Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan.

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

"I do not believe in a God of theology who rewards good and punishes evil." Albert Einstein, Great Scientist and Thinker

Potter

Chapter Six: The Punisher

By: Water Mage

The Grand White Gala was a huge affair, with literally hundreds of guests, most of whom wanted to attract attention. The festive event was held in the main ballroom located on the extensive grounds of the McKnight Estate. Guests walked amongst each other, looking ethereal in their white gowns and all white suits. A requirement for this affair was that clothing had to be white, hence the name of the gala. Soft, soothing music drifted through the halls of the mansion played by a band with instruments that sparkled in the light of the high-hanging chandelier. The guests paused in their conversations to admire the fountains that shot crystal, clear water into their air, rainbows glittering in their spray. Ice sculptures dotted the room glistening in the light as they melted slowly. An overall very impressive and expensive display, no one could say that Killian McKnight didn't know how to plan a party.

He was small in this dream. A child. Nine-year-old, Harry sat in a corner partially hidden by an ice sculpture of a beautiful goddess. Sighing, he tugged at the collar of his stiff white dress shirt. His white suit jacket bunched up at the elbows as he reached up to yank at the collar. Harry watched with bored green eyes as couples danced ballroom style, twisting and turning intricately upon the dance floor. Everyone wore smiles of delight as they wove around the room greeting friends and making new ones. Killian was a master in his art as he made sure that each guest was attended to and always had company to converse with. Harry knew that however happy his father appeared to be, he still was on guard around these people. Hell, Harry was too. He knew that those in the room were loyal to the McKnight's but that didn't prevent him from forgetting that everyone in this room were dangerous each in their own right. The people attending this gala weren't ordinary people they and their entourage made up the Empire.

All of the crime families loyal to the McKnight's accompanied by their guard were in attendance tonight. After all it wasn't nice to not attend an affair hosted by a guy who could wipe out you and everything you've worked for with but a word. Harry counted the major families and they were all here. Of course they would be, he mused. Killian was their leader. All the major families officially were known as the alpha kobols, while the other families were the lesser kobols. All together they were the Empire, lead solely by Killian 'Killer' McKnight, Master of London. Nobody, including illegal things got in or out of his city without him knowing about it. That's how far his power stretched. Everything got back to Killian. Everything.

Harry caught his father's eye and the older man gave him a wink. Todd and Dylan flanked either side of him, always a step away but otherwise within range. Harry realized this was a dream but he couldn't help but go through the motions, for this was a memory not just a figment of his own imagination. Harry knew what was about to happen he had lived through this before after all.

Suddenly a commotion was heard from the glass doors that opened outside to the gardens. Gasps and shouts of surprise came from the people near the commotion. The music from the band cut off promptly. The other guest including Harry and Killian who couldn't see what the fuss was about stood in their spots. Rule one hundred and seventy nine of staying alive was never go towards the startling noise. Just as they all noticed the noise a loud, echoing voice reverberated though the ballroom.

"Killian McKnight! You and I have unfinished business!"

The crowd parted and they were able to see who was the source of the disturbance. A young man with shocking white hair, not gray but white, dressed completely in black leather appeared in view. His chiseled face held a pair of midnight blue eyes that burned with an inner fire as he glared stonily at Killian. People would have already rushed this young man except for the fact that he held Darren Crawford, leader of the Triad alpha kobol, at gunpoint. A Beretta 9mm was held tightly in his hand pointing directly to Crawford's temple. It was not meant for wounding.

Killian's eyes widened surprise flashing over his normally controlled features. A name fell softly from his lips "Deacon Turner."

Deacon stared at Killian hatefully. A vein throbbed on his forehead as he glared with fire burning in his eyes. "I see you remember me arsehole!"

Todd and Dylan stepped closer to their master their guns drawn and ready once they had a clear shot or Killian simply gave the order to shoot, even with Darren Crawford in the line of fire. Harry could see that Crawford's own bodyguards, the well-known group nicknamed Hell's Knights, were itching to help their boss.

Killian gave Deacon a calm, measured look that seemed odd given the tense situation. "Of course I remember you. It wasn't two day's ago that my men put a bullet through your head. Still alive too. Pity."

