Yo! ...I'm a piece of shit. I don't know why I keep getting ideas for new things, and none for the ones I'm already working on. Still, none of those other fics have been abandoned or anything. I've just hit a million different blocks. As for this one...well, I haven't fully planned things out yet, so I'm not really sure where it's going to go. I initially planned for this to be under ten chapters long, but I have no fucking idea anymore.

Harry will turn dark and join Voldemort as an equal, Dumbledore will be the enemy, and that's pretty much all I know. I'm not positive on a pairing yet either, though I'd like for there to be one. I don't feel like writing another Tomarry/Harrymort fic, because I do that waaaay too much, so the options here are Severus, Lucius, Barty Jr, or maybe an OMC Death Eater or something-feel free to let me know if you'd like to see one of these pairings-don't suggest others because I can almost guarantee I won't be into it.

This is an AU from GoF onward, and will most definitely be a slash fic, so make note of that. There might be some character bashing, likely AD, if it happens, and possibly some Order members if it gets that far, and maybe temporarily, Ron. Nothing particularly mature will happen until Harry's a litter older, so for now this is just rated for my own peace of mind-I might downgrade it if it ends before anything mature takes place. I'll add more warnings when things come up, so I'd suggest reading AN's, or at least glancing over them. I'm also totally open to ideas or suggestions though understand that I may not use them, if I don't like them. Sorry about the long AN!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters...

On Halloween, what had, shockingly, been a normal school year for fourteen year old Harry Potter, came to a sudden, unexpected, unwelcome, but ultimately unsurprising, end. Despite his age, and the fact that a Hogwarts Champion had already been declared chosen, Harry's name came flying out of the Goblet of Fire.

He should have known his peace was too good to be true. It always was. He fought, and argued, and pleaded, and yelled, but no matter what he said or did, no one really seemed to believe he hadn't done this himself, didn't seem to believe that he didn't want this. Not the students, not the adults.

Some of them did, sure, but most didn't, and those ones were the most vocal about it too. They seemed to be under the impression that if he truly didn't want to compete, he just wouldn't. But that wasn't how it worked! It was a legally binding contract-he had no choice! Or, that was what the adults told him, at least.

Of course, being forced to compete didn't make Harry feel any better about the situation. In fact, all it meant was that he had less than a month before he ended up killed in front of the entire school, during the first task. What kind of idiots would willingly choose to compete!?

Okay, so he knew plenty of those idiots, but he knew his fellow champions weren't going to be smiling cheerfully (or being all surly, in Krum's case) once the first task actually arrived. They probably had no idea what it was like to risk their lives in extremely dangerous tasks. Krum, being a professional Quidditch player, was likely the one who got closest to death out of the three of them. Delacour and Diggory were just normal students...

The days went by. Harry's anger had only grown. Ron had turned his back on him. Ron had betrayed him. Ron was jealous of him. Or so Hermione said. Harry understood, but at the same time, didn't understand at all. Ron was jealous of his fame and fortune, but for some reason, couldn't get it into his thick skull that the only reason he had those was because his parents were dead!

After everything Harry had confided in him about his time at the Dursleys, his supposed 'best friend' still had the balls to get so jealous that he would not just turn his back on him, but spread rumours and lies about him too. If that wasn't being stabbed in the back, Harry didn't know what was.

He would have given anything to trade his life for the one Ron had. Sure the Weasleys weren't the best off financially, but Ron had two parents who loved him unconditionally, and so many siblings who may argue all the time, but would do anything to make sure he stayed safe and happy. Ron always had a roof over his head, and three large meals, along with many snacks, in his belly every day, while he lazed about.

Harry didn't have any of that. Not all the time, at least. His parents were dead. His godfather was an escaped convict. His pseudo godfather was a werewolf who had no legal rights due to his condition. The Dursleys hated his very soul. They mocked and belittled him. They hit him, and starved him, and if they didn't feel like locking him in his old cupboard that he had quite literally grown up in, would instead punish him further by locking him out of the house at night. All night. Often in the rain. That was how much they cared about him. They treated him worse than an animal.

And he had told Ron all of this. Because he had trusted him. Trusted that he would always believe him. Trusted in their friendship. Sure, they were young, but Hermione knew everything Ron did, and she certainly hadn't turned on him. So why had Ron? What excuse did he have save for his petty jealousy?

Because Ron didn't realize, that to have what Harry did, his entire family would have to die, and he was going to have to suffer nearly every day of his life, not to mention literally fight for his life against an actual Dark Lord. But that didn't matter to him, did it? Not as long as he was rich and famous.

How could he forgive something like that...?

The days passed. The first task grew closer, and despite studying and practising whatever spells he could (with some help from Hermione), Harry got no closer in learning what the task even was, and that was seriously not making things any easier at all. After all, how could one prepare for a task they knew nothing about?

Harry may not have been afraid of death, but that didn't mean he was ready to die quite yet. He was only fourteen! He wasn't-he couldn't-he didn't-he

"Hogsmeade?"

Beside him, his bushy haired friend nodded. "Yes, today's November twenty first-the first Hogsmeade visit is today. Did you forget?"

Harry blinked. "Evidently." He had been more focused on the first task, which was to take place tomorrow morning.

"Well? Are you coming with me?"

