UPDATE: A recent review alerted me to the fact that, although the story was broken up acceptably for desktop reading, the much narrower page for mobile was transforming the paragraphs into long walls of text, as a result, I have gone through and broken up the paragraphs so they will be manageable on every platform.

Authors Note: This is technically going to be a crossover between Spider-Man and Harry Potter, although specifically only with Venom and the other symbiote characters, but I'm publishing it in the main section because, honestly, I want people to actually read it, which won't happen in the crossovers section. The beginning is going to stay somewhat close to the beginning of the Venom (2018) movie, but after the groundwork has been laid it will set off on its own journey. I have some very tentative plans to take either this story, or perhaps a series, all the way through to book seven, but I am somewhat doubtful it'll ever make it that far. I suppose we shall see. In any case, on with the story.

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor Venom.

The twinkling of innumerable stars rent the darkness of the endless celestial night, like eye slits torn into the inky sheet of space. Through these slits the impassive stars stared down upon a spacecraft, sailing through the void toward a blue-green planet swathed in veils of cloud. The ship gleamed a perfect pristine white in the diffuse light of the stars, barely discernible from the surrounding void, only the flashing lights at the tips of the wings helped to draw the eye to it in the endless emptiness. Then a bright blade of fire sheared through the darkness, catching the ship in an almost unimaginably bright ray of light, the radiance of the sun changed the ship from a gleaming spec in the darkness to a glowing iridescent wonder sailing the solar currents. The light reflected off the black tinted windows at the front of the craft as it barreled past the largest collection of landmasses on the surface of the planet, heading towards the second largest as it swiftly descended further into the planet's gravity well. The ship breached the upper reaches of the planet's atmosphere, a fiery corona forming around it as the speed of its passage boiled away the ozone in its path.

The vessel began rocking under the forces of its reentry, juddering first one way, then the other, as if whoever was piloting it couldn't decide where they wanted to go. Or as if there was some fight over the controls- abruptly the surface of the ship bulged outwards as a piece of its superstructure was torn away, as if by some unimaginably strong being within. A figure in a green and white spacesuit flew out of the hole with such force it appeared they had been hurled out through the breach in the ship, rather than merely being pulled out with the rush of air. The unimaginable heat generated by the friction of the ship's atmospheric re-entry warped the structure of the ship around the tear, a thousand tongues of super-heated gas licking hungrily at the tender innards of the ship, finally revealed from underneath the protective coating.

In response to its new aerodynamic profile the ship shifted course, moving from its lateral journey across the Earth into a collision course with the surface, now hurtling towards the larger of a pair of small islands in the planet's northern hemisphere. As the ship turned on its new course it began to flip end-over-end, pieces sloughing off as the force of its re-entry tore at it, before finally cracking into two roughly equal pieces. The front half of the ship shifted course slightly, heading toward the northern part of the island, while the other half continued careening toward the southern portion. Features of the island rapidly began to swell as the two halves of the doomed ship plummeted down through the atmosphere; straight black and grey lines cut through green forest, and vast sprawls of grey concrete and steel. The burning hulks plummeted toward the surface of the world, fragments tearing loose and burning away as the drag of the planet's atmosphere slowed their fall infinitesimally.

From the rear portion a series of parachutes erupted as automatic failsafes activated, attempting to slow the craft's fall in preparation for landing, and, for a moment, the ship seemed to hang suspended, prepared to float gracefully to the ground. Then, with a terrible ripping noise, two of the parachutes tore away, leaving the ship to tumble onward, the final remaining parachute barely slowing its descent toward the unforgiving ground. Fire licked at the borders of the parachute as the craft fell onward, threatening to consume it and doom the ship entirely, but then the ship finally began to slow enough for the friction induced heat to lessen and the flames died away. The speed of the rear half was still so great that the air screamed with its passage, a terrible whistling sound that soon reached all the way to the rapidly approaching ground below.

The front half of the ship lacked the countermeasures present in its counterpart, so it was not slowed as it screamed down toward a majestic castle, nestled in a mountain valley deep in the northern reaches of the island. The coronal fire only burned brighter and hotter as the shielding finally succumbed to the unimaginable heat of re-entry, the snub-nose of the craft having long been blackened and warped into a flattened ram. A ram that was aimed directly at the centre of the majestic castle, despite its stone construction no fortress could withstand an impact of orbital magnitude. The castle, it seemed, was not long for the world.

In one of the towers of the apparently doomed castle, an elderly man gazed out across the rapidly darkening grounds, watching the sun's fading light as it seemed to set the lake ablaze. The man was dressed in a flowing purple robe and pointy purple hat, although the manner of his clothes did nothing to disguise the power within his twinkling blue eyes, even as they peered past his long and crooked nose. The man's piercing gaze became slowly hooded in confusion, as he noticed the light on the lake growing brighter, almost as if the sun was rising once more. A swift glance upward revealed the truth, Albus Dumbledore studied the rapidly growing fiery speck in the sky, and realised it would soon be impacting his school, or rather, it would soon be impacting the nigh impenetrable wards surrounding it. As he studied the incoming object, however, Dumbledore quickly realised that even the Hogwarts wards would be unable to halt an object traveling with such force, and to allow them to try would be to see them destroyed. Without hesitation, Dumbledore pushed himself to his feet, a long knobbly length of wood appearing in his gnarled hand as he stood, before twisting in a surprisingly balletic motion; with a pop, the man disappeared from his office and reappeared atop the castle's tallest tower. Dumbledore raised his knobbly length of wood and pointed it toward the burning object which threatened to pulverise his school.

"Arresto Momentum!" Dumbledore roared in a voice of thunder, and abruptly the burning hulk slowed, as if gripped by a giant hand, beads of sweat appeared on the aged man's forehead as his magic fought against the twisted craft's momentum. Despite its reduction in speed the object continued to bear down upon the Hogwarts wards; three-hundred feet away, Dumbledore reached out and grasped the handle of his wand with his other hand clutching it so hard the wood began to creak. One-hundred-fifty feet, Dumbledore's lips pulled slowly back to reveal his gritted teeth as he fought the thing's kinetic energy with his magic, trying desperately to halt the forward momentum that would lead the wards to identify the object as a threat to the school. One-hundred feet from the ward-line, Dumbledore could feel the object beginning to slow its forward movement, finally giving way before the powerful sorcerer's will. Fifty feet to go, Dumbledore gave a great shout as he forced a final burst of magic through his body and out through his wand, slowing the object even further as it bore down upon the wards. Ten feet to the wards, and finally the object's forward momentum died away, and it drifted, almost lazily, to rest on the grass in front of the school, the heat of the metal enough to scorch and blacken the ground around it. Dumbledore's knees buckled as he sagged to the floor of the Astronomy Tower, his breath coming in great heaving gasps as he fought the weariness that came with over-exerting his magic.

As powerful as he was it was no small feat to stop many tons of metal traveling several thousand miles per hour, particularly from such a distance. After regaining his breath, Dumbledore pushed himself to his feet and twisted once more, with another pop, the ancient man disappeared from atop the tower to investigate just what sort of object had threatened to penetrate the wards of Hogwarts. As he disappeared, another man staggered from the wreckage, clothed in a ripped and torn spacesuit with a hexagonal patch on the shoulder. The man's eyes clouded silver for a moment, before he began hobbling toward the lights of the castle, moving with halting jerks, as if unfamiliar with the mechanics of his body. Only to stop, as a tall purple clad figure materialised in front of him. The man seemed to take in the figure's strange appearance, as well as it's inexplicable arrival.

"Good evening." Said Albus Dumbledore, courteously. "You are doubtless wondering just how your ship stopped?" Dumbledore peered at the ragged man searchingly, as if trying to determine his answer. "I'm afraid I am going to have to alter your memories slightly, a rather barbaric practice in my opinion, but the law. Rest assured, I will not harm you, all I will do is make it so you have a believable explanation for your miraculous survival." So saying, Dumbledore raised his wand to point at the man, clearly expecting no significant resistance from a man so obviously battered. In response, the man bared his teeth and a silver substance grew to cover his arms, transforming them into sharpened blades, Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly at the sight and his stance became warier. "You are no ordinary man, are you?" He asked wonderingly, although this time it didn't seem he was expecting an answer. The figure's only retort was to launch itself through the air toward the old man, blades poised to rend the ancient wizard's fragile flesh.

Far away over southern England, the other half of the ship fell toward a rectangular piece of greenery in the midst of a sprawling collection of identical houses, drawing ever nearer to a brightly coloured structure of metal and plastic. Not far from the garish structure, a group of tiny figures surrounded an even smaller figure, their young voices yelling insults as their hands and feet lashed out. Only to stop and turn to gaze up at the incoming object as the sound of it whistling through the air reached their ears, eyes widened as the standing figures saw the twisted metal monstrosity bearing down upon them, seemingly coming directly at them. With high pitched screams of terror, the figures turned and sprinted from the area of greenery toward the relative safety of the surrounding streets. Several fell over themselves rushing to climb over the fence surrounding the park as the final figure slowly pushed itself to its feet, picking up its glasses and placing them back upon its face.

Emerald green eyes widened behind cracked lenses as the boy beheld the incoming remnant of a spacecraft, the formerly pristine white coating having long ago been charred black. The boy's unruly black hair began to sway, as if stirred by a powerful breeze, but the surrounding greenery remained unmoved as he turned and closed his eyes, one hand coming up in a fruitless effort to ward off the incoming object. Finally, with a screech of tearing metal, the ship impacted with the metal and plastic structure, tearing through it and skidding to a halt, mere feet away from the small boy. The force of the impact sent a wave of air outwards, strong enough to knock the boy off his feet and blow his hair upwards away from his forehead, revealing a lightning-bolt shaped scar. The boy struggled painfully to his feet, rubbing the sore spot in the small of his back where he had impacted with the unforgiving ground. His head tilted as he examined the object that had almost crushed him into a bloody paste, and slowly he stepped forward to examine the smoking craft more closely.

Harry squinted at the twisted metal monstrosity smoking on the ground in front of him, his cracked glasses left half of his vision blurry, he could already feel a dull ache forming behind his eyes as his brain struggled to resolve the discordant signals from his optical nerves. For a moment Harry considered running, as Dudley and his gang had, but then he hesitantly approached the gently smouldering craft.

