Summary: At six years old Harry Potter becomes the heir to a Somali Warlord. This story follows his life from six to sixteen years of age as he grows up in a country ripped apart by war before being dragged into the one waged against Voldemort. AU – eventual slash HPDM – dark!Harry

Disclaimer: If I owned the HP universe, I would currently be vacationing in Fiji with Tom Felton. Sadly, I am not but a poor student that worships JK Rowling.

Parts of this chapter were inspired by the book A Long Way Gone by Ismael Beah.

A/N: Cookies and many thanks to Narcoleptic86 for telling me about the different versions of AK-47s used.

WARNING: This is a bloody chapter involving ruthless, graphic killing and rape. This chapter is meant to show the brutality that these groups inflict. If you have a weak stomach I strongly suggest you skip the third section of this chapter.

"Somali"
"Arabic"
'Thoughts'
//Parseltongue//

Timeline

1979 – Idris Nasri Abri becomes a Warlord in Mogadishu.
1985 – Idris' family is killed.
1986 – Revolution begins in Somalia; Harry leaves Little Whinging with Idris.
1989 – President Mohamed Siad Barre orders a civilian massacre in Mogadishu.
1991 – Barre overthrown; revolution ends; civil war begins.
1992 – Operation Restore Hope launched.
1993 – Voldemort regains his body via an enchanted journal; Ma-alinti Rangers (the Battle of Mogadishu)
1996 – Harry goes to Hogwarts.

January 1988

It had been several long weeks of digging, chopping wood and building. The recruits had been instructed to erect a series of buildings on the far side of the compound. They did not know why but at this point they had learned that questions could be dangerous to their health. To make the task even more difficult the trainers had them carrying all their ammunition while they worked. Their guns were slung across their backs and rounds of bullets hung off of them like sashes. The strings kept falling off of Harry's thin shoulders and he was constantly fighting to keep them on.

The days were getting hotter as they made their way into the summer months. It was January and only the beginning of the hottest season. Harry no longer burnt under the long hours underneath the sun; his skin had developed a deep brown color courtesy of his olive tone, something he was grateful for since he no longer stuck out in the crowd. He still looked nothing like his deep chocolate aabbe, but he did somewhat resemble those of Arabic decent.

Despite physically fitting in better, the other recruits and soldiers avoided him. He found himself alone for most of the tasks assigned. Whether he was chopping wood or raising walls he was alone, which suited him just fine. He didn't particularly want to be around all of the other sniveling children.

One particular afternoon found Harry digging holes for a new building when his ears perked up at the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind. Nobody had dared bother him since the last attack in the woods but he couldn't help but be particularly wary.

"Little Master, the Warlord requests your presence at the sand pit."

Harry turned slowly and took in the group of three soldiers. He raised an eyebrow at the unusual request but followed them all the same. It wouldn't do to keep his aabbe waiting.

The soldiers flanked him as they made their way across the compound. Harry couldn't help but wonder at the dearth of people. Usually the infirmary had at least one or two people bustling around it and the courtyard always had a group of soldiers, whether they were training or talking amongst themselves.

As they rounded the trees and made their way to the far side of the sand pit Harry became suspicious. He stopped and turned to the first soldier to ask him where they were going only to be met with the butt of a gun. Pain lanced through his head as the gun made contact with his temple and knocked him to the ground. He looked up and was momentarily shocked by the vicious glares aimed his way.

"You are not welcome here, Iblis," the first man sneered. "You will not poison the mind of our Warlord with your magic anymore!"

Harry gasped in pain when a foot landed in his side. He rolled out of the way of another kick and scrambled to his feet, eyes darting around frantically looking for a way out. He was much smaller than all of these men and there were three of him. He didn't stand a chance without some sort of cover.

"Leave, Iblis! Go back to the depths of Hell from whence you came," one of the soldiers growled as he stepped forward, his fist cocked back for a swing.