Deacon sneered at the man eyes daring the surrounding guards to try anything. "You should have made sure I was dead. I promised myself a year ago that I would bring down your organization and I meant it. Too many people have died in the crossfire between you and rival leaders. Innocent people. My wife."

"So, what… Do you want an award? Guess what?" said Killian placidity. "I don't give a fuck."

Deacon cocked back the hammer on the gun, the action sounded louder than it should have in the quiet room. People watched to see what he would do. Darren Crawford was keeping his composure but all could see the beads of sweat that formed on his brow collecting together to run down his face in thin trails. Dull gray eyes were open and staring out meeting the eyes of his wife, who watched the entire scene with anger and fear swimming in her blue irises.

"I told you when we faced off that I would put a bullet in you some bright, sunshiny day," said Deacon his voice carrying through the room.

Harry's eyes swept to his father whose lips thinned and hands clenched tightly into fists. Anger. Oh yeah, Killian was officially pissed. Little Harry grinned turning his eyes back to Deacon. The other man was grinning too, but for different reasons. Harry knew what was about to happen to him, but Deacon thought that getting a reaction from Killian was funny. He didn't know just how wrong he was.

Killian stared the white haired man down. "Threats will not save you, Turner."

Deacon smiled sweetly. "You either, motherfucker."

That was all it took. Killian nodded his head then from all over the room there was flurry of instantaneous movement. Women reached into handbags or underneath their gowns to thigh holsters, men reached underneath white jackets to shoulder holsters or to the back of their pants. There was a series of clicks as almost a hundred or more guns were cocked. This all happened faster than someone could say the words Cinemax. Deacon blinked staring at all of the guns trained on him. Everyone in the room had a gun, women, men, hell even the band, and all of their sights were aimed on him. Darren reached back with his elbow, nailing Deacon in the gut knocking the air from his lungs. He wrestled from his grip, leaving Deacon in open sight. A monotone 'kill him' left the lips of Killian. Harry covered his ears as the people fired their guns delivering hot lead into the body of Deacon Turner. His eyes rolled back in his head as blood spurred from holes in his chest like geysers. The crimson liquid spit up from his lips trailing down the side of his mouth like thick drool.

The gunshots stopped when the body fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. The dream, child version of Harry moved closer just as he did when it actually happened. Blood ran from the body like it would never stop. There are roughly two gallons of blood in the human body. As much blood as they try to use in the movies it is never enough. Try dumping out two gallons of milk on your bedroom floor and see what a mess it makes, now multiply that by . . . something. Harry reached down touching his fingers to the warm, sticky blood. It was crimson contrasting sharply against the pale, whiteness of his fingers.

There was a smell that came from the blood. Harry knew the smell of fresh blood and what he currently smelled wasn't it. It smelled no way like blood… more like chocolate. Harry stared up in the dream for the first time realizing that he was indeed dreaming. The smell however was real.

Harry woke instantly, hand automatically reaching for the shortsword that was attached to the wall above his headboard. He moved without thinking only going on reflex as his hand gripped the handle of his blade. The sword easily slipped from its scabbard cutting through the air, held in Harry's sure steady grip. The tip of the blade halted in the air, an inch away from pale flesh of Kevin Entwhistle. Kevin gulped, eyes wide golden blond hair fallen forgotten onto his face. He stared down horrified at the sight of the sword that was an inch away from slicing his throat. A chocolate bar, bigger than a fist, once held in his grip clattered to the floor, breaking into pieces.

"Holy shit!"

Harry's heart was thudding in his throat, slowly he set down his blade to look across the room. Terry Boot stood at his bedside half-dressed, shirt gone but pants on gawking. His black hair was already gelled and styled expertly into spikes he sported last night at the feast. Laying down Deathdealer, Harry took a look around the room. The three other boys, Anthony, Stephen and Michael were already gone to breakfast judging by their made up beds. That only left Terry, Harry and Kevin still in the room and currently engaged in the staring contest. Kevin stepped back smartly out of the swords reach. Harry sighed brushing back a stray lock of hair that had fallen onto his face. He tucked it behind his ear and gave what he hoped was a reassuring look. It seemed to work because the two boys let out the breaths they were holding.