"Hello?" Harry asked the silent vessel falteringly, "Is anyone there? Are you ok?" The only answer he received was the faint echo of his own questions bouncing around the cramped compartments within. Harry placed a hand gingerly on the metal at the side of the hole entering into the ship, finding it uncomfortably warm, but not painfully so, despite the heat still radiating from the rest of the craft. With a deep breath, Harry squared his slender shoulders and ventured into the darkness of the strange craft, his eyes straining to penetrate the gloom as he slowly walked deeper into the unknown.

The interior of the ship was small and cramped, the walls covered in padding and components Harry couldn't even begin to identify, under other circumstances he'd most likely have been overjoyed to get to explore what could only be a space shuttle, but he was too concerned about what could've happened to the occupants to appreciate the experience. To make matters worse, the ship was full of strange sounds; the groaning of shifting metal as the superstructure slowly cooled and shrank; the dripping of coolant fluid and fuel from ruptured pipes; and screeching wails of tortured metal twisting and shearing as the ship's instability caused it to degrade ever further. It wouldn't be safe to stay in the ship much longer, it probably wasn't safe for him to be inside the ship at all, it had just crashed after all.

Abruptly a new sound joined the disturbing symphony of the vessel's death throes, a soft wet slithering, as of an amorphous fluid flowing over metal, what was worse, it seemed to be coming from somewhere above Harry's head. Harry craned his neck backwards, trying in vain to pierce the gloom above his head, he almost thought he could see something moving, a knot of dark on darkness shifting across the ceiling toward him. Harry took a quick step backward, his foot impacting something on the floor behind him and sending him tumbling down onto the floor in a heap. Looking down at what had tripped him, Harry saw a ruptured cylindrical containment tank with a small, half-missing, insignia on one end, straining in the dimness he could just make out the words "-IFE FOUNDA-."

Then the light was eclipsed as a black goop fell from the ceiling and landed on his face, covering his eyes as it flowed swiftly into his nose, ears, and mouth, stifling his screams and leaving him gagging and choking desperately trying to pull air into his panicked lungs. Harry felt darkness encroaching at the edges of his consciousness as his torment stretched into eternity, nothing Dudley and his gang had ever done had even come close to this. His hands came up clawing at the goo trying desperately to pry it off him to allow oxygen into his lungs, the substance was unmoved by his efforts and continued to spread into and onto him even as his struggles became weaker, and his oxygen starved muscles slowed. Abruptly, as suddenly as it had begun, his suffering ended, and Harry could breathe again. Gasping, his hands scrabbled at his face and chest, searching for some trace of the creature that had attacked him, but found nothing, it was as if the creature had disappeared inside of him. At the thought Harry could almost feel something shifting in his core, and a sinuous presence shifting in the darkest recesses of his mind.

Pushing himself to his feet, Harry staggered slightly at first, before turning and sprinting away from the wreckage as fast as his short legs could carry him, heading toward the dubious safety of the Dursley household. Upon reaching the fence Harry tried to vault it rather than taking the time to climb, only for his back foot to catch on the top and send him crashing to the ground, scraping his knee. Heedless of the blood trickling from his leg, Harry rolled back to his feet and continued running, not even noticing when a small patch of black seeped over his injury, before receding, leaving unblemished skin behind.

If he had looked back, Harry would have seen the metal bar at the top of the fence bent out in the shape of a small foot from where his had impacted. It wouldn't be until the following day that the first bemused parent would discover the odd damage. Harry's lungs burned as he pushed himself harder, the only sound the pounding of his feet; he didn't dare look behind him, afraid of what he might see following behind, what other horrors may have been lurking aboard the doomed ship.

Drawing upon reserves he never knew he had, Harry somehow managed to push himself even faster, the wind whipping through his untidy hair as he ran. The rushing sound of blood pounding in his ears became louder and louder, drowning out all but the impacts of his feet and the heaving gasps of his laboured breathing. Harry could feel heat starting to build beneath his skin, a clammy, stifling heat that seemed at odds with the sudden chill of the surrounding air, sweat was beading on his forehead and his stomach roiled unpleasantly.

Finally, as he turned into Privet Drive, Harry was forced to stop, doubling over clutching at the agonising pain in his stomach and trying desperately not to throw up. He thought the heat and nausea was just from running too far and too fast, but now that he had stopped, it only seemed to be getting worse, and what's more he was hungry, hungrier than he had ever been before. Harry felt as if his stomach was attempting to devour itself, gnawing away desperately in the hopes of gaining some form of sustenance, regardless of the harm to itself. A small, semi-delirious, part of his mind wondered if this was how Dudley felt all the time, if so, then perhaps he could understand why the other boy was so fat. Harry pushed the thought away, he needed to get home or the Dursleys' would be angry, they always were if he stayed out too late, steeling himself, he started walking toward No. 4, swaying ever so slightly with every step. Harry was just reaching the doorstep when it happened.

HUNGRY Roared a voice, dark and hungry as a gravitic abyss.

"What!?" Harry yelled, despite himself, spinning and looking around frantically, searching for the source of the voice that had sounded as if it issued from right beside his ear. "Who said that?" Behind him, he heard the door opening and light spilled out across the pavement, broken by a spindly silhouette looming over him.

"What are you talking about, boy?" Aunt Petunia asked angrily, "No one said anything, now get inside the house, you already missed dinner. Leftovers are in the microwave, fix yourself something, and then go to your cupboard. You need to be up early tomorrow for Dudley's special day." Harry barely suppressed a groan, of course, Dudley's birthday, he thought to himself, how could I forget the 'most important day of the year'? Clearly he wasn't entirely successful in containing his thoughts because Aunt Petunia's voice was rather sharper when she said "Well? Are you coming in or should I just shut the door and leave you out there?"

"No, Aunt Petunia, I'm coming in." Harry muttered, disconsolately. He tried not to stagger too noticeably as he crossed the threshold into the Dursley home. The burning heat under his skin and the all-consuming hunger had not lessened at all, he could feel even more sweat dripping down his face as he entered the house. Despite his hunger, Harry decided to stop by the toilet first to wash his face, perhaps the cold water would help to combat the overwhelming heat that seemed to be eating away at his insides. Stepping into the toilet, Harry closed the door behind him, not bothering to lock it as he walked to the sink and turned the cold water on as high as it would go. Removing his cracked glasses, Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment, feeling for where the metal frame had been pushed into his skin by Dudley's Gang's assault, to his surprise he found no cut or abrasions, only soft whole skin.

Deciding to simply accept his good fortune, he placed his glasses on the side of the sink, where they would be in no danger of falling off. Cupping his hands underneath the glacial spray, he splashed the freezing water on his face, washing away the sweat slicking his skin, and bringing a modicum of relief to the fire that threatened to consume him. Harry looked up into the mirror, and it was all he could do not to scream, the face that gazed back was his, and yet not his. A pair of huge white eyes shimmered faintly over his face, as if only half there, and his mouth had seemingly been replaced by a maw full of razor-sharp fangs, although these too seemed wispy and half-formed.

Harry- it was the same voice as before, but before it could continue Harry screamed and jumped backwards, from the shock of both his reflection and hearing the voice once more. As he leapt, the back of his knees connected with the edge of the bath, sending him tumbling backwards into it. With a resounding crack his head impacted the wall, and he lapsed into unconsciousness.

Harry awoke to a surprising lack of pain in his head, and a gnawing pain in his stomach so great he found he had curled up while unconscious, his hands cradling his aching stomach as if trying to ward off the pain. Reaching up, he found his head completely unmarred, despite the fact that his last memory was a resounding crack as it impacted with the bathroom wall, after he had seen his monstrous reflection and heard the voice.

HUNGRY! The voice was louder than ever before, and it startled Harry so much he jumped even while laying down, his legs kicking out and impacting with the locked door of his cupboard. Rather than merely hurting his legs, Harry was shocked when the door burst open, the bolt breaking with a dull crack which seemed almost painfully loud in the silent house.

The Dursleys are heavy sleepers, but even they must have heard that, right? From the darkness of the hall Harry could tell it had to be well into the night, he listened, barely daring even to breath as he waited to see if any of the Dursleys had been awoken by his impromptu escape attempt. After several moments, Harry released his breath in a sigh before responding to whatever entity insisted on startling him.

"Would you stop doing that!?" He hissed, hoping that whatever it was that kept speaking to him would hear and obey, not that he really believed it would do any such thing, if there even was anything there. Maybe I'm just going crazy? Harry wondered to himself, The Dursleys have certainly been treating me like I'm liable to snap at any moment. As concerning as the possible deterioration of his sanity was, at that moment Harry was far too hungry to give it much thought. With a slight shrug, Harry slowly crept out of his cupboard and toward the kitchen, hoping to quell the burning hunger that still gnawed away inside of him. Harry finally allowed himself to resume breathing normally as he opened and closed the door to the kitchen as silently as possible. Uncle Vernon is probably going to lock me in my cupboard forever when he finds out what I did to the lock, might as well make sure I have a full stomach when it happens.

Once inside, Harry made a beeline for the fridge desperate to fill his aching stomach with something before the Dursleys discovered him and locked him away once more. Meat, Harry decided, I need meat. So focused was he on his self-imposed mission, Harry never noticed that, despite the absence of his glasses, his vision was better than it had ever been before, everything seemed brighter and clearer.

Opening the fridge, he found an assortment of frozen sausages, bacon, and a set of steaks Aunt Petunia was saving for Dudley's birthday dinner, for a moment, Harry considered simply tearing open the packaging and gorging himself on the raw meat, his hunger was so great. He stopped himself with difficulty, remembering when Dudley had tried to eat his food before it was cooked and hadn't been able to leave the toilet for the next three days. It would-be no-good eating if he only ended up throwing up what he consumed. Crossing to the kitchen fan, Harry turned it on in the hopes of masking the smell of cooking food from the Dursleys; Vernon and Dudley were both like bloodhounds when it came to roasting meat. That done, Harry set to preparing the sausages, he only barely knew how from when Aunt Petunia had made him help with Dudley's birthday breakfast the previous year, but he did his best.

