No More Boy-Who-Lived: 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 any 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: Harry James Potter has a secret. One that nobody knows about. Then again, everyone else has been keeping secrets from him. So, why should he care what they'll think when he decides to reveal his biggest secret? Oh boy…umm…guys? Run!
Author's Note: So, I confess, this idea is inspired by several prompt themes and challenges I've written up throughout my time onsite and, at the same time, it's something of a 'vent' story, meaning one I'm generally making up as I go along and using as my outlet for negative thoughts and feelings that might be going on inside of me. So, like it, don't like it, whatever.
Also, you'll notice I'm actually 'plugging' one of my own works in my recommended reads: well, that's because, like I did with that story years ago, I'm basically going nuts, but with fun and madness abound and probably some crack elements to boot, with this one, so…enjoy and welcome to the Madhouse, my long-lost friends.
(Cue insane laugh that'd make even Bellatrix Lestrange swear an Unbreakable Vow to be more…normal from now on!)
I'll say it anyway, just out of habit: don't like, don't read.
Recommended Reads: Harry Potter: No More by DZ2, Harry Potter: Lord of Darkness by AngelSlayer135, Harry's Madness by SilverLocke980, A God Among Gods by DemonStalkingDragon, Kill me if you can by PercyPendragon3, Apex, Damaged Raven, Dark Lord Potter and Bonded by JustBored21, Harry Potter Unleashed by berzipotter, Angry, Overpowered Harry Potter by TomHRichardson, Do Not Meddle In The Affairs Of Wizards by Corwalch, Of Lies and Deceits and Hidden Personas and Beautifully Broken by Jessiikaa15, Core Threads by theaceoffire, Saviour of Magic by Colt01, Aspirations by megamatt09, Adventures in Magick by PseudonymousEntity, Rise of the Dark Angel by mykkila09, A Fallen God by Hostiel, Lord Thanatos by Scarlette-Moon-Howl, The Power by DarthBill and I Want It All And More, Custos Aeternus, Legatum Cordis Obscurae and Legendarius Custos by Winged Seer Wolf
Key Pairing: Harry/Harem
Other Pairings: To be determined
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
'Mental Speech'
/Parseltongue/
Chapter 1: No More Mr Nice Guy
It was impossible!
Once again, summer had come and, once again, Harry was without kith or kin, left alone against the raging tides of stupidity that existed in Little Whinging; on top of that, a beyond-abnormal, uber-insane heatwave seemed to have blanketed the length and breadth of the United Kingdom, causing temperatures to skyrocket to a level that should have probably caused the whole street to burn and ignite spontaneously.
You could definitely cook an egg on the sidewalk with how hot it was, and how did the government react?
Much like the Ministry of Morons, they banned the use of hosepipes and water aids that could have cooled people down; there was panic in the shops as stores were left looking like cemeteries with how bare and damaged their shelves were.
But, on the plus side, ice cream vans were reporting record sales since…ever!
However, none of that mattered to Harry, since, once again, he was without friends, had no hope or chance in Hell of being supported and helped out by his family and, to make things worse, he was plagued by nightmares, losing sleep, losing strength and…
Hmm…
What else?
Oh!
Yes!
THERE WERE FUCKING DEMENTORS IN LITTLE WHINGING!
No More BWL
Where the demonic creatures had come from, Harry didn't know.
Why they were there? Nope. He didn't know that either.
What they wanted? That was the easy one: they wanted what Dementors always wanted on a hunt.
The souls of their targets.
However, thanks to the beyond-pathetic, definitely-not-normal levels of downright stupidity and hopelessness that summed up whatever was beyond working overtime in Dudley Dursley's planet-sized skull, Harry hadn't even had a chance to defend himself and ensure the Dementors didn't get what they wanted.
Instead, as soon as he seemed to be made aware of something he couldn't bitch and moan about, throwing a temper tantrum that'd make any toddler look polite by comparison and then pinning it all on Harry, Dudley had seen Harry's wand and come to a decision.
Wand, plus freak, plus weirdness, equalled trouble…and trouble could be punched, smashed and broken, before he blamed it all on the Freak later.
So, while the Dementors made their moves, Dudley also made his, by grabbing Harry and holding him down while, with his fat fist and even fatter belly, he made sure to smash, smother and seriously-destroy Harry's wand, ridding them of any chance of being saved, least of all by Harry himself.
Unfortunately for the fat idiot, the Dementors didn't care that he had smashed Harry's wand.