Harry dove away from the punch, rolling on the ground towards the crop of trees ten feet away. He barely registered the click of the guns being loaded, too intent on reaching one of the trunks to take cover, but he did feel the bullet that took a chunk out of his thigh. He gasped out in pain and stumbled, clawing at the ground. Another bullet grazed his side before he was able to dive behind the thick trunk of a mahogany tree.

The sound of bullets echoed in the clearing and Harry's mind went into overdrive. He ripped the gun from his back and laid flat on the ground, using it to brace himself against the kickback. He peered around the trunk at the soldiers who were firing haphazardly into the trees and aimed carefully at the one closest to him. He knew he couldn't afford to miss; they would knew where he was the minute he started firing.

He did his best to calm his frantically beating heart before pulling the trigger. The first man's torso was riddled with several bullets before he shifted to shoot at the next one. He only got a couple shots off on the second man before the soldier was felled from behind. Harry's eyes widened and he prayed that whomever had joined the fight was on his side. He wasn't sure he could stand up against more of them.

The last man's legs buckled out from under him before Harry could see the faces of the other attackers. At the front of the group was Mujahid and he couldn't help but sigh in relief. Doing his best to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, he braced himself against the tree to pull himself up to his feet. He could feel the blood running down his leg and soaking his trainers. He held his gun in his hands, finger on the trigger and ready to fire in case of a new threat as he limped his way back towards the sandpit.

Harry could see Mujahid's eyes widen when he came into sight and he carefully kept his face neutral as he limped over to the man, doing his best to ignore the burning stabs of pain emanating from his thigh and torso. Mujahid quickly made his way over to Harry's side and bent down to look at his leg. He ripped off part of his shirt and wrapped it around the wound tightly to staunch the bleeding. He stood and firmly wrapped another piece of his shirt around the Harry's torso before turning to the group.

"What in the FUCK is going on here?!" Mujahid barked, eyes darting between the injured and dead soldiers on the ground and the heir standing before him, ignoring the soldier translating his question.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath to prepare himself to respond but was interrupted by one of the attackers.

"We were saving the Warlord from the clutches of this..." the man was cut off by a swift kick to his ribs, knocking him from his sitting position and back onto the ground.

"I don't care what you have to say," Mujahid barked, unheeding of the language barrier. He turned back to Harry before demanding, "What happened here!"

"That is what I would like to know," a smooth, deep voice interrupted. The men turned to see a very angry Warlord.

Harry couldn't help the relief that flooded his body at the appearance of his aabbe. He finally allowed the gun to slip from his fingers, landing on the ground at his feet. Idris turned at the sound and quickly walked up to Harry, concern etched across his face.

Idris cupped his chin and lifted his face to look him in the eyes. "Are you all right, my son?" he asked, slipping into English for privacy. None of the soldiers were educated enough to have learned the language of business.

Harry panted, unable to draw a deep breath without pain searing through his torso. "I think so, Father. I got hit twice, once in the leg and once in the side. They only nicked though."

"Good," Idris said, his relief obvious in his voice. "We will get you to the infirmary soon, once we figure out what happened."

Harry nodded. "They kept calling me Iblis, whatever that is..." he trailed off, unable to suppress a flinch from the thundercloud that made its way across his aabbe's face. He struggled to keep his breathing even as the adrenaline wore out. The pain was intense, but he didn't want to show his weakness in front of the guards.

Idris' face softened at his son's reaction. "I am not angry with you, child. You did well today. Remember that." He brushed Harry's cheek with his knuckles in a rare show of affection.

Harry nodded, "Yes, father."

Idris spared Harry a small smile before turning back to the group and growled, "What happened here?"

The silence was deafening. No one wanted to cross the angry Warlord. Harry watched his aabbe survey the group, several of the soldiers shrinking back trying to make themselves inconspicuous. Finally Idris stopped and looked down at the three soldiers on the ground. The first one Harry shot was dead, having succumbed to shock several minutes prior. The second one was well on his way to death while the third appeared to only sustain minor injuries.