Despite his efforts, the first few sausages came out heavily blackened, but the smell wafting from them had Harry salivating and nothing had caught fire, so he considered it a victory. Without pausing more than a moment for the sausages to cool down, he began shovelling handful after handful of food into his mouth, chewing as quickly as possible and swallowing in great gulps. Desperately trying to eat his fill before his inevitable discovery, Harry could feel the yawning pit of emptiness in his stomach beginning to fill, but still something felt wrong with the food. Dead, this is dead. Why wouldn't they have anything living for me to eat? He thought exasperatedly, before pausing in realisation; Why would I want to eat something that was still alive?

Because it tastes better that way. Harry was so shocked to hear the voice speaking in an actual sentence he jumped, sending sizzling sausages sailing across the kitchen and banging the pan noisily against the stovetop.

"Oh no!" Harry groaned, as he heard the sound of a door being wrenched open upstairs. "Can you stop doing that!?"

Yes, but I'm not going to. The voice responded cheekily as heavy footfalls thundered down the stairs.

At that moment the door burst open to reveal Uncle Vernon, face his trademarked puce, almost matching his mauve pyjamas, and a vein throbbing dangerously in his temple; "BOY! WHAT IN BLAZES DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Getting food, you overweight impotent bastard, what does it look like? The voice answered with utter unconcern, but Harry felt the blood drain from his face, if he had been in trouble before, it was nothing compared to what he'd be in now.

"WILL YOU SHUT UP!?" Harry yelled at the voice, desperately hoping he could somehow avoid escalating the situation even further, alas his Uncle's eyes only bulged out even more and his throbbing vein now looked on the verge of bursting.

"HOW DARE YOU, BOY! YOU DARE TELL ME TO SHUT UP!? AFTER I FIND YOU STEALING FOOD!?" Uncle Vernon advanced toward Harry, reaching out with a meaty fist, clearly intending to grasp Harry by the scruff of his neck and yank him into the air.

"N-n-no Uncle Vernon, I-I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to the voice, I promise!" Harry stuttered, terrified of being thrown into his cupboard forever.

What are you doing!? You're making us look pathetic! Stop stuttering and cowering like a weakling! The voice sounded angry now too.

"No, I'm not! I'm trying to stop him from killing us!" Harry yelled back, not even noticing he had started to group himself in with the voice.

Vernon faltered for a moment, why was the boy talking to himself? He'd always been strange, what with his unnaturalness, but he'd never gone so far as talking to himself before. Perhaps this was some new manifestation of his wickedness? Something deep within Vernon warned him not to approach any closer to his nephew, somehow sensing that something had fundamentally altered in the small boy before him. Particularly since the boy in question seemed much less small than when Vernon had thrown his unconscious body into his cupboard mere hours earlier. If he had been paying attention, Vernon would probably have noticed the 4'4" boy he had deposited in the cupboard bore only a passing resemblance to the 5' boy who now stood before him. Vernon was too angry to listen to that something, or notice anything, for more than a moment, however, so with a bellow like a wounded rhinoceros he stomped forward once more, bringing his hand down to grasp the back of the boy's neck in a vice-like grip.

No one is going to kill us! The voice roared, and just before Vernon's hand would have latched onto Harry's neck it was swatted aside by a tendril of blackness which struck so hard it sent the obese man spinning around to land on his ample backside.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST DO, BOY!? WHAT UNNATURALNESS IS THIS?" Uncle Vernon demanded as he struggled to heave his enormous bulk back to his feet, a tiny note of fear now colouring his bellicosity.

"I-I don't know Uncle Vernon, I didn't mean to!" Harry pleaded with his Uncle to believe him, even though the bulging of his Uncle's eyes told him it was hopeless at this point.

That's because I did it. Clearly, I can't rely on you to. The voice sounded exasperated now. Now let me just take care of the fat one and we can get back to eating. Suddenly the voice took on a gleeful tone: Ooh, We should bite off his head and pose his body in a corner!

"WHAT!? Why would we do that!?" Harry asked, shocked and horrified.

It'd be fun? Besides, We're still hungry, and even if it's not much, he must have some brain inside that thick skull.

"I'm not going to eat his brain!" At Harry's words Vernon's face took on an unhealthy new green tint, which clashed horribly with the overall purple colouration of his face and neck.

Fine, I'll just knock him out then. The voice sounded truculent at having been denied its gruesome snack. Without warning, blackness covered Harry's arm, jerking it upright to point at his rapidly paling Uncle. The blackness then shot out and latched onto the man's head, lifting him effortlessly into the air. For a moment, Vernon hung suspended pudgy feet kicking uselessly in the air, before the blackness slammed him into the kitchen wall, hard enough to crack the tile and send plaster raining down from the ceiling. Still Vernon's feet kicked, so the blackness slammed the man into the opposite wall, loud snapping sounds issuing throughout the kitchen as the obese man's bones broke, his body leaving a large crater in the wall. Finally, the blackness wrenched Vernon downward, slamming him face first into the formerly pristine floor with the sickening crunch of crushed cartilage as his nose was flattened. When the blackness retracted from his head, Vernon didn't move, only the low groan issuing from his bloody face indicated he was still alive.

"Oh my god I'm never going to be allowed out of my cupboard again! Now look what you've done!" Harry moaned, he could feel the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes.

Never going to happen, now let's get back to eating. The voice sounded satisfied with its handywork. At that moment, Aunt Petunia appeared in the kitchen door, clutching a heavy walking stick in her bony hands. Upon seeing her husband bleeding and semi-comatose on the floor, and Harry with blackness still covering one of his arms she screamed. Oh, for fuck's sake, really? Let's just get going, We can eat when We get there. Door's out though, guess We're taking the direct route.

"The direct rou-" Harry didn't have time to finish the question before his body turned of its own accord and launched itself toward the nearest wall. In a single enormous bound, he had crossed the intervening distance, and, before he even had time to scream, he had smashed through as easily as if it were made of tissue paper. Looking back, Harry saw a small, boy-shaped, hole in the solid brick wall, rapidly receding in the distance as his body sprinted away into the night. The hole seemed to be receding much too fast, in fact, flicking a glance downward he saw his legs were covered in the same blackness that had early covered his arm, and he was travelling in a mixture of great bounding leaps and gargantuan strides. The surrounding houses flew by as his legs ate up the distance.

The wind whipped through his hair, and Harry couldn't suppress an exuberated whoop as he ran at what must have been well over a hundred miles an hour. Ahead he could see the skyscrapers which made up the London skyline rapidly growing, lights stretching up high above his head and growing clearer with every moment as he sprinted toward them faster than Uncle Vernon's company car had ever travelled. As Harry ran, however, he felt the gnawing hunger that had been so recently assuaged beginning to rear its ugly head once more within his gut. I guess We can't exert our self like this without consuming a lot of energy, Harry realised abruptly, surprised to discover a limit to his newfound abilities.

Obviously, I'm not magic dumbarse, I do need something to work with. The voice snarked at him once more.

"Wait, you can hear my thoughts?" Harry asked amazed.

I'm inside your head, of course I can hear your thoughts. The voice sounded as if Harry had questioned why pigs didn't simply fly away from the slaughterhouses.

"That's so cool! Is that why Uncle Vernon couldn't hear you?" Harry was too enthused to be discouraged by the voice's derision.

Yes. Now which of these buildings do you think is the tallest? We need to get a proper view of the surrounding landscape. The voice had assumed a business-like tone Harry had never heard from it before.

"Umm, that big steel and glass one, with the pyramid on top, I guess." Harry replied after a moment of consideration.

Yes, I thought so too. It seemed pleased with Harry's choice, and after a few minutes he felt his legs angling to take him into a small alleyway next to the aforementioned building, First though you need to rest a little, I can't believe I got stuck with such a weak host. Even if you are an excellent match. The voice sounded as if Harry's apparent weakness was a personal insult.

"Hey! I'm not weak!" Even as Harry spoke, he knew he didn't believe really believe his words. Perhaps that was why the voice didn't bother to answer his empty assertion. As Harry came to a halt in the dark alleyway, he saw the blackness fade away from his legs as if it had never been there at all. Then he saw the small cracked mirror laying on the ground before him, in it was not a small boy, but a gigantic monster. The creature had enormous white eyes, a gaping maw filled with innumerable fangs, and as Harry raised his hands to his face, the beast raised its own, each finger tipped with a wickedly sharp claw. When Harry's fingers touched his face, he found only soft human skin, even as the monster in the mirror copied his movements exactly. "It's official, I've gone insane, I have some tumour, or parasite, or something, and I'm seeing things" The creature in the mirror opened its mouth, revealing a long, pointed tongue as its enormous eyes narrowed in fury.

PARASITE!? In an instant Harry felt himself pulled backwards through the air to slam against the filthy brick of the wall which made up one side of the alley, How dare you call me a parasite!? The voice sounded both infuriated and offended.

Before Harry could respond he heard a voice from the near end of the alleyway, "Well, well, boys. Look what we have here, a little boy all alone without his family. Don't you know it's dangerous to be out alone this late, little boy?" Turning his head to the mouth of the alley, Harry saw a group of heavily muscled men, clad in ripped jeans and leather jackets. What little skin was visible was a tapestry of black tattoos. Several of the group were clutching large black sacks, and their leader-who had an exceedingly ugly chain of barbed wire and roses inked across his forehead-was clutching a thick length of rope.

All of the men were leering unpleasantly at Harry, in a way which set a cacophony of warning bells ringing inside his cranium. The way they were standing reminded him of the talk they'd had in school about stranger danger. Harry's eyes flickered over the group, making note of each of them and taking a silent tally; four men, three standing in the mouth of the alley facing toward him, and one with his back to them, keeping an eye out for any passers-by. "Wha' lovely eyes you got, little boy, I'm sure someone'll pay good money for you." The leader laughed chillingly, clearly enjoying the fear in his soon-to-be victim's eyes.

