I Want It All

by DZ2

Potter Prime Response: Harry always thought he was nothing, but prey. And, for the longest time, he was right: until the devourers of Light decided to make a meal of him: now, predator becomes prey, prey becomes the Apex Predator. And a long-forgotten evil now seeks to rule all. Evil OP Harry/Fawkes

2. 1: Prey Becomes Predator

I Want It All

Disclaimer/Plot/Challenge Information/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER

Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to Winged Seer Wolf: my recommended reads are Dark Lord Potter, Apex and Damaged Raven by JustBored21, Kill me if you can by PercyPendragon3, Harry's Madness by SilverLocke980, Do Not Meddle In The Affairs Of Wizards by Corwalch, Lord Thanatos by Scarlette-Moon-Howl, Blood Crest by Cauchy, Knight Errant and Harry Potter and the Shadow of the Demon by ArlyssTolero, The Darkening Of Your Soul by MaeglinYedi, Broken Shackles by Black Infinity 1289, Harry Potter: Lord of Darkness by AngelSlayer135 and The Rise of a Dark Lord by LittleMissXanda

Key Pairing: Harry/Fawkes

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

'Mental Speech'

/Parseltongue/

Review Answers:

No responses for this chapter

HOWEVER: I would like to dedicate this chapter to my good friend, Winged Seer Wolf, for helping me come up with an idea for Fawkes' human form and for providing the end scene to this chapter, which I 'tweaked' slightly to suit the story overall.

A million thanks, my old, dear friend.

Well, now Fawkes served a new master, one whom would become a true force to be reckoned with.

And all thanks to that ill-forgotten legacy that lay deep within his DNA: a legacy that was to be reborn from the ashes, much like Fawkes himself.

Yes, Fawkes felt sorry.

Sorry for any humans pathetic enough to stand in his Master's way as he used his true power to make this world remember what real magic looked like, and what happened when you thought yourself greater than a force that was more-or-less Emrys Incarnate and then some.

'Soon, Master…soon…'

Chapter 1: Prey Becomes Predator

'Fuck, it's so hot!'

As stressed out, annoyed and more than a little tense, if not jumpy, as he was with how everything seemed to have gone ass-and-tits up as of late, the now-fifteen-year-old Harry James Potter also had to contend with the recent overbearing, even deadly heatwave – to some Muggles, it was such, as Harry recalled news reports of how people were collapsing and even found dead from the heat –that seemed to have stuck to the mainland of Great Britain since…well…if he was being honest, he'd say it had stuck with him and his homeland since the end of the Triwizard Tournament.

The fact that this was also the same time that the very laws of nature and the Natural Order had been violently ass-raped thanks to the resurrection of Lord Voldemort was either the world's biggest, stupidest coincidence or, as Harry sometimes wondered, was responsible for it.

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Not that anyone chose to believe, let alone listen to Harry when he tried explaining things.

Once again, for what was now the third time in his Hogwarts life, Harry's words, arguments and proof all fell on deaf ears, thanks to the cloth-eared Minister and his band of baying hyenas, not to mention the Headmaster's pathetic attempts to try and convince Fudge-Balls otherwise.

On top of that, Harry was, once again, alone for the whole summer; no owls, no messages, no rescue attempts and no time or patience, even less-so thanks to the nightmares that plagued him every night. Of course, his nightmares only disturbed the Dursleys, which was Vernon's cue to bellow like a narwhal engaging in intercourse about Harry waking them up.

Please.

One fart, belch or even a wet dream-induced cry from the disgusting freak of nature, not to mention his son, and the whole neighbourhood would probably be awake for the rest of the night, if not the rest of eternity.

But no.

It was Harry's fault they couldn't sleep, just like it was apparently Harry's fault that the heat had killed off Aunt Petunia's beloved flowerbeds, overcooked Vernon's car radiator, damaged the house AC – which never seemed to be switched off, even on a normal day – and even caused the government to issue water rationing.

Yes, even the workings of the Muggle government was Harry's fault, in the eyes of the Dursleys.

