he would have met the snake. Unfortunately for him, the glass was between the two.

Thinking of this made Harry angry. He felt that it was wrong to lock away animals to be teased and made fun of, without any regard for their own feelings. He felt a hot feeling inside of him and decided to try something. He darted his eyes around to see if there was anyone looking, before taking out a razor and cutting into the flesh between his thumb and his index finger. With a supply of blood available now, he used it to cut a hole cleanly through the glass, just so it could let the snake out without being noticed.

Upon seeing this mode of freedom, the snake slithered out of its compound. "Thankssss," it hissed before silently slithering out of the area. Harry quickly replaced the cut portion and walked away from the section, awaiting the screams that would arise.

Overall, the day went rather well for Harry. No one could prove he was the culprit, so his uncle and aunt had no evidence against Harry. The result was Dudley got the scare of his life, while Harry enjoyed a nice evening in his cupboard, idly swirling blood around.

He would have found his gift weird, even horrifying, but then he thought of there possibilities. By now, he could manipulate the blood into objects, although he still ran the problem of getting extremely exhausted whenever he was finished.

When he fell asleep, he was surprised to see an older version of himself looking back at him.

"Hello, Harry," smiled Not-Harry. "It's nice to meet you."

Harry blinked. "Should I be panicking, shouting, or listening quietly?"

Not-Harry laughed. "Ah, I remember being young. You're free to do as you please, though I'd prefer if you listened."

"Go on, then."

"Right, well, put it simply ... bah, screw this cliched crap. I won't go into the whole "I'm you from the future" stuff, since I'm guessing you've figured it out by now." Not-Harry then proceeded to explain to Harry what would happen in the future.

"Wait, hold up," stated Harry, as Not-Harry was about to go into the events of the Battle of Hogwarts. "This whole time-travel thing ... didn't you say that you weren't allowed to meet up with your past self?"

Not-Harry sighed. "Yes, well, that's the usual case, but you'd be surprised at what can happen when circumstances align themselves. In this case, we've remedied the problem simply by creating a new universe."

"What?! And wait, who's we?"

"Death. You'd be surprised at the lengths she's willing to go to to please her master. And yeah, we decided simply to wipe away out universe and create yours. Before you say anything, though, I'd like you to understand this: a young boy, who is not even legally allowed to emancipate himself from his abusive guardians has the world's most treacherous sociopath set out to kill him. Over the course of many, many trials, he succeeds in banishing the murderer and avenge his parents' deaths. You'd think the world would give him a rest, don't you think? Hah, no. Albus Dumbledore, who I once thought to be the greatest man alive, took most of the credit - even while dead. Every rescue, every good deed I did, was portrayed under his name. Anything not credited to him was given to Ron. The person I was engaged to, Ginny, and her family - or well, most of it anyways; i still respect George, but that's beside the point - they used me as a means to achieve fame and prestige. I wasn't made aware of the fact that I was being given love potions on a daily basis until a friend was visiting and told me his suspicions. You have no idea how maddening it was, that I was yet to live as controlled as before. And then there were all the deaths ..."

At this Not-Harry faltered, and Harry did not press for details. "Well, Future-me, what exactly has changed?"

"Bah, I'm not even a future version of you, more like an AU version, but that's irrelevant. Well, for one, you have knowledge of what will happen in the future, so I heavily expect you to fix them. And another thing is the whole blood magic thing. Yeah," he stated, taking a sharp breath. "I don't know why, I don't really care, but it did the job. Everything's changed now, meaning that you can fix things."

Harry mulled all of this over. He was still 10 years old, and this was a lot for him to take in. "Say I believe you, and all this comes true. How will I know what decisions to make?"

"My memories will be merged with yours. Also, if further advice is needed, I'm sure Death will help."

Once Harry woke up, he blinked before giving a grin. "Oh man, it's good to be back."

'Now,' he wondered. 'If what I remember is correct, today is the day that the letters should start arriving. However, knowing that things probably changed cause fuck it, I'd expect a visitor. But who?'