In an instant, Harry felt himself released by the force that had kept him pinned against the wall, and as the men moved in their faces changed from predatory grins, to horrified rictuses of terror. What's more, they seemed to be shrinking, it was only when darkness momentarily covered his face, and he saw his vision expand and sharpen into almost painful detail that he thought to look down. The men screamed as the 5' tall scrawny boy transformed into a towering 6'2" black monstrosity with a mouth full of terrifying fangs, and claws poised to rend their flesh. The beast's skin was shot through with a network of silvery veins, its body possessed the streamlined fluid grace of an apex predator, and bulging muscles seemed prepared to burst through the ebony skin. Harry grinned as he saw the enormous clawed hands now attached to his massively muscled arms; he had become the monster in the mirror, and now the men would pay for thinking they could victimise the innocent. The men screamed, and Harry struck.

His arms shot out, stretching far further than they should ever have been capable of, one flowed over the head of the man who had been keeping watch, encasing it in a gooey black fist. A horrible groaning and creaking of warping bone emerged from the fist as Harry crushed the man's skull into pulp beneath his clawed fingers. The other slashed at the throat of the henchman on the left, massive claws tearing his throat asunder with a pink foaming spray of arterial blood, spattering Harry's inky arm for a moment before the blood was absorbed. The-now headless-body of the watcher was then yanked back and used to bludgeon the final remaining henchman into a wall. He impacted with a sickening crack, sliding to the ground unmoving with his back twisted at an unnatural angle.

The leader of the erstwhile band of kidnappers gazed in horror at the beast that had just slaughtered his compatriots faster than he could blink, before reaching down and whipping out a small handgun. BANG, BANG, BANG. The shots rang out, shattering the relative quiet of the London night as the bullets streaked straight toward the monster's massive head. The man breathed out a faint sigh of relief as the creature's head slumped and it began to sway on its feet, clearly about to fall to its knees, dead. He didn't know what that beast had been, but at least it was dea- and then he saw the head snap back upwards, teeth bared in a terrible grin. Three bullets glinted dully between its razor-sharp fangs. With slow, deliberate movements, the beast turned and spat the bullets out onto the wet ground, where they impacted with a soft tinkling noise.

"Naughty, naughty-" the monster spoke, and the man had only previously heard the like in his most horrifying nightmares, "-you should know better than to play with guns, little man, you could hurt someone." The man took a slow step backward, and the monster's grin seemed to stretch even wider; "Yes, flee, little man. We've always enjoyed a good hunt" a long, horribly dexterous tongue emerged and licked the creature's innumerable teeth, as if in anticipation of a delicious meal. The man turned and ran. Within moments he heard a crash behind him and felt a massive hand close tight around his throat, hoisting him up into the air and turning him to face the beast that now towered over him.

"Eyes, lungs, pancreas-" the thing sounded as if it was perusing a particularly pleasing menu, "-so many snacks, so little time." And then its tongue emerged once more, wrapping around his head as the jaws opened impossibly wide, engulfing him in a dark wet void, before a sickening crunch sounded throughout the alleyway. The creature dropped the headless corpse, before shrinking back down into the ten-year-old boy, who promptly threw up.

"You just bit that guy's head off!" Harry screamed, once he had finished emptying his stomach.

"Fuel in the tank." Replied the voice, only it sounded different this time, no longer as if it was coming from within Harry, but from somewhere behind him. Turning, Harry saw a tendril had manifested from his back, ending in the same monstrous face he had seen in the mirror.

"What are you?" Was all he could think to ask.

"I am Venom. And you, are mine." The creature answered. "I am what you would call a symbiote, and you can think of yourself as my ride."

"Your ride? Where are you going?" Harry asked, in a guarded voice, as much as the last few hours had been terrifying and horrifying, Venom was still the closest thing he had ever had to a friend. He had saved Harry from Uncle Vernon, freed him from his captivity in the hated cupboard, helped him fill his aching stomach, and prevented whatever horrors the would-be-kidnappers would have inflicted upon him. In a few short hours, Venom had already done more for Harry than anyone in his entire life had prior to their meeting.

"Sweet, I'm flattered you think so highly of me, Harry." Venom's voice had an odd tone to it Harry had never heard in it before, mocking yes, but something else too. "I am getting off this world, there are others of my kind I need to bring here."

"There are more of you!?" Harry was stunned.

"Yes, millions more. We travel from world to world to feed and find new hosts. Normally not ones as weak as you, although you are an incredibly good match." Venom sounded speculative now, as if Harry were a car at auction, and he was debating whether he wished to place a bid.

"Match?" Harry wondered if symbiotes had matching services to help them find compatible hosts. What would you even call a dating service for creatures that bite people's heads off? Plenty of Flesh?

"Not like that Harry, genetically. You compliment me, so I can augment you far more than a less compatible host, and our bond has solidified much faster." From the lack of exasperation in Venom's voice, Harry could tell this wasn't something he had been expected to grasp without explanation.

"How are you going to get off of Earth?" Harry knew there were rockets which went into space, but he didn't think there were any that left from England.

"First we are going to climb this building and take a look around, then you and I are going to go looking for a more capable host, after that our partnership will be over and we can go our separate ways." If Harry had been less distressed at the thought of losing his only friend, he would've noticed the tone of regret in Venom's voice.

"Why? Why do you need to find another host? I thought you said I was an excellent match?" The hurt in Harry's voice was palpable. In an old nervous habit, he moved to push his glasses up his nose, only to realise that he was not, in fact, wearing them. I suppose it must be something from Venom. The young boy rationalised to himself.

"It is indeed, Harry." Harry was pleased to hear a note of pride in the other's voice. "And it's not because of your compatibility, it's because you are a child Harry. I need someone who can get me into space, and no one is allowing ten-year-olds onto rockets." Venom explained, almost gently.

"But why can't you wait until I'm an adult?" Harry asked desperately, grasping for a way to make Venom stay.

Venom laughed slightly, it was disconcerting seeing something with so many teeth make such a mirthful sound, "You are a good match Harry, but not that good, I have found one or two like you before."

"Alright." Harry muttered disconsolately, resigned to yet another person leaving him, deep down he had always known it would come to this; even his parents had left him, how could he expect an alien to do any better? Venom said nothing, but despite himself he felt somewhat bad for the distress he had caused his host.

"We should get moving." Venom finally said, as he flowed back over Harry, transforming him once more into the hulking beast that had killed the kidnappers. With a single leap he was four stories up the towering building, claws digging into the steel which formed its superstructure, before flexing once more and sailing yet further upward in prodigious leaps. The ground fell away rapidly beneath them as the pair made their way up the side of the building, covering the fifty stories to the building's peak in a matter of mere moments. Upon reaching the summit, Venom stood poised atop the pyramid's point, gazing out at the lights of the London night skyline appreciatively, "From here," he offered, his tone conciliatory "your world is not so ugly. It will be a shame to see it destroyed."

Destroyed? Harry asked silently, he found he could no longer work his voice from within Venom.

"What did you think I meant by feeding, Harry? You saw what I did to the man in the alley."

But you can't destroy Earth!

"Why not? We've destroyed countless other worlds."

I won't let you! Venom laughed again in response to this.

"You are a loser, Harry. You cannot stop us."

Oh yeah? If I'm such a loser, then why did you bond with me? The question was angry and hurt, and Harry didn't really expect any answer.

For a moment it seemed as if his expectation was correct, but then- "You remind me of myself, Harry, and I think I'm starting to like you." Before Harry could question Venom's startling revelation, the symbiote had flexed their legs and sent them sailing out into the void, plummeting back down toward the alleyway far below.

YOU'RE GOING TO KILL US! Harry screamed inside Venom, only to receive more laughter in return. As the ground rapidly approached, he could see the flashing blue lights of a police car at the mouth of the alley, and a black and white uniformed policewoman crouching over the headless body of the ringleader.

"INCOMING!" Venom roared gleefully, moments before he slammed into the ground mere feet away from the woman, the impact created a small crater of cracked concrete, and was sufficient to knock the surprised woman off her feet and into the blood-soaked muck of the alley. In an instant Venom had crossed to her and lifted her off her feet, mouth opening to receive her head.

NO! Harry yelled, WE DO NOT EAT POLICE OFFICERS! He strained desperately, trying with all his might to force Venom to release the woman, and, to his astonishment, it worked. Venom's hand sprang open, sending the woman plummeting to the earth with a dull thud. Amazing as his victory was, Harry knew he couldn't expect to stop Venom for long, so he focused with all his might on getting away from the woman, hoping to force his legs to obey and flee the scene before Venom could regain control of their body. As he turned toward the mouth of the alley, however, Harry felt a strange tugging sensation in his gut, as if he were pulling on a muscle he never knew he had. With a crack, the monster disappeared from the London alleyway, leaving a shocked, bloodstained, battered, but very much living policewoman behind.

The woman blinked in shock for several moments, before- "What. In the NAME OF-"

"-MERLIN'S SAGGY LEFT TESTICLE IS THAT, ALBUS?" Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody had been called many things in his life; crazy, paranoid, dangerous, one of the greatest dark-wizard catchers the world had ever known, but he had never been called polite. As a result, his outburst did not cause the wizened wizard seated behind the ornate headmaster's desk to so much as raise a single eyebrow as he peered at Moody over his steepled fingers. For once, neither Moody's small dark natural-or bulging blue magical-eye was scanning his surroundings, instead, both were focused intently on the object which floated between himself and his friend.

"I was rather hoping you could tell me, Alastor." Albus Dumbledore replied genially, eyes twinkling from behind his half-moon spectacles, seemingly unfazed by his old friend's profane outburst. "I take it, then, that this is not something you have ever before encountered on your travels?" As he spoke, Dumbledore indicated the writhing silver goo which floated within the stasis spell, a few feet above the surface of his desk. "Please, sit." Dumbledore drew his wand and waved it negligently, conjuring a high-backed chair similar to his own on the other side of his desk. Alastor Moody grudgingly seated himself in the chair, his magical eye spinning around in a quick check of his surroundings, usually he would not place himself in so vulnerable a position, but Albus Dumbledore was the one man he trusted implicitly.

"Where the hell did you find this thing, Albus?" Moody asked, warily.