That wasn't going to send them away anytime soon.
And since Muggles couldn't see Dementors, Dudley Dursley was soon left a pale, soulless corpse, lying on the ground, eyes glassy and drool rolling down his cheeks and chins, while the Dementor that had just swallowed his soul actually seemed to make a retching, rasping, sickening sound before it flew away, making what sounded like choking noises as it retreated back to where it had come from.
'Well, what do you know?' thought Harry, looking down at Dudley's body as he scoffed. 'I guess he finally found something that disagreed with him…or is it him disagreeing with the Dementor?'
Regardless, Harry looked up from his cousin's soulless body, a small part of him almost-prepared to face the Dementors, even without a wand, as he wondered why the strange creatures had retreated into the unknown once more. After several long seconds, Harry was left a little surprised to notice how the Dementors didn't seem too willing to return.
Instead, Harry was alone in the tunnel, with only Dudley's corpse, the slowly-setting sun and the heat of the summer.
And yet, as he looked again at the downed body of his cousin, or what was left of him, Harry felt a small, unwilling twitch form at the edge of his mouth; once…twice…three times a lady, the twitch appeared, making Harry's mouth turn upwards from time to time as he felt his lips turn upwards in a smile.
Seconds later, the smile was joined by a low, disbelieving snigger, which was followed by a low, almost-sibilant chuckle, which then turned into fast, frenzied titters and, finally, as though his sense of amusement couldn't hold it back any longer, Harry finally let out a loud, bellowing roar of a belly laugh, which echoed through the tunnel like the roar of the damned.
An irony, given Harry was damned, or at least, he felt like it.
As he stopped laughing, though the sound lingered in the tunnel like a wailing spectre, Harry looked down at Dudley before he scoffed amusingly, shaking his head slowly, but also shakily, as he whispered to his cousin's body.
"You know, you really shouldn't have smashed my wand, Popkin! Now you have…I know what I have to do next…preferably before the Nanny Squad comes a-calling, so, for once in my life, and whatever may be left of yours, you fat, stupid, inbred slug-shagged-a-walrus-and-a-whale dickhead…I have to say…thank you…"
With that, Harry spat on Dudley's face before he strolled off, whistling merrily, but also-hauntingly delighted with himself as he left his cousin's remains in the muck and the dirt.
"Thank you…for reminding me…just who the hell I am!"
No More BWL
As he walked away, whistling merrily to himself, Harry also seemed to go off into his own little world, at least judging by how random, unplanned and targetless his steps seemed as he sauntered back to the hustle and bustle of Surrey's corner of Hell, aka Privet Drive.
In his own little world, however, Harry was hard at work.
You see, what nobody, certainly not the three morons who claimed to be family to fifteen-year-old Harry James Potter knew, much less the freaks, bigots, hypocrites and degenerates who claimed they were the best thing since sliced bread – aka the people in Magical Britain – was that the boy known as Saviour, Hero, Chosen One, Parseltongue, Triwizard Grand Champion, Youngest Seeker in a Century and, of course, Boy-Who-Lived had been keeping a very big secret from them all.
A secret he had discovered so many years earlier, back when he himself had thought of Magic as being the root of all evil, a curse from demons and something to be reviled and cast out like a plague on the Earth.
No More BWL
It had happened back when his aunt had whacked him across the head with her white-hot skillet, just because he had accidentally spilled some custard onto the floor whilst making dessert for the now-soulless – well, more-soulless than usual – Dudley Dursley.
Harry had never said anything, but on that day, his Magic had actually come to him, literally, and enveloped him in its protections – protections he only learned later had come from his Mother sacrificing her life for his – healing his wound and, at the same time, actually bringing him back from the edge of death…again.
Yes, in her anger and blind hatred for her betters, Petunia Dursley had actually almost done Lord Voldemort's job for him and killed her nephew.
However, Harry's Magic had saved him, healed him and, in doing so, it had opened the largest floodgates in Creation, giving Harry James Potter one Merlin of a taste of his true power.
In that moment, Harry had come to realise everything about himself: that he was a wizard, that he had power and that he was a lot of things.
But a Freak was not one of them!
No, in Harry's childish mind, he was more than a Freak; hell, he was more than human…he was a God!
And God did not suffer fools blindly; a fact that the family had learned the hard way for several hours afterwards, only for Harry to draw out his power and wipe their memories once he was done playing with them, having had his fill of their pain, their sorrow and their apologies and blind, fucked-up promises to do better.
