Happy New Years you guys! Hope you had a wonderful night and cheers to 2014!

This chapter is a bit of an information filler but it's very important you read to the end. There's some facts you'll need to know and understand for later chapters. I promise that the next chapter will pick up and you'll meet some new characters. Including Lucius.

Thanks again to Roheryn's Knight for doing such a wonderful job of catching my mistakes.

Enjoy!

Chapter 2 The Seven Deadly Sins

Wednesday—August 1, 1990

The next morning, Harry found himself sitting across from the man who had taken him from his relatives' home. He met the dark brown eyes of the man he had yet to learn the name of and found himself wondering if he made the right decision when he ran away with a stranger.

Last night, after promising never to leave (as strange as that sounded), the odd creature—something the man called a house elf—led him to his own room. His very own room, with his own bed with soft covers, sheets that smelt like fresh cotton, large windows, and actual floor room where he could walk. It was like a dream, something he could only imagine having in his ten years living with the Dursleys.

But he was at the age where naivety was beginning to fade and replaced with hardened experience and wisdom. This man, the one who could do what he could do and make things appear out of nowhere was his only chance of truly belonging somewhere. No one he knew could see webs and do what could only be described as sorcery.

It was as if he was a wizard or something.

Harry continued to stare at the man in front of him. He lightly flinched as the odd creature appeared with a loud pop to place two plates of steaming breakfast in front of them. The smell of creamy eggs and crispy bacon wafted into his nose and he noisily swallowed the saliva that began appearing in his mouth.

The man continued to eat with Harry watching before a look of irritation flashed across his face. Sighing, he put down his knife on the table and gestured to the food.

"Don't just sit there and look like a fool. Where are your manners? Eat, you're skinny enough as it is."

Harry frowned but didn't reply. He sat down and dug into the food with ferocity, his stomach empty since the day before He wasn't a stranger to hunger, but it was never pleasant, one circumstance or the other.

As he chewed, he glanced up at the man again, who was neatly cutting his eggs in small pieces, his blue eyes focused on the plate.

"It's not polite to stare," he rebuked without lifting his head.

Harry blushed but refused to back away. "Sorry, sir. It's just… I really don't understand what's going on."

"What's not to understand?" Evan asked dispassionately.

"Everything!" Harry resisted the urge to throw his hands over his head. "I've just been kidnapped from my Aunt and Uncle by you, who, by the way, I still don't know the name of, and then there's some kind of ridiculous magic going on that's bonding the two of us together with a promise, and not to mention that," Harry pointed wildly at the house elf that popped in with a steaming plate of fresh bread. "What even is that?"

Evan stared at the boy and silently bemoaned to himself. The boy was a bloody Gryffindor.

"Fine. Tell me what you know about magic, Harry."

"That it doesn't exist," Harry answered promptly, knowing the answer by heart. His relatives had more or less banned the m-word in the household.

Evan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose together. It was just as he suspected. "Let us start with something easier. You told me yesterday that you could see webs of light. That you can make things appear out of nowhere."

Harry looked around nervously. "Yes, that's true. I'm being honest, I swear!"

"Prove it then."

"What?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Prove it," repeated Evan. "Prove that you can make anything appear with those so-called webs of yours. Otherwise, I won't believe you."

"I told you I'm not lying!" Harry huffed.

"Then prove it to me. Prove me wrong."

With heroic effort, Harry suppressed the urge to snarl and clenched his fists together, watching with a satisfied smile as a familiar pattern of webs appeared. Rather than the sparse webs around his relatives' house, here, the walls, furniture, and air were thick and thrumming with webs weaved together so intricately and tightly that there was no telling where the beginning and where the end was. The strings hummed with life and pure magic.

"Wow," he murmured under his breath. He sneaked a glance at the man, who was watching him with unblinking eyes.

Feeling pressured and a slight bit disjointed, Harry looked around for a string of web. Finding the blue interweaved with all the others, he gave a violent tug and a gush of water appeared from the ceiling, soaking them and their breakfast in the process.