As Harry was cooking breakfast, he heard the thundering voice of Petunia tremble with fury as she opened the door to a visitor.

"You!"

Quickly finishing up, Harry set breakfast at the table and peeked to find that Aunt Petunia was talking to an elderly woman in robes. His eyes widened as he saw who it was.

"Yes, Petunia. It is I. I am here to take young Harry to Hogwarts."

"Good riddance, too! You and your freakish ... kind, leaving us with a freak to look after! I was ready to kick the brat out if the house if you didn't pick him up."

"Now, Mrs. Dursley, we've had this discussion with Dumbledore before. Despite any ill-will towards the Potter's they-"

"Are still my kin," she sneered. "Tell me ... McGonagall, was it? You think kin means a single shit to me? This ... freak," she spat out. "Is the very reason my husband and I could not have our second child. No longer could we support another child, since he was foisted on us!"

McGonagall listened to this rant in silence and waited for her to finish. "If so, I trust you have no objections to him leaving now."

"Potter!" she screeched. "Pack your stuff and get out! I don't ever want to see you here again!"

Once Harry had left the house, he feigned curiously at McGonagall. "I assume you are a professor?"

"That is correct, yes. And we will be getting your stuff soon. However, I would like to ask you something."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I have seen it before, but would like to confirm it ... Can you use blood magic?"

Harry did not answer, instead he cut himself and swirled his blood around.

"Yes ... In that case, we may need to please a personal request to Ollivanders. And also, dear, I think it would be best if you did not tell anyone about this."

"Why not, Professor?"

"It is a rare gift, a symbol of dark magic and darker times. Many people would shun you for this, since they can't understand it themselves. However, you may, in your free time, come to my class when I am not teaching and I would be glad to help you refine your skill."

"Thank you, Professor. But um ... where will I stay?"

At this, McGonagall gave a pause before coming up with a solution. "How about ... you stay with me? It gets rather lonely in my house, and I could use the time to help you out." At this, Harry broke into a huge smile.

"Thank you!"

"So where are we going?" asked Harry, as McGonagall brought him to Diagon Alley, hiding under a cloak so he wouldn't be recognized.

"We're buying your stuff. However, we need to first get your money. And to do that, we'll be going to Gringotts." At this, Harry nodded and the two walked wordlessly to the bank.

'Hmm,' mulled over Harry. 'I remember that Dumbledore used to take funds out of my account for 'personal uses.' It'd be preferable to put an end to it as soon as possible.'

"May your enemies fall before you," stated McGonagall.

"And may your coffers flow with gold, professor. Tell me, what brings you here, with a child no less?" answered the teller.

"I am here to bring young Harry Potter to his family account."

"A Potter? Well in that case, do you have his key?" McGonagall searched for it, but was unable to find it. "Forgive this old witch, but I appear to have lost it."

"Not a problem, or at least, not a major inconvenience. I assume the boy is not afraid of blood?" At this, McGonagall gave a slight smirk. "Oh, I assure you, he is most comfortable around it."

Once Harry gave his finger to be pricked, blood dropped onto a cloth which suddenly changed color.

"Well, he is certainly a member of the Potter family," agreed the goblin. "Now, Master Pot-what in the name of Ragnuk is that?!" The goblin was startled once he saw Harry manipulate the blood back to him.

"Oh, sorry?" Harry apologized, uncertain of whether he had offended the teller. "It's just that, I wanted to seal this with as little blood lost as possible."

"A blood user, Professor McGonagall," breathed out the teller. "Even among non-human beings, beasts, and non-beings, it is quite a rare gift. You don't suppose he might have the blood of Morgana in him, do you?"

"Well, considering how only her descendants are capable of manipulating blood, I would think so. I am inclined to believe that would make him heir to the House of le Fay."

"It would appear so. And judging by how you keep eyeing the clock, I assume you are on official Hogwarts business?" At this, McGonagall stiffened. "Yes, Dumbledore asked me to retrieve something from Vault 713."

"We will send another goblin to attend to you, professor. I must deal with Master Potter privately." And at that, the teller led Harry into the vaults below.