In that same moment, Harry's True Power had warned him about the existence of wards around Number Four, which were set to alert some weak, old fool about how powerful Harry had become.
How it was that his Power had become pseudo-sentient, if only enough to warn him and advise him to protect himself, if only for now, Harry neither knew nor cared. Instead, he willingly surrendered himself to this wish, which resulted in him doing something that, for a long time afterwards – right up to the present moment, in fact – he had stuck to religiously, working on playing a long, hard, annoying and definitely screwed-up game.
He sealed away his True Self, instead reverting back to the façade of being an ignorant, naïve, seemingly-unaware young boy whom was thought of as nothing but a burden, instead of being and having everything he had done and acquired to make himself…well…God!
And, for the longest time, it had worked…
But now, with this latest development, realising he wasn't going to achieve anything sitting around, rubbing one out and waiting for everyone to pull their heads out of their own asses, Harry knew he couldn't hideaway any longer.
It was time for the Real Harry…or the Just Harry – to use a term he'd once told Hagrid – to come back out.
And when he came out…
It would be time to play…
No More BWL
As he whistled, seemingly ignorant to everything and everyone/anyone around him, Harry reached deep inside himself, letting every fibre of his being, every scrap of his magic and every ounce of knowledge, emotion and will seek out his True Self.
Like a hoarder rifling through the seemingly-neverending mountains of junk and collectibles that filled their home, so too did Harry dig way deep down into the barebones of his magical essence, pushing through all the shit he'd had to deal with, easily bypassing all the fucked-up notions of right and wrong, Good and Evil and even his fame that he'd had to endure, whilst tunnelling deeper and deeper into the core of his being.
As he dug deeply, Harry felt his scars from each and every one of the levels of his long game flare up, starting with Big Evil, aka the Lightning Bolt Scar that was all that remained of his survival from Lord Voldemort as a baby.
What had been a furious-red, dark streak on his brow, suddenly lit up like a Christmas Tree, bathing its elemental shape in Avada-Kedavra-green light before, with a sound that seemed to resemble a lightning strike, the scar vanished, sending sparkles dancing over Harry's body as he kept walking and whistling to himself.
The next scar was the one from the Basilisk, which actually seemed to grow in size before, like a coiled serpent, it unrolled itself, extending into a large, serpentine shape that bared its fangs before, like the Ouroboros Serpent, it began swallowing itself up, until nothing, but bare flesh remained.
Next, there were the emotional scars brought on by the Boggart, the Basilisk, the truth of Harry's fame, his parents and even every little niggle, nuisance and obstacle he'd had to deal with over the years. From being reunited with an old friend of the family in Remus Lupin, to his ominous and, frankly, amusing promise to kill Sirius; from each and every one of Snape's impotent remarks about Harry's Dad to the broken record about how Harry was just like his Dad, except the eyes…he's got his Mum's eyes.
Even the ghostly memory of the Mirror of Erised, and all the times that he'd looked at the photo album, not to mention his Dad's Cloak, as well as the truth he'd heard in that rickety old shack about his Aunt and his Mum and how jealous the spiteful bitch was that her sister had a better toy than her…all of it came together in a miasma of otherworldly energy and, like his physical scars, it became assimilated by True Harry.
The faint scarring from the rogue Bludger breaking his arm; that went too.
The wounds sustained in the Black Lake and against the Horntail; gone.
The deep cut from Wormtail, in order to revive Voldemort – a time when Harry had been really tempted to break his seal and expose his True Self, if only to give Tom a reason to fear him – yep; that was gone too.
All those tiring moments in Quidditch, as well as late-night study sessions, all the rollercoaster life-or-death adventures, all the fucked-up nonsense he had been forced to endure since locking away his True Self, out of nothing more than self-preservation and to play not only the long game, but, as he now admitted to himself, the ultimate prank on his enemies.
Every single piece of the Fake Harry persona – or, as Harry remembered Malfoy Senior saying, the face that he had been forced to wear each day since True Harry's…absence; that was his true mask – was stripped away with each haunting, ghostly whistle from Harry's lips.
As a final, almost-mocking dig at this transformation-slash-regeneration, even Harry's emerald-green eyes seemed to change: what had been emerald-green colouring, now transformed into a cold, powerful, but haunting shade of Protego Diabolica blue, like the Colour of Magic itself was shining in Harry's eyes.
