So now it's time for a little Eli/Harry intro.

No one's mentioned it directly but some people seem a bit confused in their reviews about Harry's name and situation, allow me to explain. Potter was his birth name, when Lily used an unforgiveable to control James's actions she made him cast Harry out of the Magical Bloodline, effectively taking his last name away. He was named once by each of his fathers, blood-and-magic of course, as part of the ritual. Eli by Severus, Charlus by The unrevealed daddy and Arcturus in accordance with Black tradition. Lily gave him James for a last name out of guilt, her last kind act for his sperm donor daddy.

In reality, or the wizarding world as it were, his name is fully Charlus(Unnamed) Eli(Snape) Arcturus(Sirius) James(Lily) Black(Sirius) Prince(Snape's magical heritage) and Unknown as yet Dark Pureblood name.

If thats to confusing... well i'm referring to him as Eli to distance him from former Harry preconceptions.

Into the mind of my lovely. Don't worry about his push-overness right now, i promise one day he will be the epitome of Powerful/Dark Harry.

A/N:

Updated 11/19/13

Eli's Beginning.:

1984-

It was his birthday, he knew that. He'd been told so by the lady with the smiling eyes. Three she had said.

She was a very calm woman, not overly emotional like the babies around him. She had the softest skin the color of tea with lots of milk. Sometimes late at night when it was the two of them in his small room, she would pick him up and wrap him in blankets and hum, holding him to her side.

Her hair was long and wiry, and her clothes were odd. Long flowing dresses and cloaks and tall boots sometimes. Other times she dressed like the sisters at the orphanage, rough wool smocks and a veil over her hair all in black.

Sometimes she appeared to him in the daytime as a big blond lady, with skin like his own but much redder, like she'd stayed in the sun too long. Her words were different then and her body much bigger.

But her eyes never changed. They were a warm reddish brown. A color he didn't have a name for. And her eyes... They seemed so much more than the eyes of the others in the orphanage.

he asked her about it once, why her eyes were different. She'd smiled, seeming pleased that he was so clever to ask. She told him that it was because she was other than anyone else he'd ever met. And that was all she would ever say.

When she looked at him it almost made him feel like the other kids didn't matter, just like she told him. The softest brown eyes burned him with a fierce happiness he wanted beyond reason.

And her eyes weren't the only thing that made her stand out in his mind. She was so different from everyone else.

They all called him boy, or child. The adults at least. Some of the older kids called him a freak. He wasn't sure what that meant, not really. But when they said it they were pushing him into the dirt or taking away a toy he had recently found. They sisters weren't nice to him at all. They had so many rules, don't touch, don't eat, don't do this. He was forever doing things to annoy the sisters, like making noises or bleeding too freely from a scrape where he'd fallen to the shove of another child.

But the Lady with the Smiling Eyes called him Eli. He wasn't sure if that was his name or not, but the Lady gave him food and sang to him about beautiful places far away. She even let him eat, or come out of the cupboard when he was being punished. She was like a safe place to go and always there. It reminded him of something, he would always catch a glimpse, fiery red and cool black. A strange sense of belonging. But it was gone by morning as The Lady was long gone and he was left alone again.

1987-

"Eli?" The form of a small African-Irish woman called out softly as she stroked the cherubic cheek of the sleeping boy on the bed before her. The bed, much like the closet space it was in, were entirely too dingy and small for the boy, who at six was growing more uncomfortable in the room by the day.

"Eli" she tried again, careful not to jostle him. Startling him awake had led to his injury more than once before.

The black haired boy was startled and cried out sharply as his breath came in pants and he slammed himself as far into the corner of the bed and wall as he could.

The woman looked on sympathetically, so the boy presumed, as his bright-as-fire green eyes slowly let the fear leak out. "Another one?" was all she asked, not bothering to move forward or offer help in any way, he would not take it.

A jerky nod was his response as he worked his way out of the Cupboard, carefully maneuvering himself to not allow for touch, accidental or no. "Blinding green flashes, lots of pleas and the hysterical woman being held down by someone. Same."