Harry gasped, wiping the hair from his forehead and glanced fearfully at the man. "Oh lord, I'm sorry sir, I'm not sure how to control this at all!"

But instead of becoming furious, the man gave a wicked smile that sent chills down his arms. "Don't apologize, boy. That was perfect! A magnificent show of magic, indeed." He flicked a stick of wood by his side and the water instantly dried.

Harry felt his mouth dry as well.

The webs gave the barest twitch. He could see small balls of light fly out of the wood and expand over the water. It was incredible, and happened in a split second.

"How did you do that?" he asked in awe.

Evan could feel his patience waning from the boy's persistent questions. He was becoming soft. Unbelievably soft for a boy he only met yesterday.

It was disgusting.

"That's enough of your questions," he snapped. Blue eyes flashed. "We have so much to do in so little time, there is no time for such frivolous matters. Come with me."

Harry felt himself recoil from the man's sudden change in attitude. He gave a longing glance at the other half of his breakfast before he sighed and stood up from the table. Following the still-unknown man, he bit back questions as he watched figures inside of portraits that hung on the hallway walls moving and talking.

Finally, he couldn't hold back and the flood burst through his poorly constructed dam. "Why are the pictures moving?"

Evan forced himself to pry his hand off of his wand, one finger at a time. He would not curse the boy. Not yet, when he needed to build trust and dependence, so that the boy would serve him and his Lord faithfully.

"Because of magic," he said clearly, spinning around to level Harry with his eyes. "What you can see is magic in its most potent, raw form. Magic exists, Harry. Wizards and witches exist. Things you read in fairy tales—unicorns, zombies, flying brooms—they all exist."

Harry felt his head spin. Magic? The very thing his Aunt and Uncle were so persistent about driving through his head that it didn't exist?

But nevertheless it made sense. The webs he could see, his hair growing back, the ability to create something out of nothingness. No, he wasn't possessed by a demon, no, he was a wizard.

And this man had told him what his relatives wouldn't. He was his real family now, just as he promised the day before. This is where he belonged, with freaks like him.

Evan led Harry down the long, bleak hall. A small smirk began to appear on his face. He could see the wheels turning in the boy's head. He was gaining that trust, that dependence, that loyalty he wanted.

It was only a matter of time before the true lessons would begin.

Evan led the boy toward a large study table seated in the middle of the manor's vast library. Pushing Harry's shoulders down so the gaping boy would sit, his eyes glued on the mere movement of books rearranging themselves, Evan slid into a chair directly across and wordlessly summoned a couple of books.

Folding his hands together and staring down at Harry, Evan dragged up what patience he had managed to save in his thirty-one years of life. He started from what the beginning would be for the ignorant child in front of him. "Magic, Harry, is not a mere tool. It is a sentient being. Something that has been living for centuries. We wizards thrive off of magic—our bodies and our blood thrum with it—it is the core of our existence."

"And as we thrive off of magic, magic thrives off of us. We call her the Mother. Her being, her entity, her body is magic itself. She is the heart of magic, the very roots of our unique power. Most witches and wizards forgotten about her and the true origin of magic—instead, they blindly use their wands without a clue about its origin or why we can use this magic, and muggles cannot."

"We owe her our lives. Our bodies, our soul, our entities; she is who fuels us with magic and life source. She, however, has no means of communication with her children. While there is usually no need for such a connection, in times of unbalance, it is her duty to keep magic alive and pure."

"This is where you come in, Harry," Evan said, looking deep into the boy's eyes. "You are a crafter. There is always only one crafter that lives at a time because that person is born as the voice and body of the Mother herself. Your body and mind is composed of the purest magic, and those webs you see is magic as close to physical as possible."

Harry frowned at the man. All the information just seemed so… impossible to him. Too coincidental. "Let's say I believe you," he began slowly. "Why are you here then? And who were those people last night who were chasing us? Why would magic choose me?"