"First, Master Potter," began the goblin. "I'd like to thank you for now interrupting my conversation with McGonagall. While I must apologize for taking so long to attend to you, you understand that she has a ... priority status when she is on official business."

"That's alright," forgave Harry. "Now, there's something I'd like to talk about, particularly with you and your boss."

"Oh? What business does an eleven year old child have with Ragnok?"

"I'd rather not say now, sir, before you take offense and shove me down the pits. While I am developing wandless blood magic, I'm not at the level to make a rope." At this, the teller laughed.

"What business do you have with me, Master Potter?"

"I'd like for you to investigate into Albus Dumbledore's trust account that has been draining my main account."

Ragnok's eyes narrowed at that. "I see. A goblin shall be dispatched immediately. Anything else?"

"What do you know of horcruxes?"

...

"So," breathed out Ragnok. "The Mad One has returned. And he's been so depraved as to create one of those ... things," he spat out.

"He unintentionally made one involving my scar. I don't suppose you can remove it without killing me?"

Ragnok snorted. "Please. Human souls are so fickle and fragile, all we need is a certain weapon and a team of highly skilled healers, though from what I've heard you can do with your blood, the latter isn't required. We can loan you a needle filled with Nundu pestilence, which can easily corrode the horcrux away, free of charge."

"Many thanks, my friend."

Mere seconds later, a needle appeared filled with completely with a clear liquid.

"They pestilence, is of course, highly diluted," explained Ragnok. "No fool would ever administer undiluted Nundu poison for any reason."

Harry stared at the needle in bewilderness before shrugging and plunging it into his scar.

His screams echoed through all of Gringotts for the next few minutes, terrifying those who were worried about their bank credit.

Once the ordeal was over, Harry was left hunched over on the floor gasping in pain.

"Didn't seem very pleasant," smirked Ragnok. This resulted in a light glare from Harry, who eventually stood up, although shakily.

"Now ... can you tell me what assets I have?"

"Well, you are the current heir of the le Fay fortune, as well as the heir of the Potter fortune. Additionally, upon research into your bloodline, it appears that you are heir to the Peverell fortune as well. This bloodline is shared with the Gaunt family, however due to their large history of debts as opposed to the excellent credit credit of the Potter bloodline, we entrust the fortune to you."

"Whoa ... and how much is in each?"

"Well, we disabled the trust fund, which was illegally opened if anything, and compensated you accordingly. The result is the Potter fortunes and the Peverell fortunes contain several hundred thousand galleons each. However, the Morgana fortune hold hundreds of millions, due to centuries of untouched interest. This is, of course, not including various other properties."

This caused Harry to blink. "Damn. You know what, I'll ask you about this later. I'd rather make a withdrawal for now."

"That sounded painful," remarked McGonagall once she met up with Harry again.

"Tell me about it," he muttered. "Nundu poison stings way more than I expected."

"And why," she demanded. "Would an eleven year old boy ever inject that into his self?"

At this point, Harry fell quiet, wondering if he should reveal the truth.

"Professor ... Can I tell you a secret?"

"I see."

McGonagall did not know how to respond to what Harry told her. By the time he had finished his tale, they had bought most of the stuff he needed for Hogwarts.

While what he said was logically plausible she still couldn't get over the fact that Dumbledore was such a manipulative bastard.

"Therefore," finished Harry. "I'd like for you to please keep this a secret from Dumbledore."

"Of course. Merlin knows what madness the man would do to get fame, if what you said was right."

By now, the pair had entered Ollivanders. "Harry," instructed McGonagall. ""You go on ahead. I'll go get you Hedwig as well as think of a way to deal with Albus."

Just as she left, Ollivander showed up. "Ah, Potter. I trust you are here for your wand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hmm ... strange. For some reason, something seems off. Mind telling me something about yourself, perhaps it would hp me think of a want for you."

"Well, I can control blood.". At this Ollivanders blinked.

"A descendant of Morgana, her heir no less. This calls for something unique."

...