Harry turned his gaze to Kevin, communicating with his eyes how apologetic he was. "Sorry."

Kevin smiled a shaky smile. "No problem. I didn't mean to… scare you."

Harry inwardly scowled at the word scared. He wasn't scared. Just rightly cautious. You didn't sneak up on members of the Empire. Especially while they were sleeping. Harry heard stories of how people had lost their lives because of surprising a member of the Empire. It just wasn't something you did. The Ravenclaws didn't know this fact but after today, Harry bet they would from now on.

"Um… So what's with the sword?" asked Terry throwing on his shirt, buttoning it while looking at Harry.

Kevin nodded in agreement. "You pulled it out so fast, so I'm guessing you study martial arts."

"Yeah," answered Harry, leaving off the fact what kinds of martial arts he actually studied. Couldn't have them too much into his business. "I do study. The sword was a gift from my teachers."

"Everyone already went down to breakfast. We're late risers," said Terry, changing the subject. He could sense how awkward the situation had made them.

Harry was grateful for the opportunity to change topics. He engaged the boys in conversation throwing back the comforter. For the first time Harry noticed Kevin's eyes. He couldn't believe he hadn't before. They were a very light lavender. Lilac if he had to pick a specific color, a definite showstopper they were. They boys talked about the one thing that was on their mind as they got ready for the day. Classes. They were nervous more than anxious to face the day each wondering how they would do magical talent wise. Harry finished doing up the knot of his tie in the bathroom that was connected to the room. A long mirror rested against the wall and a counter top with three sinks was stationed right below the mirror. Shower stalls with opaque doors lined the wall furthest from the door and toilet stalls stood right next to the showers. He took a deep breath stepping back to fully look himself over in the mirror. The Hogwarts uniform consisted of black slacks, dark shoes (preferably black), and white dress shirt with tie. A sleeveless gray sweater vest went over the white shirt and the standard black robe went over the whole outfit.

Harry looked at the new crest that adorned his robe. It was on the right side directly over his heart. He touched a finger to the silver and blue patch. On the crest was a black raven in flight directly underneath etched in flowing script was Ravenclaw. Harry walked out of the bathroom into the dormitory where Kevin and Terry were just finished getting ready.

"Hey guys," asked Harry, still running his finger over the crest. "I know that I bought standard black robes and the ones I bought didn't have this crest here."

Kevin shrugged a grin on his face. "Its magic, mate. Things like that happen all the time around here."

"We'll it better be free, I'm not paying fucking extra. Expensive as it is already," muttered Terry, placing his earring in his left ear. It was a small, silver Christian cross.

Harry caught the flinch that came from Kevin when he glimpsed the religious item. Harry didn't ponder it for Terry picked up his wand asked if they were ready to go. They walked down the spiral staircase and out of the common room that had a few people sitting around talking. They exited the common room from the mirror then set off finally stopping when they got to the end of the hallway.

Kevin rubbed the back of his head looking sheepish. "Anyone remember how to get to the Great Hall?"

That set them into a groaning fit. Of course they didn't remember.

They never made it to breakfast. The school was a fucking maze. Harry decided that if he ever invented a time machine his first trip would be to go back to day Hogwarts was built. Whichever Founder suggested the idea of moving staircases would get a bullet right through the fucking head. The staircases, all of them were impossible. Either they were too narrow, too rickety, missing a step, or just plain not there. Harry had forgot about that one simple fact. The staircases of Hogwarts moved. It was of course in Hogwarts, A History but that didn't prepare one for actually finding them selves suddenly on a staircase that had the nerve to start moving while one was in mid step. During the great adventure to find the Great Hall the boys laughed at everything finding the entire situation funny. Being in a new foreign place and finding a person who can stand to be around you and they laugh at your jokes is the things friendships are made of. Kevin suddenly gave a yelp and tripped, landing square on his face. Terry and Harry cracked up laughing. Oh yeah, a real bonding experience.

"There you boys are."

They spun around facing the voice. Harry's hand instinctively went to his arm where his knife was sheathed. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding seeing who the person was. It was Lady Morgana in all her spectral glory. Her bare feet didn't touch the ground, instead her translucent body floated a foot above the floor. Harry could actually see through her. A suit of armor stood directly behind her. Creepy. Very, very, creepy.

