Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Harry Potter or Hannibal.

Also this is a Hannibal crossover so expect for there to be mentions of murder and cannibalism. Nothing too graphic but you have been warned.

Chapter 1: A Thief in the Night

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was upset. Well, that wasn't quite true. In actuality he was a little more than upset. He was angry. It was so very rare that he ever felt anger. In fact it was rare for him to feel any strong emotion.

So when he did, he savored it. Relished the taste like a fine wine. He dragged the sensation out so that he could experience it for as long as possible. However, his rage was so complete that he found he couldn't drag out the emotion this time. In fact he'd barely been able to stop himself from attacking the objects of his anger in the restaurant that evening. His iron-clad control had been sorely tested, and he had wanted nothing more than to be the beast that he truly was.

Hannibal had been enjoying a nice evening with a few colleagues. They had attended a weekend long psychiatric conference in London, and to celebrate their last evening they'd gone to a gourmet restaurant. The first few courses had been more than up to Hannibal's strict standards even if the meat hadn't been his preferred choice. The wine held a wonderful bouquet that Hannibal's strong sense of smell found delightful. The conversation had even been decent, not dull for once. One of his associates was hiding an interesting anxiety disorder, which Hannibal had planned on encouraging a bit to see what happened.

However, his plans were ruined when the pigs walked in. Hannibal thought of all his victims as pigs but these people were truly the embodiment of the foul creatures. The man was corpulent and loud with a large walrus like mustache and an ill fitting suit that strained around his thick girth. The woman to his left was obviously his sister. The only difference being she was even louder, she wore a dress, and her mustache wasn't quite as pronounced. The other woman, obviously his wife, was rail thin with a pinched face that resembled a horse. She held the hand of a loudly whining, hideously obese little boy that had no place in the establishment.

Hannibal could have ignored them if they had just been loud. But he could not ignore their rudeness. The man and his sister were boorish demanding the best of everything without knowing the true value of it. They ate like hogs shoving small appetizers, that were meant to be savored, down their gullets all the while boasting and laughing loudly. They gulped down their wine without appreciation of its fine scent or taste. Hannibal could have killed them on those points alone. Alas, they were even more vulgar than that. The man bragged loudly about a promotion at work, and his sister spoke of her prized dogs. Hannibal wanted to feed her to those dogs. He was certain he would be doing the dogs a favor. The wife gossiped and spoke ill of her neighbors, delighting in their tragedies and misfortunes. The boy continued to whine loudly about being bored in between shoveling food down their throats.

Hannibal managed to contain himself long enough to learn the names of the horrid pigs. Then he excused himself from his associates. He was unable to stay a moment longer or else he feared his control would be forfeited, and he would lunge at them in the restaurant. Even he had his limits, and those… people had pushed his. Once he had made his exit he began to plan. He located the homes of the Dursleys. The sister was staying with them for the weekend. This was perfect for Hannibal's plan. He rarely slaughtered more than one pig at time, and he tried not to hunt in territories he hadn't familiarized himself with beforehand. But he was willing to make an exception for the Dursleys.

The next night found him visiting Number 4 Privet Drive. He approached the house like a shadow, quiet and unseen despite the plastic suit he wore. However, before he could go any further he was halted by an invisible barrier. Hannibal paused in surprise. He tested the barrier again, running a palm over it. He moved around the edges of the barrier, testing to see where the boundaries lay. The barrier completely surrounded the entire house. It was quite the conundrum to Hannibal. His objectives shifted a bit. He still wanted the Dursleys dead but now he wanted to know the origins of the blood wards. What was a powerful blood ward doing surrounding the home of an ordinary human family? The better question was why would someone want such a powerful protection for such odious people? Hannibal wanted to find out and to do that he needed to get inside the wards.

