The Rise of the Dark Lord Acnologia

by DZ2

Potter Prime Response: Harry was always hungry, living with those who've probably never even heard of the word. But then, he finds a way to sate his hunger and, in doing so, become more powerful than any wizard before him. Just one small problem: he's still hungry! VERY Dark/Evil OP Harry

1. That First Taste

The Rise of the Dark Lord Acnologia: A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own Fairy Tail or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to the original creators. I do not own any other crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.

Plot: Potter Prime Response: Harry was always hungry, living with those who've probably never even heard of the word. But then, he finds a way to sate his hunger and, in doing so, become more powerful than any wizard before him. Just one small problem: he's still hungry!

Challenge Information: DZ2's 'Potter Prime' Challenge: For years, Harry was told he was weak, pathetic and good for nothing, except dying or being a symbol for a world full of hypocrites. However, when said world is introduced to Harry, it comes with a very surprising new talent: one that they may call Dark, but Harry calls the way to ensure he is NEVER weak again.

Rules: Dark or Evil Harry

Super or OP Harry ONLY

When the story starts is up to you

The new 'talent' Harry discovers is the ability to absorb magic/magical energy, making him stronger and more powerful

For once, the Magical World MUST be right to call this a Dark Power, but Harry doesn't care

What effects taking in so much magic has on Harry physically/mentally/emotionally is up to you

There MUST be one 'friend' of Harry's who tries to stop him, only to be completely drained of their magic for betraying him

To fully test his new power, Harry MUST drain the magic/energy from the blood wards surrounding Privet Drive

All pairings are welcome

Guidelines: Crossovers

Snapped/Insane Harry

Dark-Lord Harry

This is the TRUE power of the Master of Death

Creature-Harry - the ability is a trait of a seemingly long-forgotten/extinct magical race

Instead of simply draining magic to make himself stronger, Harry actually hungers for magic, like vampires hunger for blood and so his absorbing is actually feeding on someone/something's magic

Any whom Harry drains become mindless ghouls/slaves whose only desire is to serve their Master

Somehow, Harry can make others have his power, but when they absorb magic, they actually strengthen him and not themselves

Harry can drain the magic from Creature Races/Magical Beasts/Creatures as well as Witches and Wizards

Harry can drain the practically-non-existent magic within Squibs

At his zenith, Harry takes on a new mantle/title to signify his ascension to greatness

At full power, Harry can defy any/all laws of magic and do things others would call impossible (e.g. raise the dead, make himself immortal, etc.)

With his overwhelming power banks, Harry discovers he can give magic to Muggles/Squibs (for what purpose is up to you)

Slash

Harems

Harry/Multi

A prophecy speaks of the return of this Forbidden Power

As well as Privet Drive's blood wards, Harry drains the magic from wards around other buildings/areas

Instead of reviving Voldemort, the ritual actually reverses, feeding Harry ALL Voldemort's power

At least once, Harry drains a Horcrux

Voldemort agrees to serve Harry

The power is hereditary

Some witches, wizards and/or magical races see Harry as some sort of Dark God

Forbidden: Light or Grey Harry

Weak Harry

Harry forsaking this new power

At least one traitor to his cause NOT being punished by having their magic drained

Harry NOT draining the power of the blood wards

The ability just being Dark because Britain says so (the whole WORLD knows its a Dark/Forbidden Magic)

Harry siding with Voldemort

Anyone convincing Harry to give up using his new power

Other than that, it's up to you…

Author's Note: So, I imagine a certain someone on this site will get the reference and why I've labelled another fandom in the disclaimer; at the same time…well, let's just say Harry's not the only one hungry. So, as a wise man once said: put on your Sunday best. It's time to feast!

And, as always, if you don't like it, don't read it.

Recommended Reads: I Want It All And More by Winged Seer Wolf, Bonded and Dark Lord Potter by JustBored21, On Black Wings by Darkscythe Drake, Monochrome by The BlackStaff and NightMarE, Kill me if you can by PercyPendragon3, No Regrets by MyAlternatePersona, An Ace In The Hole by aadixon, Harry Potter: Lord of Darkness by AngelSlayer135, The Necromancer by MaeglinYedi and Harry Potter: Rise of Darkness by Rezurex

Key Pairing: Harry/TBD

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

'Mental Speech'

/Parseltongue/

Chapter 1: That First Taste

Hungry.