So, thanks to their stupidity, as well as Vernon's rapidly-expanding waistline and his suffering liver – because, apparently, Vernon needed plenty of bottles and cans to keep cool and, naturally, if they ran out…yup…Harry's fault – and Petunia's constant, unhelpful shrieks about how Harry was ruining her flowers with his freakish heat, the emerald-eyed youth tried to spend as much time as he could away from Number Four.

He didn't even bother trying to listen to the Muggle news, since people were being so pig-ignorant and pathetic to a T that not even the reality-show-loving Muggle sheep would recognise the threat before it was too late.

So, instead, Harry suffered under the glare of the sun, developing a mildly-healthy tan over the first few weeks – whereas any Muggle would have probably developed more melanomas than a Dalmatian had spots, but thanks to his magical blood, Harry's body adapted much quicker; or so he chose to believe – as well as toning up a little with how he took to taking long walks, and even brief jogs, around the village. Sometimes, he'd even go out to the playground and perform pull-ups on the tree branches there, or take runs through the park, using a skill he later identified as parkour to bounce and rebound off of the deserted play equipment there.

It was definitely more-worthwhile exercise than he'd ever been able to hold onto in the Muggle World, and Harry was proud of it.

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Now, however, as daylight started to vanish and the evening rolled in, Harry sat alone on one of the abandoned swings, watching as yet another normal family got to enjoy their time together, and another normal kid got a promise of something good from his Mother.

As he watched, not at all ashamed of the envy that ate away at his insides – to be honest, after seeing Ron and his way-too-big family always being so happy, cheerful and loving, he was used to the jealousy, not that the ignorant redhead knew it – Harry's eyes narrowed suddenly when he heard a small chorus of familiar voices drawing closer to where he was sitting.

'Oh great; the monkeys have returned from throwing shit at one another,' thought Harry, clenching his fists as he looked to the source of the sound.

Sure enough, his Death-Star-sized cousin, Dudley, as well as the other laughing hyenas swaggered up to the park area, Dudley's shadow long enough to probably block out the sun, while the others were already guffawing and nudging one another playfully.

"Hey, Big D!" sneered Harry, knowing how angry it made Dudley to have Harry use a term that was meant to be reserved for friends.

If anything, doing a Snape on the fat fucker was probably one of the few joys Harry got out of his summer, but, unlike Snape, Harry also had a viable reason and target for his ire, seeing as how both the reason and target were still alive and, unlike Harry, they couldn't do anything.

"You look fucked; beat up another ten-year-old, did you?"

"This one deserved it."

"Oh really?" asked Harry, kicking his feet aimlessly as he asked, "Why? Did he tell you that the Russian Circus want their tent back? Because that's not an insult, Diddykins: it's the truth!"

"At least I'm not afraid of my pillow."

"No, just pink umbrellas," drawled Harry, earning a fearful flinch from Dudley that Harry knew thanks to how the idiots in his real home always reacted whenever someone said Voldemort's name. "Or is it blouse buttons now? I forget; how many times did Auntie Marge the Human Zeppelin hit you in your thick head?"

"S-S-S-Shut up, Potter!"

"Oh, very original, Popkin," retorted Harry, lifting himself up as he sneered at Dudley before he asked, "Whatever next? Insulting my Mum and Dad? Or maybe mocking the fact I can't sleep? Because, let me tell you; if you weren't too busy masturbating over Piers and Gordon in the shower…"

"Take that back!"

As soon as Dudley charged Harry, the young boy scoffed before, easily ducking the attempted tackle, Harry stuck out his foot, sending Dudley falling over like the idiotic clumsy monkey he was, before he turned and, grabbing a handful of Dudley's hair, he shoved him, face-first, into a pile of dog muck that Harry had intentionally kept his distance from on another swing.

"Didn't your drunken Daddy ever teach you, Precious Lickle Princey Neffy-Poo?" asked Harry, releasing Dudley as he scowled darkly, "There's always going to be someone who isn't afraid of you and, do you know what? Thanks to your dickless Dad and your anorexic Mum telling me to keep my distance this summer, I've come to realise something, Popkin, Marshmallow Man! That bigger, stronger, better someone who isn't afraid of a meaningless Muggle slug like you? He's the guy with lightning on his head and green fire in his eyes! Now…"

Here, Harry rose up before, turning to the gang, he held out his hands invitingly as he asked, "Anyone else?"