The woman gave no sign of having heard outwardly, but inside she could feel an inkling of pride at the emotionless tone Eli's voice had whispered in and sneering disdainfully at the reference, wholly unknowingly, to the weak Lilly Potter. But the she refocused, the boy now walked in front of her and she noticed a faint uneasiness as he walked.

His gait was usually strong, while he looked down and was entirely submissive he usually held himself up better. He was walking with a distinct hunching of his shoulders. She struck a hand out and spun him effortlessly, looking to his chest. Rust colored stains were seeping at the worn white shirt he had buttoned up.

Whit a wave of her hand she vanished the shirt revealing the source. In bold shaky letters the words don't tell lies had been carved into the alabaster flesh of the angelic six year old, with a depth and precision no child could manage. He had his shoulders hunched almost sulkily so the cuts didn't stretch and tare the tender scabs.

The macabre words were carved one on top of the other, don't situated right below his collar bone and lie's touching the indent that was his navel. The letters were of uneven depth, but for certain they would scar, magic could not even seal them seamlessly.

Not that she would have offered.

Through the years she was quite pleased to note the boy was heartily neglected and actively abused, clinging to her nightly presence as a mother and savior. All she could have wished for and more. But the child was soft. He did not defend. He did not avenge. He would not manipulate and despite all attempts to draw him out, he would not question her use of magic.

But tonight, with this new development, this exposed venerability, maybe the last step in sealing his fate in hard hearted stone might be put into play.

She had never been a good actor so she conjured him a new clean shirt and said in the softest voice she could manage "Eli, when will this stop?"

She hoped the subtle reprimand would stick in his mind as the new day dawned. Maybe he would cling to the idea of ceasing the ill treatment in her name, a way to vindicate her life and her absence. He would certainly become a bitter hurtful young man with none to turn to. And she would be sure to manipulate as long as she could behind the scenes that he was indeed all alone.

She released him and began to walk away. Pretending not to notice as he took a few moments to come up beside her. In the periphery of her sight she saw his hand creep forward to clutch her own, she allowed the contact for a time, until the two reached the doors that led to the exit of the building, under the pretense of opening the door she jerked her hand from his.

Because he was useful she tolerated him. Because he was the future of her kind, she let things go. But this sniveling had to stop. He would be useless turning in the pureblood circles if he couldn't dance the dances with any skill.

So she would force him into a mask. If he couldn't fend off petty little muggles intent on belittling him how would he survive Against hardened, trained pure blood heirs? So she was justified by the light even. After all, the circumstances as they were, he was a dark wizard, she hadn't even had to corrupt the boy or force him to perform the soul spells To change his alignment. No his parents had conveniently given over their child to the dark before he had a choice.

He would grow into a scion of all that was dark.

Three Pureblood sires.

And all the power that had been forced into him through the Arcane Rituals that blessed him with the most deliciously Avada Kevadara eyes.

Oh yes he was one of hers.

She led the boy on their usual nightly walk, down the twisted dirty lane unto the Childs play park for the orphans. He loved the rusted out swings. He never spoke of it but she knew he hated the other boys and girls for being allowed out into the world, allowed to play on the swing set. She had seen as much from his mind and her own observations.

The potential for hate was there, just buried. In any other circumstance she might have even admired his ability to persevere over the baser emotions of anger and hate.

The two would normally sit in silence him swinging and her leaning against the poleS of the swing. He liked silence, which was fortunate for her, talking would have been overly tedious. Normally reinforcement onto him that she was, was good enough.

But tonight she called out to her familiar. Tonight was the night for action. The boy would see her brutally murdered and tortured before his eyes, wander back to the orphanage and hate. Yes tonight was perfect.

Sitting on the worn out swing Eli himself was in terrible pain but he would never give up his nights with the Dark Lady, as she had told him to call her years ago when he realized what names were. He would be ok, the pain wasn't so bad. The words hurt worse than a fist ever could anyway. He did not lie. The Lady showed him magic every night! It was real.