Lady Morgana smiled at them like a teacher would a student. "Professor Flitwick, that's your head of house, was looking for you three at breakfast. He was handing out timetables. Since you weren't there he wanted me to give them to you." She snapped her fingers and three slips of paper fell from nowhere right above their heads. They fluttered down dropping into their respective owner's open hands.

Harry looked to her curiosity written all over his face. "How did you do that? I didn't know ghosts had that kind of power."

Morgana just smiled mysteriously and floated away through the wall of the corridor beside them. The bell rang signaling the end of breakfast. The rumbling of footsteps, sounding like the booming of thunder made them conclude that it was now time for classes to start. They watched as from either side of the corridor came the sound of hundreds of footsteps. The next moment students were crashing into the passage from both ends. Harry glanced at his timetable and frowned, reading what was the first class of the day.

"We have Defense Against the Dark Arts, first," said Terry, smiling. "I wonder what we'll do. It sounds like a real fun class. At least the name does."

Harry personally didn't think so. He knew who taught the class. The same man who gave off the non-human vibe was the teacher and Harry wasn't looking forward to being in the same class as Professor Quirrell. There was something about him… a darkness surrounding him. It was threatening. It was… evil… and it could feel Harry the same way he felt it.

'Fuck!' Harry swore in his mind, walking with Terry and Kevin down the corridor. 'Why do I have the feeling like that bastard wants to rip out my throat.'

For the first time Harry become aware of the other kids in the hallway. So caught up in his own musing he hadn't noticed them. The students weren't even subtle about their staring, pointing, or whispering. Harry had very good hearing so he happened to catch quite a few of their conversations.

"I can't believe that's Harry-fucking-Potter!"

"No, right there. The one in the middle. You can't miss that scar."

"I always figured he would be taller. You know taking out the Dark Lord and all."

"You think he remembers anything?"

Harry's green eyes flashed with anger. Without his glasses they seemed even brighter then they usually did with the specs covering them. Terry and Kevin stood on both side of Harry glaring at whoever stared or pointed their way. Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from cussing out all the staring teens. He took deep breaths calming down, mentally counting to ten inside his head. It wouldn't do for their savoir to go off on those he saved. He did have to smile at Terry and Kevin for people he had just met they were awfully protective. Their hostile glares reminded him of his father's own personal bodyguards, Todd and Dylan the Angels of Death, commanders of the Archangels.

"Don't let those assholes get to you, Harry," said Kevin, shooting the finger to a girl whom was pointing at Harry like he wasn't even there, talking at the top of her lungs.

Harry couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips seeing Kevin flick that girl off. It wasn't that he hated being famous. He was used to stares considering whom his father was, but the conversations and worshipful looks bordering on awe was unnerving. He either had to get used to it or go crazy with an AK high-powered rifle and kill everybody in the joint. A smile definitely came to his face at that thought.

"Hey, there goes Anthony," said Kevin.

Sure enough they saw Anthony and their other fellow Ravenclaws filing into a classroom. The Defense Against the Dark Arts room. They trailed along leading the back of the line. Harry just followed the crowd then once inside he made sure to choose a seat in the middle of the room at angle so he could always see the door. Never sit with your back to the door was a rule that had been drilled into his head since childhood. Harry took the time to glance around. It was very large, rectangular with various supernatural paraphernalia littering the room. Garlic hung from the ceiling filling the room with its strong smell. Other objects like stuffed dead animal heads hung from the walls, moving pictures of dangerous creatures stuck to the ceiling, and the windows were curtained letting the light barely into the room. Golden oblongs of sunshine that did pass through the thin curtains lay heavy on a dusty, stone floor. Harry had to breathe through his mouth because the smell in the room was so strong, but that didn't help much. The smell just stuck to the roof of his mouth like bad candy.

"You guys ready?" asked Padma Patil who sat behind them.