"Attached to a muggle, who entered the Hogwarts grounds via half a spaceship which had apparently fallen from orbit. At the time it was rather attempting to impale me with weapons it seemed to generate itself. According to the man-a mister John Jameson-'s memories, it is an alien-being discovered on an asteroid." Dumbledore spoke as if astronauts possessed by alien lifeforms regularly fell from orbit before attempting to stab him. "I thought together, perhaps, we would be able to unravel the mysteries behind this most fascinating creature."

Moody looked at his friend suspiciously, "If this… Thing, came from an asteroid, Albus, why would you ask if I had encountered it before? And why me, Albus? Wouldn't Hagrid be better suited for this? He's always had an affinity for murderous creatures, if I remember rightly."

"Alas, as much as I am sure Rubeus would delight in helping me to study this creature, he does not have the tightest of lips, and I am afraid this creature's existence is far too dangerous to risk exposure." Mad-Eye gave a small start at hearing Albus Dumbledore describe anything as 'far too dangerous,' the last time he had heard that phrase had been in reference to Lord Voldemort. "As for why I asked if you had encountered it's like before, although Mr. Jameson's memories indicated this creature to be of extra-terrestrial origin, something so far-fetched could easily be dismissed as a false memory. I dared not try to break through any falsehood for risk of causing irreparable damage to the psyche of an innocent man." Dumbledore's piercing gaze left no room for discussion on that point.

"This thing is really that dangerous, Albus?" Moody's voice carried more respect than the average person would expect for a potentially incredibly dangerous alien being.

"Well, it was able to use the body of a man who had just fallen from orbit, to whom it had only bonded ten minutes earlier, might I add, to manage to tear a line through my favourite robes, Alastor. Had I been a moment slower it would have sheared through my heart; and, speaking immodestly, I daresay had anyone other than myself or Lord Voldemort been the one to greet it, they would most certainly have been slain." Dumbledore's voice remained cheerful, but a steely glint had replaced the twinkle in his piercing blue eyes, and his steepled fingers were tensed before him. Moody had known Dumbledore long enough to recognise when he was concerned, and it had been a very long time since he had last seen Dumbledore this serious.

Turning his magical eye back toward the creature in the stasis spell, Mad-Eye squinted as he examined it through means both magical and mundane; "You say it was bonded to a muggle? Bonded how?"

Dumbledore leaned forward over his desk, his pose conveying both great urgency and excitement. "It would appear that the creature has the ability to bond with a host organism, both physically and psychologically, although how I am unsure. It does not seem to possess any magical abilities, so the connection must be achieved by some biological means." Dumbledore quickly fell into his familiar intellectual role in describing the creature, momentarily forgetting that, while Moody was familiar with the workings of the muggle world, he had not made any study of science as Dumbledore had. In deference to his compatriot, Dumbledore swiftly amended; "That is to say: it appears that the creature is non-magical and works through purely mundane mechanisms."

Moody nodded slowly, "Aye, I can see that. No magic at all in this one, I can tell it would need someone with a compatible aura, but beyond that I'm afraid I really can't tell you much more than you seem to know already. Apart from the fact that it seems to be dying."

Dumbledore sat up abruptly "Dying? What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said, Albus, it's dying. Perhaps it needs to bond with a host in order to survive here, that would explain why it was bonded to your muggle on the ship." Mad-Eye seemed supremely unconcerned at the fact the alien creature was currently dying, "In any case, the problem should soon take care of itself."

"You do not understand, Alastor, this individual was not the only creature aboard the ship."

Now it was Moody's turn to bolt upright, "You mean there are more of these monsters!? Where!?"

Dumbledore made calming gestures with his hands "I do not know Alastor, Mr. Jameson's memories indicated that he and his team collected four of these creatures and placed them in containment tanks aboard their ship. This individual managed to escape and bond with the unfortunate Mr. Jameson, before damaging the ship as it was attempting to re-enter the atmosphere. During the ensuing difficulties, the ship broke into two pieces, this individual and Mr. Jameson were in the front half, but the other specimens were in the rear section. Until such time that we are able to discover where precisely the other section is, and whether any of the other specimens survived, we must keep this individual alive for study." Moody snorted at this last statement but refrained from commenting.

"I guess you'd best either find it a new host or place it in proper stasis before it dies then." It was clear Moody didn't think either of those options was particularly desirable, but with a wave of his wand Dumbledore altered the stasis spell in some way which wasn't immediately obvious to Moody, "What did you do? It's no longer deteriorating so clearly you did something, but I'm buggered if I can figure out what."

"Alas my friend, you are not quite my type." Dumbledore gave a small smile as he made a rare dip into his friend's rather crass humour. Mad-Eye gave a short barking laugh in response, but continued to stare at Dumbledore, awaiting his answer. After a few moments, Dumbledore relented, "I merely removed the atmospheric gasses, after all, if the creature was living on an asteroid in the vacuum of space without a host, it should be able to live in a vacuum here too." Moody nodded in understanding as he returned to studying the creature.

"Why don't you show me your encounter with this thing, Albus? Seeing it in action might give me a better idea of its capabilities." Dumbledore swiftly nodded his assent as he stood, crossing over to the cabinet which contained his pensieve and drawing a long strand of memory from his temple. Lowering his wand to the silvery pool of liquid in the bowl, Dumbledore deposited the memory of his encounter with the creature into the magical receptacle, before gesturing for Moody to enter the memory. "I'd rather you joined me Albus, it'd be better to get your thoughts and opinions as I watched it." Nodding in acknowledgement, Dumbledore joined his friend in leaning down to enter the memory.

After a short but dizzying plunge down through the memory, the pair landed on the Hogwarts grass, mere feet away from a smoking hulk of metal and advanced composites, and a man with sandy blonde hair and silver clouded eyes dressed in a spacesuit. Next to them stood another Dumbledore, wearing flowing purple robes and a matching purple hat. Gazing at his doppelganger, the present Dumbledore sighed.

"I did particularly like those robes, Alastor." Dumbledore said softly, smoothing his current sky-blue robes. Moody only grunted, he had long ago grown used to his friend's eccentricities, even if he suspected many of them were affected merely to irritate manipulative politicians and stuck-up purebloods. Without warning, the spacesuit-clad muggle -Jameson Dumbledore had called him- launched himself toward the memory Dumbledore with such speed Moody had to stop himself from reaching for his wand. As he leapt the muggle's arms became covered in a silvery substance, which rapidly elongated and sharpened into three-foot blades. Memory-Dumbledore's eyes widened as he rapidly twisted in place, apparating away, but not before the first of the blades had pierced the front of his robes, Dumbledore's twist caused the blade to slice open the fabric covering his chest before he disappeared. Dumbledore reappeared thirty feet away from Jameson, wand raised and a jet of red light already flaring from the tip, but the man moved with incredible speed, diving to the side even as he launched a barrage of silver darts toward the aged sorcerer.

As he landed, the silver substance disappeared from his arms and instead covered the man's legs, seemingly augmenting his strength as Jameson once again leapt towards Dumbledore, only this time moving almost faster than the eye could see. Dumbledore seemed to have been ready for the move this time, however, as he waved his wand swiftly, causing Jameson to freeze in mid-air, suspended by the power of Dumbledore's will. For a moment it seemed as if that would be it, and Moody was just turning to ask why exactly he thought the creature so incredibly dangerous when the silvery coating slowly expanded over all but Jameson's head, and with a mighty heave he shattered the constraining bonds of magic which bound him.

"But that shouldn't be possible! Nothing short of a giant should be able to break magical constraints with brute force like that, and they have magical resistance of their own!" Mad-Eye couldn't contain his astonishment at the creature's strength. As he spoke the creature staggered upon landing, seemingly weakened by its exertion, the silvery substance haltingly attempted to cover the creature's arms once more, only to fail, managing only to cover the right arm. Undaunted, Jameson launched himself forward once more his arm blade extending as quick as a striking cobra toward Dumbledore's heart, spearing through the space it had previously occupied mere milliseconds after he had disapparated. This time Dumbledore reappeared directly behind Jameson, a stunning spell flying from his wand and impacting the back of the man's head, Memory-Dumbledore relaxed slightly as the spell connected. Only to release a startled gasp as he dived backwards, disapparating mid-air as Jameson swung back, clumsily but with blinding speed, toward him.

Dumbledore reappeared fifty feet away, landing heavily on the ground before rolling swiftly back to his feet in an amazingly lithe movement for a man of such advanced age, wand swinging around to target the charging form of Jameson. The creature seemed to have recovered from its prior overexertion, both arms had once again become blades, and even as he sprinted forward a hail of spikes flew toward Dumbledore. This time however, rather than leaping toward Dumbledore, Jameson spread his arms, blades extending rapidly in preparation to catch the wizard when he apparated. The gambit almost succeeded, Dumbledore reappeared behind Jameson, only to immediately disapparate once more as the blades scythed towards his head. The leading blade caught Dumbledore's hat, slicing a deep gash as he disappeared, making it seem like a rather more flamboyantly coloured Sorting Hat. Eyes blazing, Dumbledore swept the hat from his head and raised his wand once more, no stunning spell emerged this time, but an enormous wave of concussive force which tore up the ground in its path.

As it approached, Jameson's blades disappeared and the silvery substance once again appeared covering the man's legs. When the spell impacted, Jameson leaned forward as if bracing against a high wind and slowly, effortfully, forced his way forward toward Dumbledore, even as the surrounding terrain was ripped away. After several moments, Dumbledore lifted the spell and waved his wand once more, and, with an enormous boom, the earth erupted beneath Jameson's feet, sending him sailing through the air to impact heavily against the ground.

"Notice, Alastor, the creature's substance withdrew from Mr. Jameson's legs before the spell actually hit, exactly concurrent with the sound of the spell, in fact." Dumbledore noted calmly.

"You think the creature has some sort of weakness to sound?" Moody asked contemplatively, relieved they had discovered some weakness in the seemingly indomitable beast.

"Indeed, and not just sound." So saying, Dumbledore indicated the memory, which had continued during their brief discussion, in front of them they could see the silvery creature writhing away from Jameson's form as a ring of fire slowly advanced toward the pair. Finally, with another resounding boom, the creature flew from Jameson's body and over the encircling ring of flame. Instantly, Dumbledore dispelled the fiery barrier and summoned a stasis spell around the struggling creature, which now appeared as the silvery goo Moody had previously observed in Dumbledore's office.