Harry James Potter was always hungry.

Every night, or at least, it felt like every night, he went to bed, with a monster roaring like a demon from the deepest pits of Hell, the beast within letting its cries tear apart his insides and make him cower, whimper and beg for it to stop. Sometimes, Harry had even been sick from the hunger, if not the stale, disgusting, out-of-date scraps he was given whenever he was a good boy.

As though eating was meant to be earned, and not something that human beings did when the urge came on them.

Then again, Harry wouldn't exactly call the things he lived with human.

Acnologia

Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley were as inhuman as it was possible to become.

Whether it was their attitudes, the way they loved to believe their shit didn't stink, or just the fact that two thirds of the trio of freakishly-abnormal people looked like they'd never even heard of the word hungry – unless Dudley complained about it, which, ninety-nine-point-nine-percent of the time, was Harry's fault – with how morbidly-obese, borderline-fatally-diabetic and out of shape they were. In fact, more often than not, Harry found himself comparing his Uncle to the world's ugliest, inbred walrus crossed with a narwhal, a blue whale and an African Elephant.

And Dudley was the same, except for the fact he had no moustache, so he was more like a leopard seal, crossed with everything that Harry thought about when he privately mocked his Uncle's disgustingly-fat frame.

As for Aunt Petunia, she was clearly the offspring of a garden rake forcibly shoved into a skeleton and then gang-raped by horses of different breeds, so that the outcome was something so thin, bony and anything, but perfect – even though she was the only one who thought she was the spitting image of perfection – that it was a miracle that even a stray breeze didn't break every bone in her body.

But as for Harry?

He was small, thin – though more-malnourished and frail-looking than actually thin – and always dressed in clothes that could have housed the Russian Circus, but certainly not the body of a small boy.

The Dursleys might never know what hungry meant – except for Dudley, who knew it was his Father's favourite excuse to beat on the freak for being lazy, ungrateful and a real good-for-nothing slacker – but there was no doubt in anyone's mind.

Harry James Potter definitely knew what being hungry was.

Acnologia

The hunger that clawed at his belly, carving him open from the inside out and leaving him weak, whimpering and just begging for the embrace of unconsciousness, if not whatever brief reprieve the arms of Morpheus offered, only got worse on days where food became more like a king's feast.

One that Harry was forced to cook, he didn't hesitate to add, without so much as a sign, or a whisper of the words thank and you.

Easter.

Christmas.

And, especially, Halloween.

Now that was sheer torture, especially when it became Harry's job to mop up, collect bucketfuls of, and generally clean up all the sick that Dudley spewed everywhere because he'd eaten too many sweets again, which, of course, was Harry's fault for poisoning the precious Popkin with such filthy sweets.

And the cure?

Dudley eating more sweets, obviously.

For several years, Halloween became a real, living nightmare for Harry.

But then, one fated Halloween Night, a real trick was revealed to Harry.

And, as the Halloween creed-o said, with tricks, there came treats…

Acnologia

GRRRRRRROOWOWOWWOWOWWOWLLLLLLL-GRRURRURURMMBBBLEE!

It was only through sheer dumb luck that seven-year-old Harry managed to reach the large bins outside before his latest tummy rumble, which felt more like a Force 12 Earthquake mixed with an F5 tornado, tore through his body, forcing him to drop the buckets full of vomit, half-digested sweets and mulched-up jellies, courtesy of Dudley Dursley, aka the Vomit Rocket.

As the buckets fell into the bins, while Harry groaned and winced in terrible pain from the tremors of tormenting agony that tore through his small belly, the young boy fell to the ground, clutching at his abdomen while tears filled his eyes.

"No…" gasped Harry, biting back his pain as best as he could, while he also had to swallow hard to keep the bile rising in his throat from this fresh wave of pain, "Not…not now; please…it hurts…I…I'm so hungry…but…but they'll be mad…they'll hurt me again…no! Damnit…"

Unfortunately, the monster in Harry's belly did not let up, leaving Harry sobbing as he looked up, seeing a small sliver of half-digested sick dripping off the edge of the bins. It looked disgusting, and smelled even worse, but, lost in his delirium as he was, the sliver looked more like a slab of melted chocolate to the ravenously-hungry young boy.

