The rewrite and remaster of A King's Path, at long last. I'm sure you'll notice many changes almost immediately - the two stories are intentionally different in a great number of ways. The largest difference should be made quite apparent by the following prologue.

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Regular posting will begin shortly. If you'd like to receive chapters earlier (or just feel like supporting me), check out my P*T*E*N.

A Few Notes Before The Story Begins:

This is a story of growth. It features a Harry Potter who, during his youth, had visions of a young Tom Riddle. As such, he grows to be a more charismatic, egotistical, selfish person. Over the course of the story, Harry finds himself placed in circumstances that challenge his limited worldview, shaping him into someone more caring, genuine and flawed. As mentioned above, this is a Harry x Fleur story. Unsurprisingly, Fleur will play a large role in his changes.

The story begins in the fourth year. Note that the events of the previous years did NOT occur as they did in canon. The changes will be revealed through dialogue as the story progresses, allowing readers to piece together prior events. Note that these previous events serve a great role in understanding the characters and their motivations.

Finally, this story is an adaptation of my previous story, A King's Path. As such, it will feature a Gryffindor Harry, HPxFD Pairing, and a serpent-loving mentor . . . read and review, and I hope you enjoy.

Harry Potter: Sacred Sight

Prologue

I. The Other Orphan

Green eyes. We've both got green eyes.

Harry stared at his reflection in the car window. Though the sun glimmered brightly on the other side, he could just barely make out his own pale skin and jet-black hair. His eyes stood out most of all. He watched as they slowly disappeared behind drooping eyelids, his mind slowly drifting off to sleep -

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon warned loudly from the driver's seat, "What'd I tell you about sleeping in my car?"

That I can't. I'll end up leaning on the window, and that'll stain your car forever.

"Didn't think to sleep properly before our first day of school?" a boy snickered from beside him, "You're a mess, you are."

Harry turned. A rat-faced boy peeked into his vision, one with short brown hair and an abnormally thin face.

"I tried, genius," Harry snapped lethargically, "But it's hard when you keep having the same sort of weird dreams -"

"You're having nightmares?" a plump boy laughed, turning around from the passenger's seat, "You're actually having nightmares -"

"Am not!" Harry almost shouted. He flinched slightly upon catching Uncle Vernon's glare in the rearview mirror, "They're not scary, they're just linked together. Like a show on the telly."

"Rubbish," Piers Polkiss said from his right, "My Auntie's a doctor, you know. She says dreams don't work like that."

"You've never asked your Auntie a thing about dreams," Harry argued irritably, but Piers only shook his head.

"Nevermind that," Dudley, the fat boy sitting in the front seat, interrupted, "Go on about your nightmares again. Did you wet yourself?"

"Quiet, boy," Uncle Vernon warned. His eyes were narrowed. They always were whenever Harry spoke of anything odd or abnormal.

"They're not nightmares and they're not weird, I already said!" Harry was growing annoyed now, "Just interconnected -"

"Spit it out, or I'll give you the good 'ol one-two," Dudley warned irritably, "I've been practicing, you know -"

"Of course I know," Harry frowned, "You've been practicing on me."

Dudley and Piers shared toothy grins.

"Well?" Dudley asked eventually, "What're they about?"

"Some boy named Tom," Harry muttered, "He's about our age, maybe a bit older. I don't really think the dreams are in order -"

"Boy . . ."

"You've been dreaming about a boy our age?" Dudley grinned, "Are you sure you're not - what's the word?"

Gay, I imagine.

"Yes, you muppet, I'm sure," Harry glared, ducking out of the way of Dudley's grubby fists, "You're lucky I'm not like him, either."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"He's real clever," Harry said, his head held high, "Charming, too. He's got everyone eating out of the palm of his hand -"

"So what?" Piers barked, "What's that got to do with you?"

"I could do the same, you know."

Piers and Dudley both roared with laughter.

"You?" Dudley grinned smugly, "You? Have you seen that state of you?"

Harry frowned, turning to the window. His reflection stared back at him.

Green eyes. Tom and I both have green eyes.

"What's wrong with how I look?"

"You're a pile of bones, that's what," Uncle Vernon barked from the front, "No meat on you at all, no wonder you haven't got a good head on your shoulders -"

"You give most of my food to Dudley. That's why he's got nearly two heads on his shoulders and I've got about half of one - ouch!"

He swatted away Dudley's arms, mouthing curses to the oversized boy. Dudley grinned devilishly at him.

"We're here," Uncle Vernon said before either of them could start fighting again, "Go on, up you get."

Harry tumbled out the car door, throwing Vernon's old backpack over his shoulders. It was much too large for him; Harry swore it nearly reached his ankles.