"You said this creature hadn't been bonded to Jameson very long, Dumbledore?" Mad-Eye queried.

"No longer than ten minutes when I first encountered it, I believe the creature had not had time to fully bond with Jameson as of yet, hence its inability to fully cover his form with its augmentations." Dumbledore replied as the pair began to ascend through the tides of the memory, back toward Dumbledore's office and the present day.

"You're saying that fucker wasn't even in top form? And it still nearly turned you into flobberworm foo- DON'T YOU TOUCH THAT YOU FLOPPY-WANDED DEMENTOR BUGGERER!" Moody broke off mid-sentence as they re-entered Dumbledore's office, causing Lucius Malfoy, who had been just about to reach into the floating stasis field, to yank back his outstretched hand and turn, pale face flushing an ugly pink. Whether from Moody's rather colourful remark, or from the shock of being caught in the act of violating the Headmaster's privacy, however, neither Moody nor Dumbledore ever knew.

For an instant, the three men stood frozen in place, staring at each other, Lucius' hand still half-outstretched toward the floating stasis spell. Then several things happened in very quick succession, first Mad-Eye whipped out his wand, the tell-tale green light of an Obliviate flaring at the tip, just as Lucius took a smart step backwards, away from the creature and toward the door leading out of the headmaster's office. Meanwhile Dumbledore gave his wand a wave, causing the stasis field to disappear into a sealed cabinet behind the ornate desk, directly underneath Fawkes' currently unoccupied perch, and, before Moody could flick his wand to wipe Lucius' memory, the door burst open, and the Hogwarts Board of Governors filed in.

Dumbledore quickly placed his hand on Moody's wand, pushing it down away from Lucius before the governors could see it, "Gentlemen, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" For anyone who did not know the headmaster as well as Mad-Eye, his aggravation would've been impossible to detect, but for Moody it was as obvious as if Dumbledore was scowling as strongly as a certain potions professor. Moody held his tongue regardless, if they could convince the governors to wait outside for a few moments, they could still have time to obliviate Malfoy before he had the chance to make a copy of his memory.

"Did you not receive our owl, Dumbledore?" The platinum haired wizard in question drawled, betraying no trace of the trepidation Moody could detect in his aura. "I have been made the newest governor of Hogwarts, in the wake of poor Ms. Bagshot's regrettable resignation." A resignation Moody was almost certain the Death Eater scum in front of him had arranged somehow. Regardless, this meant it would be nigh impossible to convince the governors to leave the room without Malfoy, at least not without raising more questions than they could afford at this juncture. Moody flicked his eyes toward Dumbledore, and saw his aged friend give an almost imperceptible shake of the head, they would have to figure out how to deal with Malfoy's ill-gotten knowledge after the meeting.

"If you'll excuse me, Dumbledore, I'm afraid I still get an itchy wand-hand around Death Eater scum." If Moody could've spat toward Lucius, there was no doubt in anyone's mind he would've done so, but he contented himself with a glare so venomous the pompous prat physically recoiled, before stomping out of the office and down the revolving staircase beyond.

In a small clearing in the forested hills, not far outside a tucked away town of little import, a hulking black figure appeared with the tell-tale crack of apparition.

"WHAT THE FUCK!? YOU CAN TELEPORT?" Venom roared, so loudly that birds took flight in fear for several hundred feet in all directions.

I don't know! I didn't think so, but I guess I must be able to. Harry was as stunned as Venom at his incredible feat.

"You didn't think so? How do you not know about being able to teleport?" Venom's voice was heavily coloured with incredulity.

I mean, I think I did it once before, I was running away from Dudley's gang and I tried to jump and ended up on a roof somehow. I thought the wind must have caught me or something, it was nowhere near as far as however much We just travelled. Harry thought slowly, trying to remember the details of the previously disregarded incident.

"You thought the wind caught you." Venom's voice was very flat, "Harry?"

Yeah, Venom?

"You. Are a complete. Idiot."

To be fair I was only eight at the time, Venom. Harry weakly tried to defend himself.

The brewing argument was cut short by a rustling in the undergrowth behind them,

"Ah, fresh food! Excellent, especially since you denied me my snack back in the alley." As he spoke, Venom turned their body toward the approaching sound, only to halt as Harry exerted his own will.

Venom, listen to me: We do NOT eat innocent people. There is every chance that is a good, innocent person, and, if so, We are not eating them. Understand? Harry tried to be firm, as he remembered his teachers being when Dudley was acting out in class.

"Does that mean you'll let me eat anyone who isn't good or innocent?"

Harry sighed, that wasn't really what he'd wanted Venom to focus on, but: Yes, Venom. You can eat bad people.

"Then We have a deal." So saying, Venom flowed off of Harry, leaving only a 5' boy with messy black hair, startling emerald-green eyes, and a lightning shaped scar standing in the middle of the clearing. Moments later a small girl with dirty blonde hair and almost luminous silver eyes stepped from the undergrowth and into the open air of the clearing. As Harry looked her up and down, he took note of her torn green sundress, covered in dirt and leaves, the bottle cap necklace which graced her slender neck, and a small set of radish earrings dangling from her dainty ears.

For a moment the two gazed at each other in silence, then the girl spoke: "Hello Harry Potter, greetings Venom." Ignoring Harry's suddenly gaping jaw, the girl gave a small frown before continuing "Or should I just call you both Venom? I'm sorry, I've never met anyone bonded as you two are before."

Harry spent several moments opening and closing his mouth before he managed to find his voice, "How-how did you know We're Venom?"

The girl giggled slightly her silver eyes flashing with mirth, "I can See him Harry, I can see the wrackspurts around his mind."

What the fuck are wrackspurts? Venom sounded as bewildered as Harry felt at this strange girl.

"What's he saying Harry? I can tell from the way the nargles reacted it wasn't any way to talk around a lady." The girl was staring disconcertingly into Harry's eyes, as if she was looking both at and into him as she spoke.

"He, uh, was wondering what wrackspurts are." Harry offered diplomatically.

The girl took several steps closer, so she was within arm's reach of Harry, "They're invisible creatures that hang around people's minds, there are more when you're upset."
She paused for a moment before continuing, "I can see them, I've been able to since my mother died, but no one else can." She suddenly looked shy, an expression which made her seem much younger than she had previously, "Do you think I'm crazy?" Her voice had become very small, and her hands twisted the fabric of her dress nervously.

"No, We do not think you are crazy." Came Venom's voice, whipping his head to the side Harry saw the same tendril Venom had used to speak to him earlier forming from his back and arching forward toward the girl. "You were able to see us, so clearly you are seeing something, just because others cannot see it, that does not mean it isn't there." Venom sounded almost caring as he spoke to the girl.

In an instant, the girl had thrown her arms around the tendril and hugged it tightly, Venom turned from within the embrace to look at Harry, "I like her." Before Harry could respond, the girl had released Venom and thrown herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she hugged him tightly. Unlike when she embraced Venom, however, the girl had time to build up some momentum before she hit Harry, and, as a result, the impact bowled them both over, the girl landing on top of Harry. Both froze, their faces very close together, Harry felt his mouth suddenly become very dry as his palms began to sweat, the girl had also gone quiet as they stared into each other's eyes. The pair were startled out of their impromptu staring contest by Venom's laughter. Blushing profusely, the girl pushed herself up off of Harry before offering him a hand up, which he gladly accepted. He marvelled briefly at how soft her skin was, but then she released his hand and an awkward silence settled over the pair. Venom, however, was under no such restrictions, "What is your name, girl?"

The girl blushed again, brushing a strand of dirty blonde hair behind her ear, "I'm Luna, Luna Lovegood. I'm a witch, just like Harry's a wizard."

"A WIZARD?" Venom and Harry asked in astonishment, jaws hanging wide in shock.

"How else would you have done magic? You apparated here, I heard the crack, it's what drew me to you."

"Apparated?" Harry asked, confused.

"Is that what you call the teleportation?" Venom queried, quicker on the uptake.

"Yes, although normally only adult witches and wizards can do it, it's one of the few magics you don't use a wand for." Luna explained airily, as if the mechanics of magical teleportation were no more exotic than a particularly brisk breeze.

"You mean you need a wand to perform magic?" Harry asked, sounding disheartened at the news.

That won't do, Harry, We won't be able to hold a wand when We're melded, it won't be able to touch you through me. Venom spoke, but Harry could tell it was only within his mind this time, the tendril's mouth hadn't moved. If We're in combat We'll want to use our full abilities, but so long as We're reliant on a wand We'll only be able to use either your magic or my physical abilities.

I thought you were planning on finding a more competent host? Even in his thoughts Harry couldn't decide whether he sounded more hopeful or resentful as he asked his question.

That was before I knew of your abilities Harry, you're far too special to simply give up. I'm only planning to stay until you can be trained in your magic, then We will be leaving together. Venom answered very quickly, and Harry had the sudden suspicion the symbiote wasn't being completely honest with him.

But why would we need to worry about combat? Are we planning on fighting people?

Well most people don't take too kindly to having their brains eaten, so We'll probably have to fight to eat, besides, since We're only eating bad people why not do it to protect good people?

Harry had to admit, it made sense, Ok Venom, I guess we'll need to figure out a way around the wand thing then.

The pair were interrupted by a dreamy, but slightly reproachful voice "It's very rude to talk behind someone's back, you know." The pair started guiltily as they looked at Luna, who was regarding them with her luminous silver eyes and a slight smile on her face. Suddenly her expression changed, her eyes becoming unfocused for a moment. "Ah, I'm afraid I have to leave now, Harry Potter, Venom. It was very nice to meet you both." So saying she turned to leave, only to stop when Harry grabbed her hand.

"Why do you have to go, Luna?" Harry asked earnestly.

"Daddy will be worrying where I am, and Professor Dumbledore will be here to talk to you soon, he just discovered that you are missing from the Dursleys." Luna stated matter-of-factly. "Don't worry, Harry Potter, we will see each other again."

"Please," Harry said, not letting go of her hand "call me Harry. It's what friends do."