After sneering at the dead and half-dead men Idris turned to the relatively uninjured one. "Speak," he ordered, his voice carrying a razor sharp edge.

The man prostrated himself at his Warlord's feet, "Have mercy, my Lord. We were trying to free you from the Iblis' clutches. He has poisoned you with his magic, worming his way into your favour..."

"Enough!" Idris barked. "Do you think so little of me that I would not be able to discern truth from fiction?" His voice was sharp, eliciting a whimper from the man at his feet.

The man flinched and cried, "No, my Lord."

Idris sneered, "Stop your sniveling. Are there any others who share your misguided view? Answer me and I may save your miserable life."

The soldier shivered and began babbling, listing fifteen names before continuing to beg for his life. A couple of the men in the group began shifting uncomfortably, having been named by the pathetic man sprawled on the ground.

Idris turned to Mujahid, "Take all the men this scum listed to the courtyard. Gather all those in the compound to witness their execution. Everyone will know that such behavior will not be tolerated."

Mujahid bowed, "It shall be done, Warlord."

Idris nodded and turned to the sniveling man at his feet. He sneered and pulled out a handgun.

The man's eyes widened, "B-but you said..."

"I know what I said," Idris snarled. "But you attacked my son and heir. Did you really think that you'd get away with that?" He aimed at the man's head and pulled the trigger, the shot echoing through the clearing. He turned to the other man and put his gun away after seeing that he had already died.

Harry watched the scene, taking a morbid sort of satisfaction from their punishment. His aabbe turned to him and swept him up into his arms, carrying him to the infirmary. He allowed himself to tuck his head into his aabbe's neck, needing the comfort it provided. He couldn't keep the small smile that curled at his lips. The treacherous scum would get what they deserved. His aabbe had seen to that.

February 1988

Idris sat at his desk and massaged his temples with the tips of his fingers in attempt to stave off yet another headache. He had come to love his son dearly in the last year and a half but he couldn't believe the amount of trouble he seemed to draw to himself! It was like he was a veritable magnet for danger. He was very glad he had decided to put him through the militia training. At least he'd be able to protect himself from the problems he seemed to attract.

Idris couldn't help but be frustrated with himself. He should have foreseen the reaction of some of his guards. He should have known that some of the people in the compound would react badly to any show of magic but at least something good came out of it. He had spent the last several weeks weeding out guards, maids, doctors, anyone in the compound who had a distinctly negative reaction to magic after the attack on his son. He couldn't afford to have such people around if he was to successfully create a safe magical community; he couldn't have the magicians come to him for safety only to be killed off by his own people. Just under a quarter of his staff now resided in the trenches. He couldn't allow them to stay but neither could he allow them to leave; he couldn't risk any of them telling someone outside the compound anything his son could do.

A knock at the door distracted him from his thoughts and he sat up straighter before telling the person to enter. Mujahid swept into the room with all of his usual grace, stalking up to the desk and bowing to him before settling into a chair.

"So," Idris began, leaning forward in his seat and planting his elbows on his desk. "The militia training should be nearly complete, correct?"

Mujahid nodded, "Yes, Warlord. The standard end-of-training raid will occur in two weeks. We should be able to determine where the recruits should be placed within our forces and will weed out those who are unworthy."

Idris nodded, "Good. And Nuri?"

"He has progressed well, surpassing all expectations we have placed on him. The only way we can challenge him now is by putting him up against the trainers in hand-to-hand combat. Other than that, the exercises have become too easy for him," Mujahid said, repressing his irritation. It irked him that the tiny heir had bested everything he had thrown at him.

"Excellent," Idris said as he leaned back into his chair. "And how are his relations with the other recruits?"

"He has proved himself to be as ruthless as you desire him to be and has certainly gotten over his aversion to killing," Mujahid mused to himself.