It doesn't matter. The day's finally come.

Harry stared up, his eyes drinking in the sea of colors before him. Dozens of children loitered around the school, most walking leisurely in its direction. A faint grin covered Harry's face.

A fresh start.

"You three here for your first day of primary school?" a lady asked near the entrance gate. They all nodded slowly, "Come in, down the hall and into the room on the left."

"Have fun, Dudders, Piers," Uncle Vernon said loudly, turning around, "Petunia will be here to pick you up 'round four."

They waved at Vernon's retreating form, watching as he returned back to his car and drove off. Harry turned back to the woman with a frown.

People don't often like me much. She probably won't, either.

The woman sent him a lovely smile. Harry stared at her.

The Dursleys haven't ruined things for me yet.

"C'mon," Dudley told Piers, waddling down toward the entrance hall. Harry struggled to keep up with them, "I want to see our peers."

They quickly reached the end of the hall. Before they could enter, Dudley rounded on Harry.

"You'd best stick to yourself, understood?" he said, his tone unusually Vernon-like, "No talking to anyone. You stay silent, the way Dad always makes you."

"Why, exactly?"

The three of them turned, looking through the window in the door and into the room beyond. A number of children, all their age, bounded around the room. Oversized smiles covered each and every one of their faces.

"Those are my friends," said Dudley matter-of-factly, "My friends. Not yours. You stay away from them if you know what's good for you."

Harry's face fell.

Not again.

His eyes slipped back to the window in the door. A sea of smiles sat just beyond. Harry watched as his eyes zoned out, catching the reflection in the plastic window. A pair of green eyes stared back at him.

Tom wouldn't care about someone like Dudley. He'd do what he wanted anyway.

A wave of courage slipped beneath his skin.

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll tell mummy, and she'll talk to the teachers about you."

"I don't care," Harry decided slowly.

It doesn't matter. I'll get to the teachers first.

Harry grinned at the thought, the dream of Tom smiling up at his teachers replaying in his mind.

"You'd better watch yourself," Dudley said louder now, his face going red, "I think I'll just pummel you."

And he did. For a moment, Harry wondered if he should avoid it. He definitely could . . .

No.

He fell to the ground, the skin of his knees peeling as he rubbed against the pavement. Thick, scarlet blood wept from shallow wounds.

"I reckon he's getting the message, Dud," Piers laughed.

Harry sniffed, pushing himself back to his feet.

I wouldn't bet on it.

Thin fingers wrapped around a metal handle, yanking the door open. A brown-haired woman smiled at him from her desk.

"Are you our teacher?"

"I am, dear. What's your name?"

"Harry Potter," he glanced down, pointing at his wounds, "Do you have any band-aids? My cousin Dudley shoved me just now."

The woman's eyes went wide as Dudley shouted in protest. Harry felt his tired eyes slowly slip shut, a single happy thought crossing his mind.

Tom Riddle would be very proud of me right now.

(-{- S S -}-)

Golden lights sparked out. Harry peeked through the slits of his cupboard door, no longer able to see a thing.

Perfect.

He turned around in his undersized bed, wincing as a spider fell from somewhere above. He swatted it away, quietly fluffing his pillow.

"Tom? Tom, are you there?"

No one said a word. Harry hugged his pillow tighter, mumbling to himself.

Course he isn't. He's like Father Christmas. Only shows when you're asleep.

"But you don't show much anymore, Tom," Harry moaned tiredly, "I haven't seen you in weeks . . ."

Perhaps this is how Dudley feels whenever his favorite telly show is canceled.

Harry sat up in his bed, staring determinedly into the darkness.

Just like all the other weird stuff. It'll happen if I want it enough.

The seven year old scrunched up his face with determination, struggling greatly as his body began to tire.

Show me Tom. Show me Tom. Show me - show me . . .

His eyelids suddenly felt heavy. Harry dozed off, lying still for some time as the world went black. And then, miraculously -

"Tom!" a voice shouted from behind him. Tom looked up, gazing around his room in the orphanage, "Tom!"

"Coming, Mrs. Cole!" he shouted, standing up. He quickly inspected himself in a broken shard of mirror placed neatly on his desk before turning around, hurrying for the door -

The door, and Tom, and even the shard of mirror all vanished as one. An eternal darkness consumed them all, leaving Harry alone to his own vacant thoughts.

Tom?

Harry felt something stir. Scarlet eyes appeared from the void, hot like coals. Harry screamed -

Snap.

Harry shot up in his bed, his eyes wide with fear. Nothing more than his plain little cupboard at Number 4, Privet Drive, was there to accompany him. Not anything, nor anyone -

And certainly not anyone with a pair of scarlet eyes.