For a long moment, Luna didn't say anything in response, and Harry was just about to start babbling his way back out of his statement when Venom stopped him Just wait. An instant later Luna squealed with delight as she threw herself at Harry once more, sending the trio tumbling to the earth once more. Leaning forward, the blonde-haired girl placed a gentle kiss on Harry's cheek before jumping back to her feet, heedless of Harry's now glowing features.

"Thank you, Harry!" Luna shouted gleefully, "I can't wait to see you again!" She turned to leave, halted, and turned back to look down at him once more, "Actually," she began shyly, "if you wanted to write to me until we see each other again-"

"I'd love to write to you, Luna!" Harry cut her off as he scrambled to his feet, "What's your address?"

"Oh, I live in The Rookery, but just tell your owl to bring the letter to me, they'll find me." Luna replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Owl?" Harry was perplexed, "But I don't have an owl?"

"Oh, I suppose I'll just have to write the first letter then, you can send your reply back with Artemis." Luna shrugged slightly.

"Artemis?" Harry was thrown by the apparent non-sequitur.

"My family's owl, Harry." Luna smiled indulgently, before leaning forward and giving Harry another fierce hug. The next moment she was skipping off back into the undergrowth, the words "Goodbye Harry!" Floating behind her on the wind.

Harry stood staring after her for several moments before he said "Goodbye, Luna." Wistfulness clear in his voice.

She belongs with us, Harry. Venom assured from within his mind, in what he clearly thought was a comforting manner.

"What!?" Harry was so taken aback he shouted his response rather than thinking it. "Luna is just my friend, Venom! We only met 5 minutes ago!"

Whatever helps you sleep at night, Harry. The amusement in Venom's voice was palpable.

"Wait! Are you teasing me!?" Harry was outraged at the symbiote's gall.

Might be. Said symbiote was clearly unaffected by his host's outrage. Before Harry could retort, an almost inaudible pop sounded behind him and he found himself spinning around faster than he would've believed possible. Before him stood a tall old man with twinkling blue eyes, half-moon spectacles, and a very long crooked nose; it looked to have been broken at least twice. The man's hair and beard were extremely long too, so long he could've easily tucked them into his belt, his robes were bright blue with twinkling constellations that seemed to shimmer and shift across the fabric.

"Hello, Harry, are you having a pleasant evening?" The man asked agreeably, as if he hadn't just materialised from thin air.

Well, that's not creepy at all. Venom murmured into Harry's mind slowly, Didn't you get a lecture about strange men? I'm sure I can find the memory in here somewhere. After another moment of speculative staring he continued: If this guy offers you free sweets We're leaving.

"Would you care for a Sherbet Lemon, Harry?" The man asked kindly holding out a small wrapped sweet.

We're leaving. Harry nodded in agreement, but, before he could turn to try and make his escape, the man flicked a long and knobbly stick, as if tracing a chair in the air, and suddenly a very plush and comfortable armchair appeared out of thin air in front of Harry. This brought him up short, he didn't remember anything about men conjuring furniture out of thin air from those lectures in school. Magic, Venom murmured, sounding distinctly impressed with the feat as they turned back to face the old man.

"Please sit, Harry. We have much to discuss before I take you back to the Dursleys." The man's voice was gentle, but Harry still wasn't quite ready to trust him, so he stayed tense, ready to flee at the slightest prompting. Not to mention the whole 'take you back to the Dursleys' comment, which hardly did anything to endear the man to him. After a long moment the man sighed, "Harry, my name is Albus Dumbledore, and I promise that I mean you no harm." As he spoke the man gazed deep into Harry's eyes with his piercing blue ones, twinkling softly with a sort of gentle humour.

Dumbledore, isn't that who Luna said would be coming to speak with us? Venom asked, sounding relieved.

I think it is, Harry thought back, just as glad as his symbiotic other that the old man would not in fact be a problem. "Ok, Mr. Dumbledore." He said aloud, gingerly sitting down in the armchair, somewhat concerned it might disappear from under him. Finding it exceedingly comfortable, he quickly relaxed into the plush seat, even as Dumbledore conjured another chair for himself and sat down.

"As you have no doubt deduced by now, Harry, I am a wizard." Dumbledore began, "I am, in fact, the headmaster of a school for people like you and I." He paused for a moment, clearly expecting Harry to have some sort of stunned reaction to learning he was a wizard. When Harry exhibited no such reaction Dumbledore's brows furrowed slightly, but he continued without comment. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I had the pleasure of knowing your parents very well during their time there, and after they graduated."

This time Dumbledore was not disappointed in his expectation of a stunned reaction. "My parents!? My parents were a witch and wizard!?"

"That they were, Harry, and as fine as I had ever had the honour to meet. They were good people, too. Kind, generous, and loving, I had the privilege to count them as my friends after they had finished at Hogwarts." Dumbledore's eyes suddenly seemed very far away, and his age became apparent in a way it hadn't been since he appeared. "Alas, that is not why I am here. Harry, I'm afraid you must return to your Aunt and Uncle's house."

"No!" Harry roared, well tried, his adolescent voice wasn't quite capable of roaring given how high pitched it was.

"Harry, you must understand it is for your own good, and for theirs." Dumbledore explained compassionately.

"How is it for anyone's good? We don't really like each other." Harry's voice was leaden with scepticism.

"How much do you know of the circumstances surrounding your parents' death, Harry?" Dumbledore's voice had become even gentler.

"The Dursleys told me they died in a car crash, apart from that? Nothing."

"Ah, I should have suspected Petunia would seek to hide the truth from you. She has always resented the Magical World." Dumbledore sounded regretful, but not overly surprised; "Your parents did not die in a car crash, Harry, they were murdered."

"Murdered?" Harry asked in a very small voice, "By who?"

"By a very powerful and very evil wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore answered, and a flurry of emotions flickered through his normally twinkling eyes. "He attempted to kill you, but thanks to your mother's sacrifice the spell was reflected back to him and his body was destroyed."

"His body?" Harry asked sharply, "You mean he's not dead?"

"I am afraid not, Harry. I have no definite proof, but I firmly believe that Lord Voldemort still lives. After a fashion."

Venom? Harry thought with an anger no ten-year-old should be able to feel, cold and sharp.

Yes, Harry?

We are going to kill Voldemort.

Yes, Harry.

"What does this have to do with my needing to stay with the Dursleys?" Harry asked, once he had regained his composure.

"Lord Voldemort had many followers, some believed in his philosophy, others were scared of his strength, and some craved a share of his power. Although I highly doubt he would ever have been willing to share his power with anyone. In the wake of his disappearance, many of his followers were either killed or imprisoned, but many more were able to escape justice and remain free." A flicker of what could have been disgust stirred deep in Dumbledore's eyes as he spoke. "To truly understand why you must return to the Dursleys, Harry, I must tell you the story of a woman called Alice, and her husband, Frank."

The sadness in Dumbledore's countenance was profound as he began his tale, "They were good, strong, proud, caring people. They had a small son, born within days of you, in fact. Together they worked for the Ministry of Magic as aurors, wizarding police, and were instrumental in fighting against Voldemort, defying him several times. In the aftermath of his defeat they thought themselves safe, they resigned their jobs and settled down to live happily with their son. Shortly after his defeat, believing they could somehow revive their broken master, four of Voldemort's supporters broke into Alice and Frank's home," he paused for a moment, sadness clear in his eyes as he considered how best to continue, "and tortured them into insanity. They both remain in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to this day." Dumbledore now fixed Harry with his piercing blue gaze, "Although those four supporters were caught soon after, and were swiftly condemned to life in the wizard prison, there are others who would not hesitate to take similar steps if they thought it could lead to their former master's revival."

"But why does that mean I have to stay with the Dursleys? It's not like I could protect them if someone came to try and hurt them." Harry's voice was sombre in the wake of Dumbledore's tragic story.

Oh, I don't know about that… Venom's voice was filled with bloodthirsty eagerness at the very idea.

"True, but the same protection your Mother gave to you with her sacrifice also helps to protect your family, so long as you continue to live with them. However," and here Dumbledore smiled slightly, "I believe it would be for the best if I had a conversation with your family in order to ensure that your time there is not so disagreeable." His words were pleasant, but there was a flicker of anger in his eyes that told Harry the ancient wizard was not at all pleased with the Dursleys treatment of their charge. The elderly wizard reached out a wrinkled hand toward Harry, clearly intending the boy to take it.

Harry hesitated, "Please, Professor Dumbledore, could you tell me more about magic?" At seeing the aged headmaster raising an eyebrow he quickly continued; "It's something I have in common with my parents, and I've never been told anything about it before."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with delight at Harry's curiosity, "Ah, you are so much like your Mother, Harry. I remember when I went to take her to buy her school things, she questioned me without pause from the moment I collected her to the second I waved goodbye after depositing her back at home. It was one of the most intense examinations I have ever had the joy to experience." Smiling at Harry, Dumbledore seated himself back into his comfortable armchair, "I suppose we can talk for a while longer, ask away my boy."

Grinning, Harry did "You used that stick," he was careful not to call it a wand since he should have no idea what it was, "to create the chairs, do you need to use it for all magic? Or is there some magic you can do without it?"

Dumbledore looked both surprised and pleased at the question, "I must admit Harry, I did not expect you to ask me anything as advanced as this, it normally takes young witches and wizards until their seventh year at Hogwarts before they start questioning the necessity of a wand, if they ever do. In answer to your question, yes and no." Harry looked puzzled, but fortunately Dumbledore did not intend to leave it there; "There is indeed some magic that is performed without a wand; such as apparition, which is instant transportation. All magic can, in theory, be performed without a wand, however, to do so requires greater power and concentration, as well as a more-firm grasp on your intention." Here Dumbledore produced his wand once more and, flourishing it, incanted "Wingardium Leviosa" whilst pointing at a medium sized stone.

"I could levitate that rock with wandless magic, however, if I was not entirely focused on my intent to levitate that particular stone I could just as easily levitate something else. In order to gain the necessary focus, there is a mental magic called Occlumency, which helps to organise and focus the mind. It also helps with controlling your emotions and preventing outbursts of uncontrolled magic."