Like day-to-night, Harry predicted the order of Dudley's so-called backup – although, to him, they were more like backing singers – coming to their fat, beyond-morbidly-obese, beyond-ignorantly-pathetic and slower than frozen maple syrup leader.

First, Malcolm, who Harry easily side-stepped and pushed on top of Dudley, sending the fat arse back into the shit while Malcolm's crotch ended up in a very compromising position.

Second, Gordon, whom Harry just scoffed before he kicked him hard in-between his legs, before he commented, "You really should keep your legs closed when you duck-walk after your master, little mutt!"

Finally, Piers, who, realising that Harry was the Apex Predator here, did what all cowards loved doing.

He turned and fled.

"And people say Dinky Diddums is the clever one," drawled Harry, brushing himself down before, leaving through the gate at the end of the playground, he walked over to the underpass, a part of him deciding he might as well see if he could catch a few Z's before his dreams were disturbed, either by Tom or by Vernon's latest rendition of Stars and Stripes Forever on the body's own bagpipes.

As he walked into the tunnel under the main road, however, Harry also found himself smiling at the thought of his earlier remark about how, this summer, things seemed to have become clearer to him.

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He didn't know why, exactly, but, for the first time in what felt like forever, Harry found he didn't have to worry about gluttonously-jealous, not to mention biased to the point of hypocritical idiots, loud-mouthed, insufferable know-it-alls, so-called plans and rescues that he didn't want to get involved in or, more-importantly, even worrying about his reputation as the owner of a title he never asked for.

He'd also noticed, especially since turning fifteen just two days before, how strong he started to feel; it was like there was something inside of him that, like two sticks being rubbed together at camp, seemed to want to start a fire, but there was still something that was missing.

What?

He didn't know.

In fact, whenever he tried to figure it out, Harry always found himself getting dizzy, but he just put it down to the heat.

Even so, the strength, the confidence, the bravery and even the somewhat-darksided, if not aggressive, fighting-back thoughts he came out with all felt so good to him.

So good, in fact that, for the first time, despite how stupid his world was being at the moment, he was actually looking forwards to going back to Hogwarts, but not for the reason that the morons and the pathetic back-and-forth hypocrites probably thought he was.

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"Oi, freak!"

"You know, they say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, Dinky," mused Harry, stopping about halfway through the tunnel as he turned back to Dudley whom, as he expected, looked lost, clueless and without any thought of how or what Harry was talking about.

This didn't surprise Harry, especially since he didn't say the words freak, precious, Mummy, Daddy, food, money or presents.

He did, however, say more to the amoeba-brained loser, "So, you're cornering me, here, in a dark, abandoned tunnel, with no backup, no witnesses and nobody who cares whether an insect like you lives or dies? Whereas I, on the other hand, only need one word to hurt you; would you like to know what that word is, Popkin?"

Suddenly, Dudley froze in place as he saw Harry draw his wand, much in a manner that reminded Harry himself of Arthur drawing Excalibur.

The wood was just as effective on the fat lard as he paled in horror before he gasped, "Y-Y-Y-You…you c-c-c-c-can't d-d-d-d-d-do that!"

"Oh?" asked Harry, advancing on Dudley with a sinister smile and his wand held tightly in his hand, "W-W-W-W-W-W-Watch me!"

Then, just as Harry went to deliver what he saw as poetic justice for the guy who got off on the thought of his imbecilic yes-men playing a game of Harry-Hunting – where the reward was to get to suck whatever passed for Dudley's dick for the winner – the young Gryffindor stopped dead in his tracks when an ominous, if not dark sensation crossed his mind.

At the same time, Harry drew in a slow breath through his nostrils before he blew out through his mouth.

Breathing a cloud of steam into the air that was so visible, he might as well be a dragon about to breathe fire.