"Just…just a bit…" Harry promised himself, clawing his way towards the bins, if only to retrieve the buckets, as well as sneak a small sip of the muck that was more or less going to waste anyway. "They…they won't know…it's just a little bit, right?"

"GET IN HERE NOW, YOU LITTLE FREAK! LOOK AT WHAT YOU MADE DUDLEY DO WITH YOUR LAZINESS!"

'He's been sick again,' thought Harry, scowling as he struggled to his feet, intending to hold onto the bins for support.

However, with the hunger assaulting his insides, delirium and loss of sense affecting his mind and the October cold stinging his fingers, not to mention the rest of him thanks to the raggedy clothes he wore, Harry didn't even reach the offerings available to him before his head hit the ground.

Though not before he smacked his head hard against the wheel at the bottom of the bin, causing him to leak blood from his forehead as he lay on the ground in front of Number Four. Not that anyone else noticed this, mind you, since, for whatever reason, the narrow-minded imbeciles on the street suddenly developed a terrible case of blindness whenever they pretended to see Harry, either in pain, in his overhanging clothes or, more often than not, being chased and bullied by the other kids.

To them, thanks to the Dursleys' so-called stories of his parents, Harry was a freak, an outcast, the son of drug addicts and prostitutes who'd gotten his own parents killed because they didn't want him in the first place.

So, even though any normal person would have raised some serious red flags at the sight of a bleeding, starved, semi-conscious boy lying next to a wheelie bin, the people of Privet Drive saw no evil, heard no evil and spoke no evil.

Ironic, really.

Given the evil that was about to rise up…

Acnologia

'What's that?'

As Harry lay on the ground, bleeding out over the bottom of the wheelie bin and the paved pathway on the drive, his nose suddenly twitched while his brow furrowed as a strange, alien scent reached his nostrils.

'That smell,' thought the little boy, his tongue poking out from between his lips like a snake tasting the air, as he mused, 'It…it smells delicious; like so many candies and…and chocolate…and marshmallows and…and…I don't know what…'

In the back of his mind, Harry knew he shouldn't be so entranced by a smell like this, especially since his Aunt and Uncle were already bellowing for him to come and wait on Dudley again, but he couldn't help himself.

This smell…it was like a ghostly figure in one of Dudley's cartoons, the wispy trails of the spirit's tempting essence reaching out to Harry and pushing their way into his nostrils, while another ghostly hand tickled at his lips and touched the tip of his tongue, making his emerald-green eyes light up with excitement, longing and, as weird as it sounded for a seven-year-old boy, even lust, all of which were aimed at the smell.

Besides…he was so hungry, so why wouldn't he feed?

Crawling over the floor, following the tendrils as they beckoned him closer, like wailing spirits of desire begging Harry to come and eat them all up, and that they were all for him, Harry found the smell leading him towards the corner of the property. In his mind's eye, the tendrils of smell and temptation seemed to be gathering here, all together, in this one single, solitary spot.

He could smell them…no…more than that.

He could see them!

He could see what could only be described as a hive, or nest, of swirling, slithering shapes and shadows, all of which seemed to weave their way around the perimeter of Number Four, Privet Drive. Some of them reached out to the house while others seemed to burrow their way deep into the earth itself, like worms or moles digging their way deeper and deeper, further and further away from the light.

He could see them…and smell them…and they looked and smelled…DELICIOUS!

'But how do I eat them?' wondered Harry, lowering his head to the ground, as though he actually intended to chew the ground open.

However, as soon as he opened his mouth, his hands planted flat on the ground, the young boy's eyes widened when he saw the weird hive of misshapen forms and glowing lights and mysterious shadows rise up, like fingers clawing their way out of the earth before, one by one, each one of those lights and shadows flew into Harry's mouth!

Harry didn't understand what was going on, or how any of this was possible; in fact, part of him even wondered if he was having some crazy dream.

And yet, as he watched the strange essences flying into his mouth, the only thing the young boy could think about was one thing.

How hungry he was.

And, if these strange things wanted him to eat them, then he would oblige them.

'Go on then, weird things,' thought Harry, drawing in a long, deep breath, as though he was trying to inhale the very air and the strange lights and shadows with it, slurping up each one like spaghetti, savouring the wide range of flavours that danced on his tongue before sending them all down into his belly, which actually began to swell as he fed like a king for the first time ever.