It was obvious that a wizard had created the wards, and they were quite strong. But so was Hannibal. He wore the guise of being human but he wasn't. He was a creature from nightmares, powerful and ancient. His kind were the reason human beings feared the dark. They played with their minds and devoured their flesh. There weren't many of his kind left, and many believed that they were nothing more than myths. Hannibal hadn't seen another of his kind in centuries, and he often wondered if he was the last. Wizards, and humans had killed them off long ago. Their population had always been small, and the wizards and humans had used their greater numbers to hunt them down. Hannibal alone seemed to have escaped the slaughter. He lost both his parents and his younger sister. He remained alive through his cunning and power, and most of all his strict control over himself. But he was alone, masquerading as a human. His disguise was so great that even he sometimes forgot that he was something more. After all it was essential for him to forget, it kept him from missing the freedom of his true from.

It was instances such as this, being confronted with magic, that made him remember himself. He wanted to test his strength against those of wizards just to assure himself that he was still capable of it. He wanted to get to whatever they were trying so desperately to hide. Hannibal pulled on his own, quite significant, dark power. He murmured in the deep guttural language of his people and slashed his palm to spill his black blood against the barrier. The blood wards around the home shuddered as his own blood washed up against it. For a moment longer they resisted before dissolving completely. Hannibal allowed himself a brief moment of triumph. He was exhausted but it was one of the biggest challenges that he had had in a long time. He knew that now the wards had fallen someone would be alerted. No one had such strong wards in place without some sort of alarm system in place in the event that they failed. He would have to work quickly.

He used his inhuman speed to move swiftly and silently up into the bedrooms. He dispatched the parents and sister-in-law with quick brutal ease. He couldn't chance taking his time drawing out their deaths now. The son he left alive. Despite the child's horrid behavior he still didn't want to kill a child unless it was absolutely necessary. Instead he gave the child a sedative that would insure he slept for at least 24 hours. The sedative would have the added benefit of confusing the wizards. A magical creature or another wizard wouldn't be likely to use a muggle sedative on the child, and it would draw attention away from the perpetrator being a magical being. With that done he displayed the bodies in a particularly shaming manner. The ritual soothed the savage rage burning inside him that the pigs had caused to stir inside him.

Making art from the bodies of his victims was something he had fallen into, and he enjoyed it. It was an outlet for his natural violent tendencies. His kind was inherently inclined to meddle and play with the minds of others. Hannibal was a perfect example of that. He reveled in manipulating others and testing them to see what they would do. Unfortunately, there weren't many who were up to the challenge of facing his strength and skills. In the end they weren't able to hold his interest for an extended period of time.

With his task complete he went to check the rest of the house to find what the blood wards were so carefully guarding. Hannibal hadn't seen anything to warrant the powerful blood wards around the house. As he was treading down the stairs his sharp hearing caught the sound of shuffling underneath his feet. Hannibal was more than confident in his own abilities and he knew without a doubt that something was under the stairs. Hannibal went to investigate. There was a lock on the outside of the broom cupboard door, and Hannibal assumed that the Dursleys must keep the family pet locked up at night. If he was being honest with himself the small boy of about four or five with a wild mop of black hair curled up inside on a dirty mattress was the last thing he had been expecting.

The boy wore old stained clothing several sizes too big. Hannibal knew they had to be hand-me-downs from the overweight boy upstairs. The boy was curled up under an old thin blanket that was stained, and obviously tattered. A few broken crayons and a couple of plastic soldiers littered the floor of the cupboard. Hannibal's mind wandered to the room full of toys and the thick bedspread in the other boy's room. Rage consumed him. He suddenly wished that he hadn't killed the Dursleys so quickly. What right did they have to lock this child up like unwanted trash?

The boy had turned to look at Hannibal while he had been lost in his thoughts. Large emerald green eyes warily looked Hannibal over. The face was thin and sunburnt making his eyes stand out all the more. The look in the eyes was something Hannibal recognized. It was hopelessness tinged with hunger and desperation. Suddenly he didn't see a small boy in front of him. He saw a little girl. A girl who had called his name while she cried for him to protect her. He had failed her. He had been weak, and unable to stop the human men from tearing her apart. What was more Hannibal could sense the magic surrounding this boy. He was saturated with it, and Hannibal wanted to drink it in. There was a slight darkness that tinged his otherwise pure magical scent, and Hannibal found himself intrigued by it. He knew without a doubt that this boy was what the wards had been hiding.

