Unholy Flames

Summary: Harry Potter has powers. He's known since he "magically" grew his hair back. Curiosity leads to stumbling across the magical world, and Harry is not pleased. AU.

Prologue

"Sit still, boy!" Petunia shrieked, her dislike of the boy before her evident with every syllable.

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia." Harry replied, quite frightened. His Aunt and Uncle didn't beat him too much, but when they did, it hurt. He didn't want blackballs for voicing what he really wanted to tell her.

Several minutes passed, until Petunia declared she was done, and scurried off, most likely to catch one of her soap operas on television.

Disgruntled, Harry got looked to the mirror. He was horrified. He had no hair. No sign of his unorderly black hair. None.

'I'll get beat up even more at school even more now. Thanks for nothing, you freaking –"

Harry's train of thought was interrupted by a loud slam. Uncle Vernon was home. Following his initial shock, dread began to fill him. He always felt this way when Vernon got home, because Dursley's mood depended solely on his day at work, and a bad day for Vernon meant a bad back to Harry.

He exited the bathroom and walked quickly down the stairs. He couldn't see Vernon. Maybe he had left... His train of thought was once again interrupted, but by the sound of laughter. Swiftly turning around, he spotted Vernon. To his dismay, Vernon was laughing himself silly at Harry's haircut. Harry didn't feel so hungry anymore.

"May I go to my cupboard?"

"Go right ahead, boy. Hee hee..." Vernon said, smiling. At least he had caught him in a good mood.

Entering the filthy, dusty cupboard that had become his bedroom of sorts, he glared at the wall. He couldn't defend himself at all, and there seemed to be no light at the end of the tunnel. Shaking his head vigorously, Harry lied down on the row of pillows that had become his bed. He kept thinking of how he would be ridiculed the next day until he woke up.

'If only I had my old hair back...'

Unbeknowest to Harry, his body became cloaked in a harsh light...

Unholy Flames

Harry woke up feeling quite rested. Dismissing as him going to sleep early, Harry rushed to the shower and quickly bathed and clothed himself. He then sped to the kitchen to cook the Dursleys' breakfast. A typical day.

A half hour later, the Dursleys' arrived to the kitchen, all fully dressed for their day. They sat themselves and began eating. Since Harry wasn't welcome to indulge in the breakfast, he grabbed his schoolbag and left for school.

He couldn't stop thinking about how much more he would be teased. He arrived to his school in a daze, and noticed no one spared him a second glance, so he reached a hand out to his scalp. There was thick hair, but it had been slicked back to fall down the nape of his neck.

'How could I have missed that? That's bloody impossible!'

Try as he might, he couldn't come up with a rational argument. He could only assume he had unknowingly entered himself in some cult, and received magical talents (yeah, right). He decided to confront the Dursleys about it. He doubted he would be punished for asking a harmless question.

Once he was home, he saw Petunia in the living room watching a soap while the smell of roast beef engulfed the house. He decided to simply get the question of his chest.

"Aunt Petunia? I need to ask you a question." Harry inquired.

"Ask quickly, boy. I don't have all day." Petunia snapped.

He took a deep breath and asked "Am I magic?"

Blue eyes locked with his green eyes. He hadn't thought he'd receive a reaction.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Though she attempted to seem mildly interested, he had known her long enough to know she was surprised, and not pleasantly surprised.

"Well, as I'm sure you remember, you gave me a haircut yesterday," Harry said, gesturing towards his black hair, which had grown suprisingly tame. "I can't seem to think of a way it grew back yesterday besides magic.

"Go to your cupboard," Petunia bellowed, her blue eyes shining in outrage. " I don't want to see you!"

"You might prefer not to tell Vernon," Harry said, voice now cold. "I think we both know that if you hate magic, he must loath it. This conversation will stay between us, humm?"

Petunia was too shocked by the idea of Harry sticking up for himself to give any gesture that could be identified as affirmative or negative. She didn't say a word, even as Harry slammed the door to his cupboard shut.

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