"I thought it was getting cold in here," muttered Harry, tightening his grip on his wand as he turned his back on the fat freak, before he added, "Change of plans, Puffy the Marshmallow; instead, let me give you a word of…"

Suddenly, Harry's tirade was cut off when a particularly heavy stone struck the back of his head, sending him sprawling to the floor.

The next thing he heard was Dudley's triumphant laugh, accompanied by the telltale sound of a wand being broken, while the ignorant whale calf laughed, "Ha! Let's see you hurt me now, you…what the fuck is that?"

'Huh…he can see them,' mused Harry.

But that was all he got to muse before the thing he'd noticed, the Dementor, advanced on him and proceeded to drain him of all his light.

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A jolt of pain.

A wave of anger.

A burst of strength.

And, finally, a powerful rippling sense that could only be described as empowerment!

These were all things that Fawkes felt as he sat on his perch, alone in his not-master's office, waiting for the next Burning Day; this had been his way ever since the bearded bastard had dared to usurp the Great Power that had almost come back to this so-called modern time when Fawkes had unlocked it from deep inside of his true Master.

As a result of the Usurper's movement, his Master had become lost, broken, weakened and forced to dance to the organ grinder's tune.

But now…Fawkes could feel it!

His Master!

He had returned!

And Fawkes only had one chance to do something; a chance he would not waste, especially not with the old fool off playing his one-sided game of chess with the other weaklings.

Well, it was time the manipulative old coot learned what it really felt like to be in Checkmate!

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'I…really…hate…DEMENTORS!'

Thanks to Fat Boy Fatter smashing his wand, all Harry could do was mentally voice his dislike for the black-cloaked creatures, as one of them proceeded to loom ever-closer to Harry, draining more and more of his Light, and making him feel weaker as he felt the cold, dread-inducing effects of the Dementors take hold.

And, just like last time, as the Dementor fed on him, Harry heard sounds…voices…memories…all of them moving through his mind like the wailing spirits of the damned.

'Not Harry…please, not Harry…'

'Lily, it's him! Take Harry and run…'

'I'm going to kill you, Harry Potter…'

'Kill the spare!'

'He's NOT back! I refuse to accept this coward's delusions as proof!'

'I'm sorry, Harry, but, this is for the Greater Good! OBLIVIATE!'

Suddenly, as Harry felt the darkness rushing up to meet him, blacking out his mind and his memories, something very deep inside of him suddenly snapped, bringing with it the last of the memories that Harry could recall.

A memory he wasn't even aware that he had held, while, at the same time, he was also aware of warmth seeping back into him.

Warmth and…something else.

Something that seemed to come from somewhere overhead, falling down into Harry's mouth until, like the last drips of water being claimed by a very thirsty man, the liquid flowed down his gullet, making Harry reach out with his tongue, intending to draw in the tang, even though he didn't know where it came from or why he seemed so insistent on claiming it.

At the same time, a new voice whispered in Harry's mind.

An unfamiliar, yet also-familiar voice, which was filled with warmth, magic and pride, all of which seemed to be aimed at Harry as the voice spoke to him.

'Master…please…forgive me; I could not help you, then! But I can now! And I shall…please, Master; take my power…take my magic…take it into you, as you did once before…take it…and finally know who and what you are!'

Then, Harry heard what sounded like a roar of flames, like a raging inferno that had suddenly sprang up out of nowhere before, from somewhere he could neither see nor hear, a strange, mildly-familiar voice cried out in his direction.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

As Harry felt new strength, oddly-familiar strength, flowing back into him as he gulped down the last dregs of whatever water had just been fed to him, he was dimly-aware of a bright, all-consuming warmth filling his body, accompanied by a large, corporeal, white-coloured creature, which flew past Harry, sending the Dementor away.

"Well…that happened…" muttered Harry, looking to the Dementor, who seemed to be pinned beneath what looked like a large, white, winged beast of a creature; a winged beast that, to Harry, looked like a Gryphon, but was much bigger, pulsing with Light Magic and, to Harry's amazement, filled with an aura of greater-than-great power.