All the while, commanding the strange power to do just one thing.

'GET IN MY BELLY!'

Acnologia

Sirens!

That was what Albus Dumbledore heard as he looked up from yet another boring report from the Samhain Gathering of the Wizengamot.

As soon as he heard the sirens, and saw the puffs of blood-red smoke emanating from his wide range of monitoring devices, all of which were tied to one solitary soul – for the Greater Good, of course – Dumbledore was on his feet, grabbing a hold of Fawkes, who trilled at having been disturbed, but Dumbledore didn't care.

"Take me to Privet Drive now! I command you!"

With no choice, but to obey, Fawkes flashed out of the office, taking Dumbledore with him.

Acnologia

Seconds later, the old man appeared on the street of Privet Drive, his eyes wide with alarm, disbelief, rage and no small amount of horror, all of which was aimed at one single, solitary reason.

Numbers Six and Two, Privet Drive, were clearly-visible.

But where Number Four was supposed to stand between the two houses, there was now one huge gaping hole, which looked more like a wasteland, including weeds, dead bicycle skeletons and the sight of the night-time sky beyond, including fireworks, courtesy of those who'd decided to celebrate Guy Fawkes' Night a little early.

"What in Merlin's name?"

"Can I help you?"

Turning to look at the speaker, Dumbledore saw an ordinary Muggle man, standing with two boys, whom looked like weirdly-decorated figures, including one that looked like nothing, but green skin and the other, which looked more like one of Minerva's kilts.

"Number Four!" exclaimed Dumbledore, pointing to the empty space as he asked, "Where is it? What happened to the Dursley Family?"

"Dursley Family, who's that?" asked the gentleman, earning a horrified look from Dumbledore, before the other man frowned as he added, "And, sorry, but…Number Four? That plot of land's been condemned for decades, ever since the local government discovered poisonous substances and an exposed gas line under the earth. It's been limed and tarred over for a long time; we keep telling the kids not to play there, but…well, you know how kids are, don't you?"

"What about Harry Potter? Where is the Boy-Who-Lived? I demand you tell me now, Muggle!"

"Erm…look, how about you go and take whatever medication you're clearly late for, and I won't report you for frightening my boys," said the man, dragging the two boys away with him, before he added, "Honestly, Halloween really does bring out the crazies; come on, kids. Let's go and see what the next street has to offer…and don't worry about that crazy old man."

Crazy old man…

Now, Dumbledore was pissed!

The last person to call him that…well, she had definitely gotten what she deserved.

And he would be damned if that little bitch's son didn't get the same.

All for the Greater Good!

Without waiting for any more obviously confused and Dark Magic-riddled Muggles to lie to him, Dumbledore Apparated away, conveniently forgetting Fawkes, who looked to the empty spot before, spreading his wings, the phoenix trilled softly.

Seconds later, Fawkes felt something pull him in, before he heard an amused voice speaking to him.

"Don't worry, Fawkes; I'll protect you, but only if you agree to feed me some of your Magic. What do you say?"

As the pull dragged him towards the wasteland, Fawkes flashed out of Privet Drive.

Acnologia

Only to reappear on the shoulder of a much-healthier-looking Harry James Potter, who smiled fondly before, leaning in close, he plucked one of Fawkes' feathers from his body with his teeth. As the phoenix watched, the young boy nommed on the feather, chewing it up like a piece of gum, moaning softly all the while before, tilting his head back, Harry gulped and licked his lips.

"Mmm…you're really tasty, Fawkes; good thing you can't die, huh? So, what do you say? Can I keep eating you? I'm really hungry, you see…"

Wow, talk about freaky, creepy and just plain insane…and that's just Dumbledore!

So, what on earth has happened to Harry? How is it he seems to be able to eat something that he probably shouldn't be able to eat, including, but not limited to, Fawkes himself?

Also, what happened to Number Four, and why would the rest of the Drive not remember it, or Harry, or anything else?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: A hunter prepares for the Ultimate Feeding Frenzy when a certain old coot deludes himself into thinking he can finally get some answers from his would-be martyr; such a shame Harry's been preparing for this meal for some time now…

Please Read and Review