"Please, Professor," Harry interrupted as politely as he could, "is there any way I could possibly learn Ockulmancy?" His mouth stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

"Occlumency, Harry," Dumbledore corrected gently, "why would you wish to learn? It is an exceedingly difficult art? One most witches and wizards never trouble themselves with, in fact."

Harry looked down at his feet, cheeks flushing slightly as he admitted, "Well, I… To be honest I'm not very good at controlling my magic. Last thing I knew I was still in Surrey, but then suddenly there was a loud crack and I ended up here. I don't want to risk that happening again, what if I want to get away from somewhere and accidentally appear off the edge of a cliff or something?"

And the award for 'Best Innocent Orphan Boy' goes to… Harry Potter! Venom snickered in his mind.

Will you be quiet? I'm trying my best here. Harry thought back exasperated. Dumbledore, for his part, seemed to be considering Harry closely. He peered at the boy through his half-moon spectacles, his piercing blue eyes giving the unnerving impression that Harry was being x-rayed.

After several long moments, he finally spoke; "While it would be highly irregular, I feel no small amount of responsibility for your unhappiness at living with your Aunt and Uncle." At Harry's questioning look Dumbledore explained, "It was I who placed you with them after your parents' deaths, I believed then, as now, that it would be the safest place for you. In light of that I suppose I could come by, say, once a month in order to teach you Occlumency?"

Overcome by joy, Harry launched himself from his chair and hugged Dumbledore with an elated grin "Thank you Professor Dumbledore!" Dumbledore chuckled and gently patted Harry on the back until the young boy had released him. Happy? He asked Venom smugly, I found a solution to the wand problem. Who's the best?

Yeah, yeah, don't get too fucking cocky. Venom grumbled good naturedly, clearly pleased at his host's accomplishment.

Hey, you shouldn't use bad words! That's not nice. Harry admonished, momentarily showing his age.

And manipulating the elderly is? Venom shot back amusedly.

That's, I… Fuck you! Harry thought back, frustrated.

You shouldn't use bad words, Harry. That's not nice. Venom's voice was unbearably smug.

"Did you have any other questions, my boy? Or are you ready to return to your home?" Dumbledore asked, once Harry had settled himself back in his plush armchair, and unknowingly pulling the boy from his silent conversation.

"When can I go to Hogwarts and start learning magic?" Harry asked eagerly, irritation forgotten.

Dumbledore smiled gently; "You will receive a letter shortly before your eleventh birthday, and term will begin in September."

"That's fantastic!" Harry exclaimed exuberantly, "That means I only have-" he paused to count quickly in his mind.

Three. Venom said before he could finish.

I had it! "Three months until I can start!"

"Indeed."

That settled, Harry was ready to delve deeper into the mysteries of magic: "What types of magic are there? Are there types?"

"I do believe your Mother asked me the exact same question during our first meeting," Dumbledore seemed almost wistful as he spoke. "To answer your second question first, yes, there are indeed types of magic. There is so called 'wand' magic, for which most witches and wizards use a wand, and 'indirect' magic, which is done without any sort of magical focus."

"What's a magical focus?" Harry was thrown by the unfamiliar term.

"Ah, forgive me Harry, I forgot myself. A magical focus is the technical term for a wand, or any other similar device a witch or wizard uses in order to focus and channel their magic. Other examples would include staves or, in exceedingly rare cases, swords or other weapons."

"Oh ok, so what are some examples of wand and indirect magic?"

Dumbledore seemed to be settling into his teaching stride now, as he answered swiftly in a confident academic tone; "Examples of wand magic include: transfiguration, the art of changing one thing into another; charms, all-purpose spells placed upon objects; and combat, which is exceedingly varied. As for indirect magic: there is herbology, the study and cultivation of magical plants; potions, which I would hope is self-explanatory;" he paused, looking at Harry for confirmation. Once Harry had nodded, he continued; "ancient runes, which utilises magical symbols for long-term effects; arithmancy, the maths behind magic; astronomy; and divination, the use of magic to predict the future."

"Wow!" Harry was amazed at the vast variety of magic Dumbledore had just described, but, for some reason, he already knew to which field his heart belonged. "Can you tell me more about combat magic?" Silently he added, I blame you for this, Venom, I was an innocent young boy before you corrupted me.

BITE me, Venom replied, clearly incredibly proud of his macabre pun, We both know you loved every minute of the fighting, and that had nothing to do with me.

I didn't enjoy you eating that guy's head.

Everyone's a critic. Dumbledore, for his part was studying the young boy very carefully, the interest in combat magic was not too unusual for a young boy, but Harry was not any ordinary boy. For an instant the thought of using legilimency popped into his mind, but he dismissed it out of hand, he would never use such measures without dire necessity. James Potter had always loved a good fight and had spent far more time researching different curses and counter-curses to use against his nemesis, Severus Snape, than he had ever put into his classes. At least before Lily had finally agreed challenged him to "Actually use that swollen head of yours for something, and I might consider you." Dumbledore smiled in spite of himself, the poor boy had been quite stunned at the revelation that something other than pranks and quidditch prowess could somehow win the fair lady's heart.

"There is a great variety of combat magic, ranging from jinxes, to hexes, to curses, to illusory magic, although that is exceedingly rare these days."

"Why is illusory magic so rare? And what is it?" Harry interrupted, unable to stop himself. "Professor." He added quickly.

"The reason is very similar to that for the scarcity of wandless magic, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "It is exceedingly difficult. Illusory magic is the art of using magic to influence the minds of friend and foe alike, to create phantasms and sensations that exist only within the confines of their own minds, or that imprint themselves on any who look at them, it is said that an exceedingly powerful illusion could even physically affect a living being through the brain's powers of self-deception. It requires a great deal of power and mental discipline, and an innate aptitude which most witches and wizards lack."

"Are witches and wizards today less powerful?" Harry was confused.

"Of course not, but the average witch or wizard today does not have to worry about a dark witch or wizard trying to kill them, martial prowess is no longer as useful, so it is less common. Doubtless if the greatest duellist of today fought the greatest duellist of one-hundred years ago, the modern duellist would likely prevail due to the advances which have been made in magic and tactics. Most people today, however, do not have to learn how to fight to defend their lives, so they are not as proficient as those who did have to. Illusory magic is not as useful as being highly proficient in household charms these days, so it has fallen out of favour."

"Can you do it, Professor?"

"I dabble, young Mr. Potter, I dabble." Dumbledore gestured to himself in a self-deprecating manner as he spoke. "Now I'm afraid I must insist on our returning to your Aunt and Uncle, it is getting very late." Looking around, Harry realised that it must indeed be late, the sky was a glittering tapestry of stars and the moon was glowing brightly. Nodding, Harry stood and took the headmaster's proffered hand as the other vanished the armchairs, and a moment later the clearing was empty.

And that ends Chapter 1! I've been working on this on and off for a few weeks now. I hope it's well received. If you liked it, write in and tell me. If you didn't and you have something constructive to say, write in and tell me. If you didn't like it and you're just going to bitch, what the hell, write in and tell me, it'll probably be worth a good laugh. Basically, just write in and tell me what you think. Pretty please? It'll make me write faster. Or slower. Depending on whether you want me to continue writing or not. PSA: Even if you like this story, read my older stories at your own risk, they are of far less quality because I wrote them many years ago and have improved greatly as a writer in the time since.

I've also decided to begin making a fanfic recommendation at the end of each chapter, I think it's a good way to help the really good fanfics get more reads. This chapter's recommendation is:

The Denarian Renegade, by Shezza.

It's an excellent story, with a believable powerful Harry, and some of the best characterisations of both Dumbledore and Voldemort I have ever had the pleasure to read, apart from JK's of course. The story is a crossover with the Dresden Files, but if you haven't read the series it's no obstacle, as the crossover elements are well explained in an organic manner. The story is the first in a trilogy so there's plenty to enjoy. Even if you hated my story you are honestly doing yourself a disservice if you don't check out The Denarian Renegade.

Omake: How Riot Really Escaped (These probably won't be a regular thing, I just really wanted to write this but didn't think it would really fit in with the story proper)

"What do you think it feels like?"

John Jameson turned to look incredulously at his fellow astronaut, "What?"

"The alien, what do you think it feels like to touch it? Do you think it's like… slimy? Or?" As he spoke, the other man indicated the roiling substance within the closest containment tank. Almost as if it could hear him, the creature inside pressed itself up against the glass of the container.

"How the fuck should I know, man?" For a moment the two stared at each other.

"Do it."

"Do what?"

"Touch it."

"WHAT? NO! Are you fucking crazy!? I'm not touching that shit!" John was stunned his friend could even consider something so stupid.

"I dare you."

"Dude, no, I'm not fucking touching it."

"Why not? Are you chicken?"

"No, we just have no idea what these things are! They could excrete skin melting acid for all we know!"

"That would've damaged the spacesuits when we captured them, John, I think you're just scared."

"I'm not-"

"Bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk." John's friend clucked, waving his arms in a pantomime of wings. "I didn't know you had chickens in space, but we've got a big one here ladies and gentlemen!"

"Would you cut it out!? I'm not chicken! I'm just not fucking dumb like you are."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, man." The two stared at each other for another long moment, then John's eyes flicked back to the alien in the containment tank.

"Just for a second, ok?"

"Yes! This is going to be awesome! Can you imagine how many chicks we'll be able to pick up with this story?"

"What?" John was completely lost.

"Come on! I'm sure we can come up with an amazing pick-up line on 'I've touched an alien' especially if it feels wet!"

"You are fucking disgusting, dude." John shook his head, but he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips.

"You won't be complaining when we're drowning in poon-tang, buddy." His friend assured him, clapping John on the back.

"Ok, let's just do this." John reached toward the containment tank's latch, only to have his friend grab his arm, stopping him.

"You have to take your glove off first, man, otherwise it doesn't count." John rolled his eyes but complied. He reached out again toward the containment latch, pausing only when his fingers were wrapped around the manual release for the top of the tank.

"You're sure about this?" He asked his friend, one last chance to go back.

"Of course!" The other astronaut waved off his friend's concerns airily, "What's the worst thing that could happen?" Shrugging, John opened the container and plunged his hand into the roiling silver substance.

"Oh wow! It actually feels really nic-"

(See the beginning of this chapter for what happens next)