Idris looked at him, his brows furrowed, "What do you mean?"

Mujahid looked up at the Warlord, "From what I've gathered, recently one of the recruits insulted you within the Nuri's earshot."

Idris interrupted him before he could continue, "I expect that the scum has been dealt with?"

Mujahid nodded, "Indeed he has, and by the Nuri's own hand."

"Oh?"

"As soon as he heard the insult, he was all over the scum. The recruit was badly beaten before Nuri finally shot him in the head. I only saw the end of the exchange. Nuri stood above the body and just smiled," Mujahid said, barely repressing a shudder as he remembered the malicious smirk that had curled the boy's lips. It made the child look inhuman and downright terrifying despite his age.

Idris couldn't help but smile, unaware of how similar it was to the one Nuri had worn the day before, "Good. I believe he is ready. That will be all."

Mujahid nodded and quickly left the room. Despite all he had seen and done he couldn't stop the fear that the Warlord, and now his heir, invoked.

Harry was excited. It was the end of his training and they were taking all of the recruits on a raid. The day before his aabbe had given him an AR-15 to celebrate and he spent most of the previous night practicing with it. He had taken an interest in marksmanship and was always frustrated by the inaccuracy of the AK-47s they were provided with. The AR-15 was far lighter than the AK-47 and had less kick back, both important for a child Harry's size. The major problem was that it was more difficult to care for an AR-15 than an AK-47 which which had been designed to pass through hell unscathed. It was also much more expensive.

Harry stood in formation with the rest of the recruits waiting for the trainers to come and debrief them. The other children were restless and chatted amongst themselves, whispering as if no one could hear them. He sneered in distaste. As the trainers came into view Harry schooled his face, showing none of his disgust for the fodder around him.

The trainers lined up in front of the group and one stepped forward to address them. "Today will be your final test. We will be attacking Bu'eeolei. The objective is to collect any food and supplies stored there, collect the villagers and kill all the rebels. Attempt to leave the villagers alive since they may be of some use to us."

The recruits were restless with anticipation. A quiet murmuring could be heard at the back but it was quickly silenced by a well placed glare.

The trainer paused looking around at the group before continuing, "There is one road that leads into the village and it is backed by the river Uebi Scebeli. You will be split into two groups, one attacking from the road and the other coming from the forest to the side. The ones attacking from the road will be used as a diversion so that the rebels don't notice the other group. For those coming from the forest, keep an eye on the river. We do not want any of them escaping by the boats moored there."

The trainer stepped back only to be replaced by another who split them into two groups. Harry was happy when he was placed with the group attacking from the forest. He did not particularly like straight on confrontation, preferring to strike from hidden places. He liked what his aabbe called guerilla warfare.

Harry stood back from the other recruits who lined up to pick up their equipment. His gun had already been slung across his back and he had numerous clips stored on a bandolier and in his many pockets. Even the clips of the AR-15 were lighter meaning that he could carry far more of them, yet another benefit. Mujahid had also shown him how to tape the clips together so that when he needed to reload all he had to do was flip it over. Several of the children were obviously angry about his 'special treatment, but they were too scared to do anything that could be construed as a challenge to the heir.

Harry couldn't help but sneer when the trainers began handing out pills and lining the recruits up to snort brown brown. His aabbe made it clear that no heir of his would be reliant on stimulants. He had been upset at first but his aabbe explained that he was above the militia and had no need for the narcotics that the weak required. He was stronger so he didn't need the chemicals that the weak required to do their job.

The trainers didn't bother lining the recruits back up into formation as they were all too restless to sit still. Instead they were all directed to the trucks waiting for them and they all scrambled up into the back. Far fewer people got into the truck Harry chose and he was given the best spot in the bed, the others not wanting to challenge or be anywhere near him. He was standing behind the heavy artillery mounted into the bed of the truck.