No More BWL
With his new change completed, Harry finally stopped whistling; he also stopped walking, bringing himself – much to his amusement – to a stop right outside Number Four, where a light shone in the hallway while, to Harry's curiosity, he saw something that both amused and surprised him.
And that was the sight of his dearly-beloved godfather, Sirius Orion Black, standing in the doorway of Number Four, a look of alarm, disbelief and awe, as well as wonder, visible on his face as he looked at Harry, eyeing him up like a piece of meat, or more like someone who couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
'And he'll be only the first,' thought Harry, smiling amusingly before he winked at Sirius as he walked up the driveway, stopping next to his godfather as he hummed nonchalantly.
"So…either you're here because you're as insane as they say, since you'll be caught, or something's wrong and, for once, you and whoever else is here to do the right thing and finally get me the fuck out of Durzkaban: which is it, Sirius?"
Seconds later, as though answering Harry's question, Sirius wrapped his arms around his godson and sobbed like a little baby, holding the teenage boy close as he hugged the life and soul out of the most-important person in his life.
"Harry…" gasped Sirius, holding Harry close as he gasped through tears and pain, as well as relief. "I…I can't believe it; we…we heard you…you'd been Kissed by…by a Dementor…"
"Meh, not my type," drawled Harry, pushing himself free from Sirius as he asked, "So, who else is here? Let me guess? Red hair, hand-me-down robes, envy-riddled to the point of oozing it in his BO, secretly fancies Krum, gormless expression, has two handsome bastards for twin brothers, and an appetite to rival a black hole the size of Jupiter? Oh, and let's not forget about his in-the-closet shag partner: you know? The insufferable, nightmare, book-obsessed, authority-worshipping, Albus Dumbledore and Snivellus Snape's dicks-sucking, secretly dresses like a strict librarian and a nun with a bad habit of shushing others and thinking herself the new Goddess…oh, and Hates it, with a Capital H, when anyone else is better than her? How close am I?"
For a long moment, Sirius looked like he'd been told he was going to die in five seconds' time as he not only saw Harry show a clear lack of care or respect for his so-called friends, but, at the same time, show off a tongue and cussing nature that could have made the Pope blush.
After the moment passed, however, Sirius let out a soft laugh before he told Harry, "Actually…I'm here alone; everyone else is running around holding their dicks because we've heard you're…well…a soulless corpse near to death."
"Pfft, bitch, please," laughed Harry, turning to the house before he stepped inside as he explained, "They tried making me a sexy-as-all-Hell soulless corpse; Basilisks tried it, werewolves tried it, dragons tried it, merpeople tried it, Voldemort himself has tried it…oof…SO many times now."
Stopping on the other side of the doorway, Harry turned as he shrugged ruefully.
"Dying, being made soulless, being the little martyr…I mean, it's so first-year-through-fourth, Sirius Black; really, you know you should remember just who the fuck I am."
Sirius just stared blankly, while Harry smiled coyly.
"I'm Harry James Potter…the one, the only, and the best…and now, if you'd be so kind, dear dogfather, it's late, I'm tired, hungry, a little horny and, frankly, unless you're willing to experiment with godfather-on-godson pseudo-incest with me and, generally, worship my handsome, sexy ass like the temple it is, I think it's high time you were going…go on, Padfoot…walkies!"
While Sirius stared in abject disbelief, if not amusement and wonder, Harry flicked his wrist.
To Sirius' surprise, the door to Number Four closed with an audible bang, leaving Sirius out in the cold and the dark, with no idea what to think.
Well…except one thing.
'So…you're finally back, are you? Good on you, pup…see you again soon…'
Then, laughing to himself, Sirius turned on his heel and Apparated away, leaving Harry to do what his boy deserved to do right now.
Have some fun.
Wow, talk about WEIRD!
Harry is DEFINITELY NOT playing by their rules, with kid-gloves or singing from their song sheet anymore, but, if that's true, what is his plan for the rest of his life?
Also…huh?
Is it just me or does Sirius seem aware of Harry's True Self? If so…how?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: Ding Dong, the Little Bitch is Dead; which Little Bitch? Dudley the Little Bitch: Ding-Dong, the Little Bitch is Dead! Aww, what's wong, Dursweys? Don't you like the return of the True Harry James Potter? Well get used to it…and now, if you'll excuse him: Dudley's dead – or as good as – so Harry's got a party to plan: after all, it's a day he's waited for since…well, you probably don't remember when, do you, you stupid, inbred Muggle Freaks?
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