Before he could think better of it he swept the child up into his arms. The child barely made a whimper as he was scooped up by a complete stranger wearing a blood covered plastic suit. Of course the boy was half asleep and most likely didn't properly recognize what was happening. Hannibal soothed the child against his shoulder when the boy squirmed a bit as they exited the house. Hannibal sent a tendril of his will into the boy's mind, forcing the boy into a deeper sleep with peaceful dreams. He didn't know what he was going to do with him yet, but he knew that he couldn't just leave him behind. The child was the most fascinating thing he had discovered in ages. He wasn't one to let such a gift slip away from him.

His calculating mind was already moving through several different paths that he could take whilst he disposed of the evidence, and settled the boy in his rented car with a blanket. Hannibal drove them back to the hotel, and by the time they reached the hotel he had settled on two different courses of action. Killing him was out of the question. At least not at the moment. He was far too interested to learn what made this boy so special as to warrant such protection. But then if the boy was special then why had he been left with humans who treated him like unwanted garbage? It was an interesting puzzle, one that he desperately wanted to solve. Hannibal could have just left him at the nearest and most qualified orphanage, and not gotten involved at all. However, it wasn't in his nature to not try and manipulate situations for his own amusement. So in the end he chose to keep him.

Having a child or raising a child had never entered Hannibal's mind. He was one of the last of his kind so even if he wanted to, it wouldn't have been possible. There were ways to turn someone but he had never met a human he thought was worth the effort. Hannibal wasn't certain why he thought of changing this child now. Perhaps it was the way he had associated the boy with his sister. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was lonely. He had spent so many years hiding his true nature, pretending to be human. It had its merits, being able to get up close and personal to better twist the minds of weaker beings without the need of his powers. He enjoyed the various serial killer personas he created, or occasionally copying another's work so perfectly no one would be able to tell the difference. For the first time he thought of what it would be like to mentor someone. To have someone that would be susceptible to being molded and created in the image that he wanted of them. Turning him would make the boy his son, the closest to a son as he was ever going to get. He wanted someone to pass on his ideals and his knowledge to.

It was this loneliness paired with the worn and weary look in the child's eyes that made him decide to keep the boy. It would be an inconvenience to get the paperwork in order but Hannibal felt the benefits would pay off. He had quite a few contacts in the world who could forge the necessary papers, and enough money to get things done quickly and quietly. Within a few days he would have all the paperwork declaring the boy his legal son. By tomorrow he would have begun the process of making him his son.

He carried the child up to his hotel room. The boy was terribly light. Hannibal would make sure to change all that. He had grand plans to see him being fed quite well from now on. After all growing boys needed their nutrients. Hannibal got rid of his dirty rags, and dressed him in one of his own undershirts. He was going to burn the disgusting scraps as soon as he could, and get him some proper outfits to wear. He tucked the child into one of the beds, and cast a small protective ward around him. It would keep his location hidden for the time being if the wizards started searching for him. In the morning everything would change for the boy. It would be the beginning of a very difficult adjustment period. The child would need his sleep.

Hannibal couldn't resist taking a look into his mind. What he saw interested him. He watched from the shadows as the boy dreamt of lying outside in a field of flowers looking up at the sky. It was an odd dream for a child. Most children dreamt of toys or sweets. The boy had an oddly peaceful mind for one so young. But if he had spent most of his life locked in a broom cupboard under the stairs it was no wonder that he dreamt of the sky when he was able.

Hannibal left the boy to his dream and moved deeper into the boy's memories. His kind were master of nightmares and mind magic. In the time when they had been at the height of their power they could even turn nightmares into a reality. Hannibal was only capable of such a feat if he was extremely well rested and prepared. Afterwards he would be completely exhausted, and his energy stores would be depleted. He would need another of his kind if he wanted to work great magic like that again.