The fourteen year old debated, drumming his fingers on Gryffindor Table as he thought. "Why don't you go on ahead?" he finally replied. "I haven't finished breakfast yet, clearly, and there was a spell I've nearly gotten the hang of-shouldn't take much more practice. How about we meet later for lunch or something?"

Hermione frowned, and her brow furrowed in concern. "Are you sure? I don't mind hanging back with you. We can always just go together later in the day. Or even skip it altogether. There's no rush, really. We have hours yet."

But Harry shook his head. "No, don't worry. You go on. Besides, this will give you some alone time in that bookshop you love so much, won't it? I can meet you at the Three Broomsticks around...twelve thirty or one?"

The girl peered at him closely, but was soon satisfied, and nodded. "Alright." She swung her legs off the bench, then stood. "You know where the bookshop is, right? If you don't see me at the Three Broomsticks by one, it might be best for you to come get me yourself."

Harry agreed readily, because that made perfect sense to him. His female friend often lost track of time when she was reading, and if he didn't go to her himself, he wasn't going to see her until the bookshop closed and she was kicked out. ...It had happened once before.

He watched Hermione leave with the other third through seventh years, along with the foreign students as well, and then turned his attention back to his breakfast, the only one left sitting at this section of Gryffindor Table-the first and second years all down at the other end.

Despite what it may have seemed like, the green eyed teen hadn't lied to Hermione at all. He really hadn't finished his breakfast yet, because he had spent too much time lost in thought to eat, and there really was a spell he had been practising recently that he was very close to finally mastering. He knew if he just had another hour or two, he would get the hang of it for sure. And since it was not just the weekend, but a Hogsmeade visit as well, it gave him the perfect chance to practice without being disturbed...

Once he was done eating, Harry retreated into an empty classroom where he began practising. He was at it for a while, repeating the spell over and over again, not allowing himself to feel discouraged if he failed, or didn't quite get it. He was getting closer to succeeding with each attempt, he told himself, which made it all, even every fail, worth it.

Ugh, when had he become so optimistic? Gross.

"What in the world are you doing in here, Potter? Why are you not off causing mischief and mayhem in Hogsmeade with your...friends?"

Shit. This was why optimism was idiotic.

Forcing himself to remain calm, Harry lowered his wand slightly, and looked up at the man standing in the doorway. "Not that it's any of your business, Professor Snape, but I'm practising for the first task. You know, the one that's tomorrow? The one in the Tournament I never signed up for? And as for my friends, well, friend, as Ron's acting like a daft twat, Hermione is no doubt at the bookstore in Hogsmeade, with her face buried in some book or another."

"And you will remain in the castle all day? I did not believe you would disregard an opportunity to cause havoc somewhere other than Hogwarts."

"Right, well, like I said, I'm just here to practice. I told Hermione I'll meet her later for lunch in the village. Not that this is any of your business either, sir." And why was he telling him this anyway?

Surprisingly, Snape didn't say a word. He simply stood there, staring at him, the expression on his face not quite confused, but not far from it either. It was almost as if he was...surprised. But, why? He hadn't said anything that odd, had he? But the longer the silence went on for, the more ill at ease Harry became.

"Er, Snape?" he finally voiced, feeling slightly uncomfortable. The man hadn't died standing up, had he?

Snape sort of just...twitched, and then, without a word, turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Harry stared at the shut door, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, and completely baffled. What the hell had just happened?

After a moment, Harry, despite his confusion, simply shrugged and got back to work. He was so close! Just a few more tries and he was sure to master this bloody spell...

It was nearly one in the afternoon when Harry finally left Hogwarts, jogging down the path that led to the small village, ignoring those he passed on the way. Snape's interruption had cost him a bit of time, but he had finally mastered that spell, and Harry was now on his way to Hogsmeade to meet his friend. He was a bit late, which was why he was hurrying. Though he was sure he was doing so for no reason. He doubted Hermione had noticed the time at all. She never did.

The dark haired teen had only just entered the village, when-

"Potter."

Harry skidded to a stop, and looked up at the man standing before him, surprised. "Professor Moody?"

"Aye. A word, if you will?"

Harry blinked, green eyes displaying his confusion, but he nodded. "Sure, yeah," he replied somewhat awkwardly.

"Good." Moody looked around, then nodded towards a nearby building. "Here."

Confusion growing, the teen followed his limping professor behind the small building, beginning to wonder if he should start feeling worried about this or not. He had heard so much about Moody, and he doubted the man would hurt him, but this was pretty weird. Then again, maybe he just wanted to tell him something he didn't want to risk anyone overhearing? The guy was known to be pretty...paranoid, wasn't he? That was what he had heard.

Once they had come to a stop, Moody's magical eye whizzed around in every direction, clearly making sure they were alone and there was no one near enough to see or hear them. Satisfied, he turned his attention to Harry. "Got something here for you, Potter. Thought it'd help." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out-a book?

Harry blinked, but just as he reached for it, Moody dropped it, and it hit the ground with a thump.

"Damn," the man cursed. "Grab that, will you, laddie?"

The teen simply bent down, having no reason not to pick it up. The moment he touched the book, Moody grabbed his shoulder, and half a second later, barely even that, he felt as if his navel had been hooked and was tugged away before he could even process what was happening...

And that's it for now. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!