Soon the sounds of engines revving filled the courtyard and the trucks took off driving over the grounds until they reached the gates. They drove through the city and the children laughed at the people in the streets running for cover at the sight of them. Harry could see the other recruits getting jumpy, their fingers twitching towards their triggers as if they wanted to shoot the citizens, and leveled a glare at them. His aabbe had emphasized numerous times about how important the populace is to their power base. It wouldn't do to antagonize them.

Soon the city gave way to countryside and Harry was practically bouncing where he stood in anticipation. After thirty minutes, but felt like hours, the trucks slowed and stopped before rounding a bend that disappeared behind a copse of trees. One of the trainers in a truck in front of them made a signal and all of the recruits assigned to the woods jumped out of the trucks.

A trainer rounded them together before speaking to them, "We will be going through these woods. On the other side of the trees is the village. Use the trees as cover. We will be coming around the back to sandwich the soldiers guarding the road. Watch the river so we are not the ones surrounded."

The soldiers made their way into the copse as the trucks drove off, darting through the trees as they ran in the direction of the village. The faster boys pulled ahead as gun shots rang out to the right and ahead of them. Harry slid behind a crop of bush and peered out at the town under siege. Villagers were running around frantically, most hiding out in their houses while an unlucky few made their way into the forest they were inhabiting. Harry could see large group of rebels was running from the river to what he expected was the entrance to the town.

Harry slinked out from behind the bush and made his way into the town using the buildings as cover. Sliding around the back of one of them, he crouched and peered around the edge of the wall. The trucks they had arrived in were parked haphazardly around the entrance to the village. Harry could see all of their soldiers using the trucks as cover as they fired indiscriminately towards the rebels. He looked at all of the bodies already littering the road and wondered how long it took them to figure out to use the vehicles for protection. He couldn't help but roll his eyes when he saw several of the older recruits on the heavy artillery. It was a waste of ammunition to give such high powered guns to children who couldn't hit the broad side of a barn!

Shaking his head Harry lifted his AR-15 and took aim at the nearest rebel to him. He let a smile curl his lips as he watched the bullet rip through the man's head and quickly aimed for the one next to him. Several rebels had fallen before the rest of them realized that they had been surrounded. Harry could see the panic rippling through them, tearing their ranks apart and making them easy targets.

Harry couldn't help but flinch when he heard a shot come from behind. He whipped around and saw more rebels charging into the fight. He braced himself and took aim, downing several of them before one finally reached him. He yanked out his knife and stabbed the man in the stomach, twisting it up as far as he could. He let the man go and watched him fall to the ground at his feet, painting his trainers red.

Looking up, Harry saw that most of the rebels had been killed and he turned to join a group of soldiers making their way into the town. He followed them into the first house and watched them pull out a woman and her two children from the corner. Two of the men held the children as another threw the woman to the ground. The man knelt over her and ripped the guntiino off of her body. She thrashed against him, scratching at his face and kicking his legs. Harry jumped forward and grabbed one of the woman's flailing arms using his whole body weight to pin it to the ground. Another recruit joined him holding down her other arm. The soldier nodded to them before focusing back on his task.

Harry looked on dispassionately as the man yanked her legs apart and ripped off her slip. Her screams grew louder as he opened his fly and buried himself into her in one harsh thrust. Harry watched in fascination as blood started dripping from between the woman's legs as her screams grew louder.

He continued to hold her arms down as each of the soldiers took their turn, slapping her to consciousness whenever she would pass out from the pain. When the men were finally done they bodily dragged her from the house and threw her into the road with the rest of the villagers. Her children were hauled out of the house behind her, joining the group of people congregated in the road.

Harry stood guard over the villagers, finger twitchy on his trigger. He wanted to blast the glares from the men's faces. They had no right to look at him in such a manner. His eyes scanned the group and he saw that several of the soldiers had sat on the corpses of the rebels and villagers. He thought it rather morbid, but it looked comfortable all the same.