Hannibal moved through the boy's mind in the shape of a large black-feathered stag lest the boy catch sight of his presence. His horns were a mass of twisting thorns. The points were sharper than knives and could impale someone with casual ease. This ravenstag was one of the three forms he was capable of taking. The second was his human form and the last form was somewhere in between the other two. The third form was the true shape of the wendigo. The wendigo was a creature with the feathered and furred lower half of the ravenstag along with its massive antlers. A wendigo's skin was like black polished ebony and its long fingered hands ended in long wicked black claws. The eyes could often be seen as the most unnerving since they were the color of dried blood with no whites or irises.

In myth wendigos were perceived as cannibals and they were right. Wendigo's had voracious appetites and would eat anything or anyone even their own kind. The legends were also true that to become a wendigo one had to practice cannibalism. But that wasn't all of it. Just being a cannibal wouldn't change someone. A person would need the assistance of a born wendigo or at the very least would need access to a steady supply of a born wendigo's blood. The process wouldn't take too long, no more than a month or so but it must be done in the correct manner. The process would prove difficult for the boy, and not all humans were capable of making the switch. Hannibal was confident that the boy's magic would aid him through the process. The boy was also strong to have lived through the treatment he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys.

The more Hannibal saw of the boy's memories the more he regretted killing the Dursleys so quickly and in their sleep. They weren't physically abusive, except for the occasional slap to the back of the head and the way they yanked him around. But they were just deplorable people. They neglected the boy in favor of spoiling their own disgusting spawn. They belittled him and were unjustly cruel to him for matters beyond his control. Of course this benefitted Hannibal nicely since the boy would be eager to please anyone who showed him the slightest bit of affection and attention. It would make it all the easier to mold the boy to his expectations. The Dursleys had started working the child the moment he was old enough to walk. The aunt had him making simple meals, doing the laundry, and weeding the garden. Chores were good for children. Using them like slave labor wasn't. Hannibal was a murderer but even he had his standards.

Hannibal learned a bit about how Harry came to be with the Dursleys. It was difficult to discern because the memories were those of an infant. They were fuzzy but he was able to make out that there was some sort of attack. A dark wizard of some kind had attacked and killed the boy's parents. The wizard hadn't been able to dispatch the boy for some reason. The spell he cast had rebounded and destroyed him while only leaving the lightning bolt shaped mark on the boy's forehead. Somehow the boy had been placed with his mother's human sister and her family. The details of just how were even fuzzier, and Hannibal made the assumption that the boy had been asleep during those particular events.

For the most part the boy's mind was simple to traverse. The boy was too young to build any sort of effective barriers to keep someone like him out. Hannibal made the boy familiar with his presence in his mind. This was would ensure that the boy had a small measure of trust in him when he woke in the morning. Hannibal also noticed a darkness in the boy's mind that definitely did not belong. It had been walled off behind impressive barriers within the child's mind. The child must have created them instinctively. If he hadn't he probably wouldn't have survived the taint. Hannibal would probe the foreign piece of magic later. That is if the fragment wasn't completely destroyed when he started turning the boy.

After gathering all the information that he could he decided to withdraw from the child's mind, and seek his own rest. He was tired. He hadn't used so much energy in a long time and he was rusty. Hannibal was disappointed with himself he shouldn't have allowed himself to become so out of practice.

Hannibal woke early, feeling more refreshed, and eager to start the day. The hotel had a small kitchenette in the room. It was nothing special but it allowed him to prepare a small breakfast. He wanted to start building a relationship with the boy as soon as possible. Hannibal had become certain that he wanted to keep the boy after seeing his memories. The boy had a core of steel, and a mysterious past. Hannibal was willing to tie the boy to him. He was also going to begin to turn the boy. He would start the process off by allowing the boy some revenge by feeding him his relatives. The second necessary requirement was Hannibal's own blood, which he would mix in with the boy's cranberry juice.