Since it was three to a table, Morag McDougal and Su Li sat on either side of her. They flashed smiles of anticipation waiting for Professor Quirrell to show up. Harry didn't see what was so smile worthy. The fact that Professor Quirrell was possessed or the fact that he was evil. It really wasn't looking too good either fact. For reassurance Harry touched his sheathed knives on his arms. He felt safer but not much. The feeling of overpowering evil he sensed last night still registered fresh in his mind.

'I wonder what Dad is going to say when I tell him?' thought Harry.

Harry suddenly straightened in his seat, eyes narrowing as they stared at the door. A wave of dread flooded him, from inside. He didn't know how he was suddenly sensing these things but they felt normal, apart of him. A feeling in his gut told him that it was normal. He shook his head dragging himself from his thoughts. The door opened and Professor Quirrell walked in flashing them a nervous smile. In his hands was his wand and a briefcase that had papers sticking out from its closed lid. He strode toward his desk in long steps then in mid step he gave a yell and tripped landing face first on the ground. The students didn't know whether to laugh or fell sorry for the Professor. Blushing a cheery red, Professor Quirrell stood up collecting his things and sat them on his desk with a loud clatter.

'This is the man I'm sensing evil from? I must either be crazy or he's a real good actor.' Harry stared at the blushing man completely dumbfounded. A quiet gasp of surprise left his lips as he unconsciously reached out with whatever new senses he had to the man. Harry could see it in his mind eye. His new senses reached out like a quiet wind, little tendrils of energy floating across the room, searching and touching. They, the energy or whatever it was, probed Quirrell and he could feel it…

Hate. Power. Desperation . . . and Death. So much death.

'Fuck crazy, he's a real good actor.'

Harry stared at Quirrell in new light barely muttering a present as he took the roll. He gulped at Harry's name giving the boy a lingering look. To everyone else it looked like a bit of star struck or hero worship. But Harry wasn't fooled he could almost see a flash of red in the depths of his eyes before he blinked missing it. Terry shared a look with Kevin moving his eyes to Harry in a hidden 'look at him' gesture. Terry looked seeing the focused gaze the Boy Who Lived wore. He followed the stare directly to Professor Quirrell.

"I'm fine, guys," spoke Harry quietly, making them both jump. He gave them a look. "I'm just paying attention, is all. Nothing to worry about."

Quirrell clapped his hands together taking his time to gaze around the room. "S-s-so class, this is Defense Agaisnt the D-D-ark Arts," he said softly his stutter very noticeable with his light voice. "T-t-t-throughout the year we will learn what exactly counts as Black Magic and what goes in the category of the Dark Arts. F-f-first I'll tell you a little about myself. I'm Professor Quintein Quirrell. I-I-I-I have extensive knowledge of this subject. My ski-skills have helped a lot of people. O-once in Africa a prince of a small village gave me this turban as gift for getting rid of a particularly nasty zombie."

Mandy Broklehurst a red head girl with braces stuck her hand into the air. He nodded at her and she spoke so the whole class heard. "Are you a Necromancer, sir?" she asked eagerly. "I thought only an Animator or Necromancer could lay a zombie back to rest."

Quirrell flushed. "No, I'm not either one. I simply set the zombie on fire with a spell. That was easy compared to the vampires I've killed."

The whole class except for Harry was entranced. He simply rolled his eyes practically tasting the lies. At the word vampires they sat up even more, practically hanging on his words.

"Vampires?" asked Anthony Goldstein. "How did you kill them, sir? I've heard they can bench press cars."

"I've heard they can hypnotize people with their eyes."

"I heard they can fly."

Quirrell's face washed over with nervousness. He began to stutter. Bad. They couldn't even hear the words he was saying he was stuttering so badly. All over the room the Ravenclaws gave each other eye rolls. They understood now. Quirrell was a complete and utter liar. That was the moment they decided Defense Agaisnt the Dark Arts was nothing more than a joke. They zoned out as Quirrell completely changed the subject going on about the stars and then the weather. He face was pink as he babbled on and on about complete nonsense. Harry narrowed his eyes at the Professor. What was he trying to pull? He could feel the power rolling off the man so why was he pretending to be this mild mannered Clark Kent wannabe. Two hours later they climbed down the stairs, leading down to the Great Hall. Other students were streaming towards the doors also, the smell of lunch urging them on.

