This is just a Prologue, I got this idea and just had to run with it. This is slash, and a creature!fic of sorts, but it'll be a few chapters in before we start seeing interactions between the pairing so I think I'll avoid telling the who harry is with for the time being for those of you who like surprises, if you don't like not knowing however, feel free to PM me and I'll be happy to fill you in :).

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or make money off this story.

Tense hands, suntanned and scarred, slowly applied the last of the oil to their owner's collarbones. The entire body of the man lay out, naked as the day it was born, glistening from similar treatment and utterly still. Everything other than arms and neck was covered, including the skin around dark emerald eyes the left of which was held open while the right was held closed. The room was dark around its edges, although the center was illuminated with many candles, each of which smelled of a rich cinnamon, cloying the air with their aroma. The atmosphere was thick with intent and the energy of the ritual being performed, slowly and with precision despite the rush and the need the situation truly called for. This part must be done right; rushing forward with a foolish head would not work with this type of magic, for the dark was not as forgiving as its counterpart.

Next, the figure picked up an object from the bowl beside it, the embers inside hissing as they were disturbed. He gripped the covered handle, the tiny tip glowing white-blue with magic and heat, the air growing thicker. Slowly the man brought the object to his hip, gritting his teeth before willing himself into submission, granting his magic permission to harm himself rather than heal and protect. The intent was the most important in these steps, for that is where the strength came from. Weak-willed people would never be able to attempt such, and the ritual would mock the caster with a truly gruesome end after it was completed if you were not worthy. Such was the nature of the cruel temptress dark magic was.

Once his resolve was firm, the raven haired one brought the tip down, beginning to painstakingly mark parallel lines into his scarred flesh. He began at his left hip, than created a mirror image on the right hipbone. The smell of burnt flesh and dark magic began to permeate the air as he drew an intricate design around his navel, the hours upon hours of practicing these exact designs in marker upon his flesh paying off as he did not mess up despite the awkward position. Slowly he began to work himself into a trance, one part of his mind playing the willing sacrifice, offering its body up to magic, the other part being the tool of magic itself, getting the offering ready to receive magic's will.

He made his way up the right side, the path of symbols curving over the defined pectoral muscles and finishing its trial between the two collarbones. Sweat dotted the flesh now, mixing with wounds spelled against cauterization that bled freely across his skin, hand aiming to place the last rune on the closed eyelid of his right eye.

The magic became oppressive at this point, making moves slow and sluggish as if the atmosphere itself had gathered in this room to witness the end. As the design was finished and blood began to slowly pool in the indent of the closed lid he began to chant. Guttural words speaking of the offering, of the acceptance of any price, than the most important part came. A reason honest and given freely.

Dark magic wouldn't work for just anyone, it must deem your purpose worthy and wouldn't simply reward sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice. As such, as he whispered the last words, words that spoke of the abuse of magic in the world. He spoke of the need to get rid of the raging battle so things could be righted to how they should be once again.

He couldn't be sure that his offering would be accepted, but once he was done he waited and hoped magic had heard.

Magic was indeed in the room, and magic deemed the reason acceptable. He got a response of whispered words, sensual and feminine, inside his ear. The terms, to save magic, to restore the true balance not of good and bad, but to return dark magic to its proper place as part of society. She was angry, the voice hissed, for those she had deemed worth her blessing turned their backs on her, using lights spells instead and hurting her and her brother. If the balance was not restored, the voice said, than there would be no more magic for humans. They would give him time, but if he could not accomplish it than they would carry through with this threat.

Then, magic rewarded the sacrifice; it gave the man laying still the power to get rid of the dark lord. However, by doing so magic also cursed him, making him into a creature that would be shunned by the wizarding world as it was now.

Thus, the boy-who-lived, Gryffindor and well-known light wizard, completed his dark ritual. He was surrounded by ebony strands of magic, encasing and changing his body where it lay. And when the magic seeped away, retreating from the room and bringing chill back into the dungeon room, the still form remained on its stone slab. Lips bleeding from the unexpected growth of eye teeth, eyes slanted to better protect from the suns glare, skin darkened to protect better against the suns fierce rays, sharpened nails leaving crescents in hips near their runic markings, the tool used before lying in a melted spot on the table where it had landed once magic overcame him. No other visible traits were altered, but biologically the man was much different as he would soon come to know. Now was not that time however, for Harry Potter was asleep where he lay, no longer held still by the oils power but unmoving all the same.

Once he awoke there would be time, time to realize what he had become. Time to remember the demands upon him and ponder the price he would face, for it seemed magic had put a lot upon him and would expect its due return. There would be even more time to think on how he would accomplish this.

But for now he lay, for tomorrow would be tomorrow, and tonight he would sleep for the last time with a clear conscious for a long while.

So what do you think? I'm of a mind that this is a fairly different concept for Harry being a magial creature, but that may just be me.

Just curious, can anyone guess what our dear Potter has become? Review or PM and let me know! :)

Till Next Time