Power that seemed to reach out to Harry before, like something out of a cartoon, several faint wisps of this power slithered up Harry and tickled at his nose and mouth. When Harry opened his mouth to say something, he gasped when, all of a sudden, the white gryphon seemed to be pulled into his mouth, almost like he was feeding on the magic within it.

As the gryphon was consumed by Harry's power – seemingly-willingly, a part of Harry noticed – he also heard the voice from before address him again.

'That's it, Master; take it all in. You deserve this: the chance to have what is rightfully yours once again. And, this time, no senile, manipulative, unworthy old bastards will be able to take it from you. Go on, Master; take it…feast! Consume all that my power offers you and then, when you're done, have more!'

As the voice commanded for Harry to have more, the last of the gryphon was slurped up into Harry's body, accompanied by a wave of all-powerful strength that seemed to flow through every single cell in Harry's body. All of a sudden, it was like someone had plugged Harry into the main power source of the United Kingdom as a whole, filling him with a hundred…a thousand…a million-times more magical strength than he could ever remember feeling.

And yet, as he felt this power coursing through him, Harry was a little surprised to realise he had used this strange power before.

A long time ago, or so it seemed, on another Dark force who'd thought they had the right to take him out.

Well, just like that time, there was only one thing Harry had to say.

"I want some more!"

With that, his eyes settled on the Dementor, which was barely able to crawl away to the far end of the tunnel.

Sneering at its pitiful attempt to leave, Harry held up a hand, licking his lips for additional emphasis as he mused, "Oh, I don't think so: you tried to eat me…well, now, let me show you what that feels like…"

The Dementor only had a moment to react before, like it would do when it fed on another's happiness, its body became a distorted mass of magical energy, which slowly found itself drawn towards the body of the emerald-eyed scion that held such great, ancient, and terrible power in his hands.

As the Dementor was assimilated by Harry's mysterious new power, he was dimly aware of a green flash flying past him, before he heard a distant thud and a clattering sound. Following that, all went still and silent, save for the sound of Harry letting out a ghostly, almost-demonic snarl of a noise as he finished swallowing up the Dementor's magical energy.

As though emphasising how successful he was, Harry burped, patting his stomach with his fist before he laughed, "Wow…that felt so good…"

"It should."

Spinning around, Harry was a little surprised to see someone other than his morbidly-obese relative – whom he saw, and yet, couldn't bring himself to care that he saw Dudley lying on the ground, showing signs of having suffered The Dementor's Kiss – standing in the tunnel with him.

It was a boy…an older boy, or rather, Harry guessed he was older, because he seemed to be about sixteen or seventeen, if he were to guess.

Like most people this summer, Harry noticed the youth had a deeply-bronzed skin tone, which almost made him look like a Grecian statue made flesh: he was so attractive to behold, even Harry would admit it and, as he stared at the young man, hungrily devouring the features of the youth before him with his eyes, Harry found himself envisioning what this guy would look like in a different situation.

Namely, hair-buck naked, sprawled beneath Harry, begging for him to claim what was rightfully his, which Harry would do, slowly, tantalisingly and with a hunger that would only be sated when Harry decided it would be so.

In the meantime, as he somewhat-reluctantly broke himself out of his pleasurable daydream, Harry took in the sight of the handsome youth's broad shoulders, which he noticed, were covered by a muggle black short sleeved shirt and black jeans that hugged his hips, emphasising an ass that you probably could bounce a nickel off of, if not the same for his eight-pack abs, which could actually be seen beneath the guy's shirt.

The very sight had Harry's mouth watering with hunger anew, but he forced himself to focus more on the boy's other distinguishing features, such as how the teen had a head of black hair that was a bit longer than Harry's, but with deep red and gold lowlights, which made it look like he had flames dancing over his fringe, emphasising his eyes, which, to Harry's bemusement, seemed as if burning fire was caught in his eyes, because of their eerie, but delicious-looking golden-eyed glow, which made Harry think of the colour of the sun at its peak.