It didn't take long for the boy to wake up. Hannibal watched in amusement at the series of emotions that flittered across the small features. The child's expressions were like an open book and simple for Hannibal to read even if he hadn't spent last night looking through his mind. There was confusion, fear, and just a hint of wonder as he looked around the room. Hannibal applauded the way he took in the room, and noted the exits and possible hiding places. Fear and uncertainty were the predominant emotions when his gaze finally settled on Hannibal.

"Good morning," Hannibal greeted sending the boy his warmest smile, the one he used to put his patients at ease. There were a few rare humans who were still able to recognize him for the predator that he was. They still carried the remnants of instincts that their ancestors had developed to survive in those dark times before civilization.

The boy was apparently one of them. He didn't appear to buy Hannibal's act at all.

"Good morning, sir," the boy replied timidly despite his obvious discomfort. Hannibal approved of his politeness. At least he wouldn't have to instill manners in the boy just teach him the small niceties of polite society.

"I'm sure you are quite curious as to how you came to be here with me," Hannibal prompted.

"Yes, sir," the boy agreed shifting on the bed as if he wanted to bolt, and twisting Hannibal's shirt nervously in his hands.

"Good, and we shall get to that. But first what is your name?" Hannibal asked. Hannibal already knew the answer. He had learned it last night while in his mind.

"Harry Potter," the boy replied.

Hannibal was going to change his name. Harry was far too common for his son. He would pick something similar to Harry but much more distinctive. His last name would of course be Lecter. A name Hannibal himself had grown fond of over the years of using it.

"I am Hannibal Lecter. I am your new guardian," Hannibal explained carefully, and firmly.

"Uncle Vernon always said that if I wasn't good and didn't finish my chores they would send me away to an orphanage where someone bad would take me home," the boy cried in distress.

"I can assure you I mean you no harm. I know this is all very sudden. It is a big change to take in. But you are much better off without your relatives. I promise to be a proper caretaker. I want you to think of me as your father," Hannibal explained in a calm, authoritative voice.

"Father?" Harry asked breathlessly.

It would almost be too easy to gain Harry's trust. Hannibal easily recognized how starved for affection Harry was. He had been neglected and unloved by his previous guardians. At the slightest mention of someone wanting to care for him he easily overlooked that a stranger had essentially kidnapped him with no real proof of guardianship beyond his own word. The boy was intelligent Hannibal could see that but his young age and his previous treatment left him highly susceptible to Hannibal's influence.

"Yes, I would very much like that. I know it may take some time for us to develop such a relationship but we have all the time in the world," Hannibal assured.

"Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia really gave me to you?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Yes, we have been planning it for some time. I believed they had informed you of the arrangement. I arrived last night but you were already asleep, and they gave me to you then. I did not want to wake so I brought us back to the hotel," Hannibal lied smoothly.

Harry still didn't look convinced.

"Your aunt and uncle began to look for someone to adopt you after the incident with your teacher's hair," Hannibal said.

The incident had been kept a closely guarded secret with the Dursleys. The only way for Hannibal to have found was for them to have told him. Hannibal knowing the secret would prove that he had known his relatives, and that they had trusted him enough to give him the information.

"I didn't mean to do it. I don't even know how I did it," Harry looked terrified.

"You have nothing to fear from me, Harry. I won't get angry about those sorts of things like your relatives did. Those unexplainable little events are a natural part of you," Hannibal reassured.

"You mean you know what it is I can do?" Harry asked eagerly.

"We will discuss them but first why don't you come over to the table. I have spent the morning preparing breakfast for us to start off our acquaintance on the right foot. A traditional English breakfast. I even made the sausage myself," Hannibal explained with a wink.

Harry warily approached the table Hannibal had carefully set despite the limited resources and took a seat. Hannibal sat as well and picked up his fork. He covertly watched as Harry carefully studied his movements before copying him. Hannibal could tell by watching him out of the corner of his eye that Harry probably hadn't had a lot of opportunities to eat at a table or with silverware but he was already conducting himself in a much better manner than his atrocious relatives. Hannibal had high hopes for him.