"11 inches, holly, feather of a phoenix as the core, adorned with tooth of a vampire. As you use the tip to open up your flesh, it enhances itself as well by absorbing a little blood."

Harry took the wand, the third of which he had tried out today and nicked his arm. To his surprise, the blood that would normally have flowed down his arm was drained by the wand. He felt a massive rush of power that sent his heart racing, and when he gave the wand a swing, he destroyed the desk. "Sorry, sir," he apologized.

"It's quite alright, although ... curious."

Despite knowing what Ollivander was going to say, Harry decided to play long. "What's curious, sir?"

"I remember every wand I've made, and it just so happens that the phoenix whose feather resides in your wand happened to give another. However, seeing what the wielder of the wand did - extraordinarily terribly yet great things - I decided to add in the tooth of the vampire. Many people do not know this, Harry, but vampire fangs are extremely picky, a testament to the careful meals of their owners. By doing this, I had hoped, rather selfishly if I may add, that perhaps no one would be able to wield it the wand. And yet ... here you are.

"You are destined for great things, Harry. There has not been a blood user in centuries, especially not in Britain. I hope you can stay in the light, unlike ... him."

Harry nodded mutely, and paid Ollivander, giving his thanks in the process, and met up with McGonagall soon after, who had Hedwig by her side.

"It's strange," McGonagall stated. "She looked at me expectantly as if she was asking for me to take her away from Eeylops. At this Harry chuckled. "Yes, she does that sometimes."

"Now, child," she continued. "You have a full month before Hogwarts begins. I pray you will make good use of this time."

"I will, Professor. I refuse to let so many people die like before. And I refuse to make the mistakes from the past life."

"Oh, and one last thing, Potter."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall."

"Happy birthday."

During the month between his birthday and Hogwarts, Harry studied his books tremendously as well as practicing on his magic. He retained all knowledge as well as skill from his past life and worked ceaselessly to maintain it. McGonagall, for her part, allowed him to practice, although she was stunned when she saw him produce a fully-developed Patronus, as well as Apparate. The result was she bought him books on topics that he didn't know so much on: Potions, Creatures, and Transfiguration.

When the day arrived, McGonagall took Harry aside just before he entered Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

"Please stay safe," she urged. "I know that I will see you in Hogwarts, but you are the closest thing to a child to me. I've lost my husband before, I can't afford to lose you."

Harry hugged her back to comfort her. "I know, Professor. But, as they say ... I'm my father's son." With this, he waved her goodbye and went into the platform.

'Why on earth did Molly just state the existence of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?' he mused. 'That must be against the Statue of Secrecy.'

As he settled into his his compartment, a person walked up to him.

"Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is filled with idiots."

He looked up, and suppressed a gasp when he saw Hermione.

Back before this timeline, she had been, unknown to anyone until Harry broke it, been under the Imperius Curse by Ron. However, by the time she had broken out of it, she was emotionally fragmented and was left a hollow shell of her former self due to her inability to distinguish what was real or not anymore.

Despite his initial hesitation, he decided to become friends with her once more, seeing that she had done no real harm to him before.

"My name is Hermione Granger, what's yours?"

"Harry Potter." At this, Hermione's eyes widened.

"It's really you!"

"Yes."

Harry gave an inward smile as Hermione talked tirelessly with him, to which he answered once she stopped to breathe.

"Sorry, is anyone sitting here?" asked someone.

Harry looked at the speaker, who was a girl he recognized from Slytherin before but didn't know who. "Go ahead."

Unlike Hermione, the girl was more reserved and decided to immerse herself in a book instead of talking.

"My name is Hermione Granger, what's yours?"

"Daphne Greengrass. And you?"

Harry remembered now. She was the sister-in-law of Draco after the whole ordeal with Voldemort was over, aunt of Scorpius.

"Harry Potter."

Her eyes widened slightly but returned to normal almost instantly, causing Harry to smirk slightly. 'I can see why she was put in Slytherin.'

Just then, someone opened up the carraige.

"Does anyone know where Harry Potter is?"