Evan scowled. "I'm not lying, boy." He ignored the flinch. "And stop asking questions. Wait for me to finish speaking, and then you can ask. But to answer your first question, a crafter is one who can see magic in its purest form. However, he or she is also vulnerable to getting lost in these so called webs and becoming lost to the physical world. Normally, the Mother bonds her crafter to an adult, who serves as a grounder. The grounder is responsible for keeping the crafter's magic in check and preventing him or her from falling too deeply into the magic."

"So you're my grounder?"

"You could say that, yes. It's a bit of an unusual situation however. From what I have read, crafters are generally bound by the age of six. Without an anchor, they always die, succumbing to their madness. But you… You, Harry, you're special." Evan's eyes gleamed with excitement. "You were able to hold your own until you were ten. And not only that, but you were able to exert some control over the magic and webs. The only reason I can fathom for why you haven't a bonder is because you lived with those filthy muggles who would only worsen the situation."

Harry mulled that over in his mind. That made sense. The Dursleys practically cringed at the idea of responsibility over him.

An idea dawned on him. "The Dursleys always told me that magic doesn't exist," Harry murmured thoughtfully. "And I believed them. If I didn't, I would be punished."

Evan gave a sharp smile. The boy wasn't as dull as he thought. "And that was why you were never driven to insanity by the webs. You believed it was a simple figment of your imagination—an abnormality. It was something you tried to ignore, because if you used the magic, your uncle would be furious."

Harry nodded. "And he would keep telling me that my parents believed in that 'mumble jumble,' which was why they died in a car accident."

Evan felt himself freeze. James and Lily Potter die in a car crash? It was ridiculous. Despite his hatred for the Light side, he held a grudging respect for the two. They were relatively competent compared to the rest of the Wizarding world.

"Your parents were wizards like us, Harry," Evan said. "They died from treachery because they tried to rebel against the Dark Lord. They were bad people, just like your Uncle said. Except the only thing he left out was their magic."

Harry felt the last shred of his old life tear and burn violently. "They didn't die in a car crash?" he asked hollowly. "How did they die? Why did they rebel?"

Evan hid his smirk. "They were murdered because they committed treason. Horrible treason that cost the lives of wizards like us. Don't expect to feel proud about your heritage, Harry. They were traitors. Might as well have been drunkards killed in a car accident."

He eyed the shaking boy. Walking over to the opposite side of the table, he knelt down and touched Harry's knee. "They were weak-minded. Lacking ambition. They died trying to fight for the wrong side. The Dark Lord killed them, and rightfully so, but he spared you. He saw your potential, and instead marked your forehead." Reaching up, Evan lightly traced the lightning bolt on Harry's head and barely suppressed a violent shiver from the jolt of dark magic that emanated from the scar. "That's why I found you. You're the redemption to the Potter name. You were born, born as a crafter, to help wrong the Light side, who fight to exterminate us. You were born with a purpose, Harry Potter. Your parents failed you. Your relatives failed you. The man who was in charge of you—Albus Dumbledore—failed you. The Light side put you in that abusive home. They wanted to make you weak to manipulate you."

Evan leaned closer and whispered in Harry's ear. "You were born to serve the Dark Lord. Your fate is intertwined with him and the Dark side. Together, you can help rebuild the Wizarding world. You can fight to redeem your family honor. But to do this, you must train. You must learn. I will help you with that, Harry. I can help you do this. Your duty is to stand by the Dark Lord and serve the Mother. Mine is to help you."

Harry felt himself shaking uncontrollably. It was too much. Everything was just too much. His parents whom he had never met were traitors, fighting against their own kind, and he was bond to serve this Dark Lord? He felt his eye begin to twitch.

Evan watched in mild concern as the boy froze. Perhaps he was a little too strong in revealing his carefully tweaked truth.

Finally, Harry was able to force his lips to form words. "My parents were not traitors!" he choked out. It was like déjà vu; the Dursleys telling him about his drunkard parents. "They loved me!"