"Well that was a waste of time," said Terry, munching on a piece of gravy soaked toast.

Kevin nodded in agreement. "Tell me about it. I wanted to take my wand and stick it into my brain to put myself out of misery."

Harry smiled, letting the tension that had come from Quirrell's presence slowly leave him. "Or you could have taken it and shoved it in Quirrell's brain."

Terry and Kevin laughed, Terry accidentally spitting bits of biscuits onto the table. Harry smiled along with them. On the inside he was nowhere near smiling. He cast a hidden look to the Teachers Table where Quirrell sat fiddling with the edge of his turban. He stabbed his fork into his sandwich thinking:

'Who said I was fucking kidding.'

Harry turned as someone slid into the seat beside him. He caught a flash of blond hair and familiar smile before he was caught up in a huge hug. "I didn't get a chance to tell you congrats last night, Harry."

"Hello to you too, Riley," said Harry his voice muffled, because his face was dug into her shoulder.

Terry licked his index finger smoothing down his dark eyebrows. He fixed his tie before fixing his mouth into a decidedly dangerous smile. "So Harry who is your friend?"

Kevin and Harry looked at each other then to Riley. They all caught the soft, almost purr Terry had put into his voice. Riley blinked not sure if she was actually hearing and seeing what she thought she was. Catching a look from Harry she guessed right.

"I'm Riley…. You are?"

Terry licked his lips slowly, leering at her. "I'm Terry Boot. Your future boyfriend hopefully soulmate. So, what's your sign?"

Riley raised a thin blond eyebrow. That was decidedly the worst pickup line she had ever heard. Not to mention how bad it sounded coming from an eleven-year-old. The only conclusion she could come with was… Terry had an older brother. "My sign…" she smiled giddily. Riley paused for a single moment thinking, then suddenly her face lost all expression. "Unavailable."

"Well, fuck," pouted Terry.

Kevin grinned slyly. "Which is precisely what won't be happening."

Riley rolled her eyes turning to Harry. "What class do you have next?"

"Double Potions with the Hufflepuffs," replied Harry, not even bothering to look at his timetable. He had memorized what classes he had for today.

Riley drew back a dark look coming over her face. "Snape," she hissed. Immediately she gave Harry a look of pity. "Poor you. Harry whatever you do check your attitude at the door because that man is Hades incarnate. If men could have PMS he would be the spokesman."

"So, I'm thinking its not wise to cross him?" asked Harry.

Riley nodded her quickly. "Damn right. The man is crazy. He really hates Gryffindors, favors Slytherins, and just plain hates the rest of the student body."

"I'll keep that in mind…"

He did too. Harry sat in the drafty dungeons of the potions classroom waiting with his peers for the Professor to arrive. They sat at tables that went four to a table. There were two columns of tables with eight tables in each column. The windows were long with heavy appearing shutters that were at this time wide open, letting in plenty of light into the huge room. All around the wall in dusty shelves were jarred animal parts and creepy, glowing vials. Whispers of conversations floated through the space keeping the noise of the room at a dull roar. Everyone was throwing in their speculations of what they thought Professor Snape was going to be like. It seems that they all in the room had heard bad things of Snape and no one, not a single person was actually looking forward to today's lesson.

Bang!

They all snapped their heads toward the loud disturbance. In strode Professor Severus Snape through the door his black cloak swishing behind him as if he commanded it to. All eyes in the room followed the man. Which was precisely what he was going for. Idly, Harry wondered if the guy had a thing for theatrics. The scowl on his face only added to his villain like performance. Snape moved to the front of the class standing before them stiller than any statue. His eyes were the only thing that moved and they slowly scanned their young faces, memorizing every line and curve of their face. Harry kept his smile from showing on his face by instead directing his gaze down at the table. It was just really too much. The whole performance just screamed 'Hey! I was picked on in High School but look at me now!'

Snape's attire was a black robe with a matching black cloak clasped at his neck. His boots were black also, along with his hair that fell to his shoulders curling slightly right above where they hit. His hair might have been pretty if he washed it but the greasiness of it was just too much. Then like a bad robot not fit to even be an extra in a sci fi movie he began to talk. His voice was monotone, low, spoken softly so they had to strain their ears to hear what he said.