Once all the villagers and the few rebels left were rounded up, one of the soldiers stepped forward to speak.

"We have chosen to liberate your village from these rebels and those that are worthy will be given the honor of serving our Lord, Idris Nasri Abri, in his army. On your feet!" the soldier barked.

Harry watched as the soldiers went through and separated the villagers into three groups. One group was made up of primarily boys that looked to be somewhere between 10 and 16 years old. The second group was made up of solely women and girls, all fairly young; one looked like she could be no older than 12. The third group was made up of the really young, men and elders of the village.

The soldier that had been speaking turned to the first group. "You all have honor to have chosen to serve to protect your families, but first you must prove yourselves. Each of you will be given a gun and paired up with a person from this group," he said as he waved towards the group made up of the elderly, men and children. "You are to shoot and kill them. If you do not, you will be shot instead."

Harry sneered at the fear that swept through the group. Many of the recruits stepped forward to pass their guns to the boys and show them the basics of firing. A couple of the youngest boys began crying and were quickly shoved into the crowd waiting for their execution. Tears streamed down the faces of the women and the elders as the children shakily lifted their guns to aim at the people that had been their family and friends. Shaky fingers pulled triggers and the sounds of shots and screams echoed through the village. One by one the villagers fell to their own children. The women from the second group wailed in grief but were quickly shut up by the soldiers' fists. Several of the women and boys vomited at the sight of the river of blood that flowed from what was left of their families.

The recruits and soldiers took back their guns, congratulating the shell shocked boys before moving back to their units. Harry watched curiously as the older soldiers began arguing over the group of women and girls who were destined to become their wives and whores. The women tried to hold onto each other but were ripped apart by their soon to be husbands and herded over to one of the trucks. Harry helped load all of the food and supplies from the town into the back of a truck specially brought for this purpose before climbing into another, waiting to head home.

Iblis: An incarnation of the Devil in Islam.

Brown brown: Powdered cocaine cut with gunpowder. Consumed by inhalation, the gunpowder in the drug irritates the bowels which increases aggression.

Bu'eeolei: A village I made up using a mix of other names. I didn't want to use a real village to raid.

Uebi Scebeli: A river that runs parallel to the southern coast of Somalia. It runs up near Mogadishu.

Guntiino: A traditional Somali full-length dress, similar to an Indian sari but made of simple white or red cotton.

A/N: Boy do you guys hate Idris! Yes, he's dark. Yes, he can be considered evil with some of his actions, but you have to keep in mind that there's more to him than that. He really does want the best for Harry, the problem is that first world mores differ greatly from his own. He really does believe that putting Harry though all of this is in his best interest. He had a harsh life growing up on the streets of Mogadishu and doesn't want his son to ever suffer the way he did. He believes moulding Harry the way he is is the best way to prevent him going through the heartache he did.

This by no means makes him a nice man. He's softer when it comes to family, but he is still ruthless outside of it. A third world country is nothing like the world the majority of us grew up in. We know 'peace' and 'fairness', but for them, war is a way of life. There is a really good quote in the movie Black Hawk Down (which is actually set in Somalia during the Battle of Mogadishu) that show how different their reality is from most of ours:

You have the power to kill, but not negotiate. In Somalia,
killing is negotiation. Do you really think if you get General
Aidid, we will simply put down our weapons and adopt
American democracy? That the killing will stop? We know this:
without victory, there can be no peace. There will always
be killing, you see? This is how things are, in our world.

It's a very different world in Somalia than Britain, the US or any of the other first world countries. Keep that in mind when you think about the characters' actions.

The fact that the soldiers in this story took on whores and wives is based on fact. It's usually limited to the Generals and the like but it still happens frequently. Both the killing of the villagers and family members by the newest recruits as well as the use of corpses as furniture comes from A Long Way Gone; aka, it has really happened.