As he stared at the newcomer, still ravenously-hungry with the idea of sinking his teeth – and other parts of himself – into this uber-hot delicacy, Harry felt a soft laugh escape him as he asked, "Did you save me?"

"I just did what I had to," said the boy, earning a raised eyebrow from Harry.

His voice was soft, sibilantly-so, with an air of youth and strength that made Harry feel both calm and, again, deliriously-ravenous for the taste of this boy, who didn't even seem fazed by Harry's looks, much less how eager the emerald-eyed scion was to claim him.

Instead, the strange teenager grinned, showing off two rows of perfectly-white teeth, before he told Harry, "I'm Kai, by the way, and I'm just glad that I could help you out, Harry Potter."

'Even him saying my name sounds delicious!' thought Harry, shaking his head to try and cut off his own train of thought before he heard the boy, Kai, go on.

"I transferred to Hogwarts and, this year, I'll be in my fifth year, just like you. Personally, if it means getting to know the great and powerful Harry James Potter, I hope and pray to Magic that I'm in Gryffindor."

'Me too,' thought Harry, again thinking of ravaging this boy, even moreso in Gryffindor Tower, the Gryffindor Quidditch Changing Rooms or, more-deliciously and arousingly, the showers.

Oh, how yummy he'd look with water running down him, as Harry dirtied him up with his seed and the bite marks he wanted to leave on the boy's caramel-esque skin tone.

"Until then," added Kai, giving Harry a sly wink as he told him, "I'd get moving if I were you; it won't be long before the vultures come circling."

"Right," said Harry, earning a warm smile from Kai before, to Harry's surprise, the other boy moved right up to him before he leaned in and kissed Harry, right on his lightning-bolt scar.

"If you need anything," whispered Kai, brushing a lock of Harry's hair away from his eyes, before he added, "Anything at all, I'm here for you…"

'Did he just emphasise that last bit?' wondered Harry, before he gulped hard as, trying to breathe through the arousal that threatened to overwhelm him there and then, he instead whispered, "Thank you."

Nodding once, Kai turned on his heel before, to Harry's shock, the strange boy vanished in a burst of blackish-red-coloured flames, leaving Harry alone with an empty tunnel, Dudley's soulless body and nothing else.

Or so he thought, until he turned and, to his surprise, he saw Mrs Figg, lying not four feet from him, her eyes wide and glassy.

'The green flash!' thought Harry.

As he thought about it, he gasped when he saw another flash of fire appear, but, this time, the flame danced over Harry's hand and, when it faded, there was a small note there.

I took care of an enemy of yours.

I will do anything for you, Harry.

Never forget that.

Kai

'Anything?' thought Harry, shaking his head to get rid of the weird thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him.

He had more important things to think about for now.

For example, this weird new power he had to absorb magic, if not feed on it like a vampire feeding on blood.

Once again, Harry found himself thinking the only thing he could as he thought about his new ability.

'Please Sir, I want some more!'

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As Harry slowly made his way back to Privet Drive, a part of him already looking forwards to the looks on Vernon and Petunia's faces when he told them about what had happened to their precious Dinky Diddums, he didn't notice a pair of golden-coloured eyes watching him from within the glare of the setting sun.

Or rather, from a point where the sun seemed to bathe his body in its glow, masking Kai's presence as he looked down at his human body before, looking up again, he smiled and nodded as he watched Harry return to his prison.

Now, a prison no longer.

Not with the power that was now available to him, no matter what delusional old bastards might try and make it otherwise.

'See you soon, Master.' Kai thought, before he took a deep breath as he was once more consumed by fire.

Chapter 1 is now over and done with and, bloody hellfire and brimstone: what a change to canon, wouldn't you agree?

Even so, how will Harry handle the future, not only with new powers, but a mysterious new friend who seems willing to be whatever Harry wants him – or needs him – to be?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Durzkaban beckons, but…wait: what's this? Something's rotten in the state of Surrey; something Harry doesn't like. Ah well, as a wise woman once said: if you find something you don't like, eat it!

Please Read and Review

AN: Portrayal

Kai: Alex Black