"Then why did they leave you to the Dursleys?" Evan sneered derisively, leaning back with open confidence. "They could have saved you. But no, for their own honor, their pride, they let their only son die. Not only that, they left you in the care of your dear Aunt and Uncle. Your parents fought for the rights of people like your repulsive relatives. Muggles. The same who wanted to kill you, kill me, and kill our people. They were traitors to their own kind, and to the Dark Lord."

"Your parents are the perfect image of the seven sins: they were too proud to bend and save their son. Jealous of the power true wizards had. Driven by lust to commit murder. Acting from anger and hatred. Greedy for power. Ordering people to do their own dirty work. They are the seven deadly sins."

"Harry. You are the redemption. You are the new generation—the one who can save what makes us special. Magic, Harry. You forget that you are magic, a crafter. You are bound to save what is pure."

Evan stood and loomed over the frightened boy. It was best he enforced these few… details about Lily and James Potter. Lifting his wand, he pressed them to Harry's temple. With his other hand, he covered Harry's mouth and pushed to stop the protests.

"Your parents were traitors. You fight for the Dark Lord. As your anchor, you will obey me for your own good."

He watched as the child's eyes glazed over, feeling no regret for manipulating the boy.

Yes, their bond. As anchor and crafter. His sole duty was to keep the crafter safe and grounded to the physical world. The anchor was given power to command the crafter in order to successfully be able to pull the crafter from dangerous daydreams or abuse of power. That was why the anchor was chosen specifically by the Mother herself.

But Evan was given this power. This opportunity. And he wouldn't be a Slytherin if he didn't take advantage of the authority.

Whispering a spell, he felt the net dissipate and latch onto Harry's mind, twisting and weaving so that the beliefs would be deeply grounded. He removed his hand from the boy's mouth slowly and stared deep into emerald eyes.

"Harry. Do you love your parents?"

Genuine anger and disgust gleamed in his eyes. Harry sneered in a malicious way that no ten-year old should. "No. They betrayed the Dark Lord and people like him. How can I be related to people so ignorant of the right way?"

Evan gave a smirk and settled back on his heels. Things were progressing just the way he wanted them to. The boy was even beginning to speak like him.

"Perfect," Evan purred. "And now we move onto more important issues. We will begin your lessons starting tomorrow. You will need to learn proper etiquette, the history of and figures of the wizarding world, and how to control these webs you see. Do not expect an easy couple of years—I do not want an incompetent protégé under his hand."

Harry felt something nagging at the back of his head but he ignored it. This man was his anchor. His mission was to protect him so that the man could return the favor. But who was he to say no to his very own savior?

He felt his previous anger recede. Breathing heavily, Harry stared at the man. "Who are you really?"

Evan paused. An idea slowly gathered in his head and he gave a savage grin. "Why, don't you recognize your very own godfather?"

Time shattered and Harry gasped. "I have a godfather?" he asked incredulously.

Evan stood up and put a hand roughly on the boy's shoulder. "Yes. I was… friends with your father before he turned against us. I remained your godfather, however, because you are family. Even when I couldn't save your father against his own sins, I could still save you."

Harry stared up at the man—his godfather—and felt a smile stretch widely across his face. His parents may have been traitors, but Evan liked him. No, he loved him. His teacher had told them that people protect their loved ones.

Harry was loved. Not a freak, but loved.

Evan watched as the boy looked up at him with adoring eyes and mentally applauded himself. Perhaps a bit of empathy here and there would reinforce their growing connection. Suffering an onslaught of child emotions was a small sacrifice for the triumph of the Dark.

This time, he could do little to stop a dark grin from twisting across his shadowed face.

Evil Evan, am I right? Well hope you enjoyed all of that! And hopefully, Harry's childhood will be satisfactory to all you wonderful readers. Thank you all for your reviews; it's very touching to know that people are enjoying this.

Lestrange: Harry's loyalty will be bound by the vow as well as some other restrictions that will appear later in this story. He will admire Voldemort's power and intelligence but ultimately he will not be dark, nor will he be light. And yes, Harry will be going to Hogwarts for a bit!

Leave me a review with comments or questions! They are some of the biggest inspirations for writers!