But the Nun's had not believed him. The older children had hissed and called him a freak. They pushed him and dropped things in his way. They were cruel.

But when he was caught with a small glittering green snake curled in his palm that was the last straw. Sister Aggie had been furious. She yelled and yelled and raved about sinners and hell and the devil. He told her, he was talking to it, the snake was nice. It was magic.

And then she had told him to remove his shirt and stand very still or he would be in his cupboard without food for a month. He wasn't sure but he thought a month without food would kill him, as it was a few days left him weak.

So he stood very still.

Even as she came up to him with a very sharp knife. It had a glittering silver edge with a glossy black hilt. She began cutting the letters. She told him as, she carved the words, about how snakes were evil; the devil was a snake she said. He wasn't sure on the details of her words because he was distracted.

He was watching the slice the knife made into his delicate skin. How the blade parted his flesh and glowing rubies manifested cascading down his chest. The warmth of the sting that flowed right behind her work.

It was sick.

He knew that. As much as a six year old boy could know anything of the world.

But he liked the sight.

He always liked blood.

And pain.

And screams.

Not his own, he knew that, and he knew that was wrong as well. He never caused others harm, not intentionally, but he liked what he saw when someone fell down, when they cried. It wasn't normal. But he wasn't normal. To this point he had always thought of that as a rather bad thing. But what if it wasn't? What if there was a whole world of people out there like him? That enjoyed suffering?

His pitiful musings' were interrupted when he heard a scream. Ironic that.

The Dark Lady was on her feet and she was yelling at a man who looked like what the sisters called a vagrant. He was dressed in scruffy nasty clothing and he had a knife too.

The Dark Lady looked scared.

"Stop! Stand back man! Stay away from the child! Hurt me not him! Please!"

It struck Eli that she was defending him. A warm rush flooded his body. No one defended him. But then he was lost as the man wacked her on the side of the face and laughed cruelly as she went down. The man fallowed.

Another kind of warmth flooed his senses as he watched the knife bury itself deep into the Dark Lady's' flesh. It was like the pleasure he felt riding him when Sister Aggie carved the words. but more. So much more.

The man made shallow cuts and carved at her face and stomach and legs. The pool of blood glittered around her in a circle of death. Her life, he thought absently absorbed in the man's work. Oh yes he liked it. Her screams had dwindled to quite wordless sobs. Distantly he was proud she never pleaded for her life. Only for his life.

And then it was over. The man plunged the knife, sharper, bigger, a better planed tool than the one used on him, into her chest. He stood and left. Eli noticed that. He was frozen for a moment, not sure what to do with all the sensations he was feeling before he shot towards the Dark Lady.

In the rush of joy he had forgotten somehow. Forgotten that she was his tentative link to reality and real joy. A shield from everyone that hated him.

She couldn't die.

He stopped at her body. He knelt shakily and looked in her face. Her once smiling eyes flicked a moment as they caught his and then they dimmed. He was conflicted as he registered that this was it, she was dead.

He felt a purely unadulterated joy as her hot blood soaked into the fabric of his night pants and thin shirt. Watched her soul go from the body. As he soaked up her utter helplessness and pain.

But he also felt despair. Loss. Loneliness. It wasn't surreal. He had known that she would go away eventually. She had said she wasn't going to be able to save him. He had just thought he had time. And now he did not.

He also felt some unfamiliar emotion roiling up in him. Something hot and burning, and icy and liquid at the same time. His veins were bursting with it. It held back his tears. He wanted the man who had done this to die.

He remembered the Dark Lady's last words to him.

"When will it stop?"

The words surrounded and inscrolled him.

"Stay away from the child!"

Stop.

"Hurt me, not him!"

It would stop now.

"please"

He was different.

He wouldn't let his Dark Lady's sacrifice be in vain, he would never forget this night. At six years old he made a vow known only to him in the heavy night air. He vowed that he would make himself worthy in the eyes of his one protector and friend. He would not let the others treat him like nothing again.

StarGuide2011