"I am Professor Snape. Here you will learn the complex, ancient art of potion making. I don't expect all of you to pass my class since it takes steady hands and a sharp mind to brew potions, which I'm sure many of you, lack one or both of these qualities. I will not tolerate any disobedience, child play, or any unnecessary talking. This class is not about foolish wand waving but about art, skill." Silence filled the room no one knew whether to clap or start taking notes. Snape went to his desk, picking up a scroll he unrolled it and began to read off names for attendance. At Harry's name he actually had a smart comment to make.

"Hmm… Harry Potter," he said softly. "The boy savior has finally decided to grace Hogwarts with his presence."

Harry kept his face blank not letting his internal emotions be expressed. 'What the fuck?!'

Kevin glared at Snape his eyes looking like two glowing lilacs. He and Terry both stared at the Professor icily. The three of them had bonded during their time today. A connection had formed between them that would strengthen over time. They hadn't shared any deep dark fears or secrets but the act of standing up for one another made them close. An act of protecting a friend is something that is not taken likely and forgotten.

Snape finished the roll then spun around facing Harry. He stared into Harry's eyes and he met the gaze head on. Harry found himself swimming in those eyes. On first glance one would think that Snape's eyes are inky black but that is not the case. In fact, Snape's eyes are blue. There are just so dark that they look black. Harry felt himself feeling light headed the intense stare of the Professor seemed to have an actual affect on him physically. Harry fought off the feeling, mentally slapping himself from the daze. 'Please don't tell me this motherfucker is physic.'

"Potter!" snapped Professor Snape. Harry wondered if the man could read minds. "I've been calling your name for the past minute. Has fame gone to your head that you can't answer to your own name? Or do you just go by the Boy Who Lived?"

Harry saw red the insults cutting deep. He could almost feel something inside of him snap, as his rage and anger burst free like a damn had been removed. He stood up quickly his chair scraping along the stone floor as it slid back colliding with the table behind him. He was so tired of it all. The stares, whispers, the creepy new senses he picked up from nowhere. The stress had built up and Professor Snape just had to be the kid at the zoo who poked the dangerous, sleeping tiger with a stick. The tiger just woke up…

"Don't talk to me like that," said Harry his head bowed low, hands clenched tightly into fist. "That's your last fucking warning. The next time I won't warn you."

The room was bathed in silence. The only sounds came from their breathing. Everyone looked from Snape to Harry seeing who would win this battle. Terry made a move as to stand up but Anthony who sat beside him grabbed his sleeve shaking his head. Snape crossed his arms over his chest his sneer still fixed into place as if screwed on.

"Are threatening to harm me, Potter?" asked Snape in a dangerously soft voice.

Harry let all emotion drain from his face and he finally looked up at Snape, giving him a glimpse of what he was up against. Harry detached himself from all emotions. This was his warrior mode if he had a weapon in hand he wouldn't have blinked twice at having the blood of Severus Snape on his hands. This look meant pure death… It was the same look that sent chills into the hearts of some of the ruling clans… the look he saw in Killian McKnight. There was coldness in Harry's eyes. Behind the cold there was darkness waiting to be unleashed. No soul would be the first words that came to mind if one were to look directly into his green irises.

Professor Snape shuddered inwardly at the chilling look. He had never seen such a frightening expression on a child. The last person who could look that way had disappeared from the face of the Earth ten years ago. Lord Voldemort was long gone but why did Snape suddenly feel like he was looking right into the eyes of his long dead master…

Snape pointed a shaking hand toward the door. "Go. The Headmaster's office! Now!"

Harry walked slowly from the room his face still devoid of all emotion. Stepping into the corridor free of the confines of the potions room, Harry leaned against the wall a sigh leaving his lips. He closed his eyes breathing a deep breath. He calmed himself mentally reigning his anger in shoving it back into the dark recesses of his mind. He slammed it shut inside a vault knowing that it wouldn't take much to set him off again. Hopefully the urge to kill something wouldn't accompany the next rage mode.

'Why does shit always happen to me?!' He looked up and began walking forward then stopped suddenly in his trek. 'Fuck! Where in the hell is the Headmaster's office!'