"This is very good," Harry praised as he took a bite of the eggs.

"Thank you, cooking is a passion of mine," Hannibal watched carefully as Harry took his very first bite of the carefully prepared sausage. Hannibal couldn't help the smile that spread across his features.

"I like to cook too. Well, my aunt makes me do all the cooking. But I like doing it even if I don't get to eat much of it," Harry shrugged.

"I would be more than happy to teach you how to cook," Hannibal enjoyed the fact that the boy already had some experience and an interest in one of his favorite pastimes. He would slowly wean him in to the others. "But I do not expect you to cook for me. You are the child and I am the adult it will be my job to cook for you."

"Oh, but how will I earn my keep? I don't want to be a burdened," Harry panicked.

"You will not be a burden to me. I would not have agreed to take you otherwise. I do expect you to follow my rules. To be polite and respectful to me. I will expect you to do well in school and to pick up after yourself. I do not expect you to be perfect but I always want you to be trying your very hardest at whatever task I've set before you," Hannibal informed him sternly.

"I understand," Harry paused before timidly asked. "So you want me to do well in school?"

"Of course I want you to do well. Knowledge is very important to have. It can open many doors to us. It is to never be taken advantage of."

"I just started primary school and I liked it at first. But my aunt and uncle got mad when I got better marks than Dudley. Then my teacher wasn't very nice to me after Aunt Petunia told her I copied Dudley's work. She was always yelling at me for things I didn't do, and I just got so mad at her," Harry admitted.

"Your anger was understandable. You were judged unfairly. But it does not pay to lose your temper. Our rational thoughts desert us during those times, and we often do things we will regret later. There are many exercises we can work on to help you learn control," Hannibal offered.

"So when someone's rude to me I just shouldn't do anything?" Harry wanted to know.

"No, but there are other ways for them to be dealt with rather than just lashing out. In the long run it will help you to learn control over your magic as well," Hannibal explained. He knew that the one true way to put Harry at ease in his presence was to validate all of his unexplainable experiences.

"Magic? Magic's not real. Uncle Vernon says so," Harry insisted looking about as if his uncle would jump out at him at any moment for simply speaking the word.

"Your Uncle Vernon is a normal human so of course he would not know any better," the slight curling of lip was the only indication of just how vulgar he thought the man had been.

"Uncle Vernon hates magic," Harry's gaze drifted off in remembrance.

"Yes, humans hate that which they do not understand," Hannibal agreed.

"So you said humans, does that mean I'm not human?" Harry asked tremulously. The derogatory name calling of his relatives were no doubt ringing in his ears.

"You are a wizard, which is a human who can perform magic," Hannibal explained.

"Are you a wizard too?" Harry asked regarding him shrewdly.

"What I am is a bit more complicated, and we will discuss it in more depth when we have the time. For the time being I will say that I am a magical person, capable of magical powers just like you," Hannibal answered calmly.

"Prove it," Harry commanded boldly.

"Try again," Hannibal said sternly.

"Can you show me, sir, how you do magic please?" Harry asked instantly contrite. His relatives had taught him to obey authority figures but he still had fire in him. Hannibal didn't mind but he needed to ensure that Harry came to see him as the only authority in his life, and treated him accordingly.

"Yes, of course I can," Hannibal made a grand gesture of moving his hand and making the shadows in the room dance.

Harry gaped in astonishment.

"That's wicked," the boy enthused once Hannibal had resettled the shadows in their proper places.

"Of course," Hannibal agreed. "Now you haven't had any of your juice. Boys your age need your vitamins, drink up."

Harry flashed him a timid smile and picked up the juice. Hannibal watched closely as the first sip passed his lips. The first taste would irrevocable bind them and mark Harry as his. There would be no going back. Hannibal allowed a small, pleased smile to spread across his face. This was the start of something truly beautiful.

So this is a bit different from what I normally write, and I hope that Hannibal was in character. Please feel free to leave your thoughts about what you think of him.