Disclaimer: Sadly, I own naught of Harry Potter...if I did, then do you really think I'd be writing a fan fiction? All Harry Potter characters belong to the one and only JK Rowling (lucky her!!) So you can't sue me!!! HA!

This is a Dark!Evil!Harry fic, and is quite angsty!! Yay dark!evil!harry!!!

Iviana: Yay! I'm so happy! This is my first fan fic! jumps up and down

Miku: rolls eyes oh. my. gosh. could you ever sit still?????

Iviana: laughs hahahahahahahaha!!! oooooh, Miku....you're so funny! anyway, my readers, Miku is my, erm, friend that helps me write this story...ignore her if she seems, depressed!!

Miku: death glares who you callin depressed, Miss I'm-So-Hyper-All-the-Bloody-Time?

Iviana: looks uncomfortable errr...maybe we should get on with the story, Miku-poo?

Miku: screeches DON'T CALL ME THAT!!!

Iviana: oblivious to the daggers that are being glared at her and the murderous look on Miku's face Well, on with the story! waves

Warning: will contain bad language. also will contain some references to child-abuse. Also, there's a 98% chance that this will be slash. Yes...SLASH!!!!! As in M/M romance!! SLASH SLASH SLASH!!! Ya don't like stuff like that, then guess what...Don't READ!! Ok?? I don't want ANY complaints from homophobic people, cause I'm warning you now – there will most likely be SLASH in this fic!!!

Chapter One

In Number 4, Privet Drive, in a small, dimly-lit bedroom, sat a teenage boy. This boy had unruly raven colored hair, piercing jade-green eyes, and golden skin. However, the perfectness of the skin was tainted. Bruises marked this boy's face, arms, and legs. Big, black and blue bruises, along with small, green and yellow ones.

This boy's name is Harry James Potter.

Harry Potter was unlike normal teenage boys. He was a wizard. And quite a powerful one at that, though he did not understand exactly how powerful he was- no one did.

Harry sat unmoving on his bed, staring into space. Many thoughts flooded his head- he was wondering why he had lost contact with his two best friends, he wondered why Albus Dumbledore still had not allowed him to leave the Dursleys, he wondered even what Voldemort was up to. But one thought haunted his mind, day after day, hour after hour, night after night. His godfather's death.

It had been two months since that dreadful night at the Ministry of Magic. And yet, Harry still refused to admit Sirius was dead. How could he be?! All that happened was that he, Sirius Black, fell through a veil. A veil! A stupid, bloody veil.

Tears burned Harry's eyes as he bit them back. He wouldn't cry. He'd cried far too often this summer. He subconsciously rubbed his bruises on his face. Harry had cried at least once a night, since Vernon Dursley, his uncle, beat him daily, ever since Harry had let slip that his godfather had died. That had been a month and a half ago. A very lonely month and a half ago, for he had received no letters from his friends, Lupin, or even that fool Dumbledore.

Harry's eyes burned once again with tears, but this time they were tears of anger. Dumbledore. Oh, how Harry was so angry with him; angry with him for leaving him here at the Dursleys. Angry with him for not teaching him Occlumency. Angry with him for using him as another pawn for the Light side. Angry with him for letting Sirius die.

Dumbledore will pay, Harry thought bitterly, he will pay for everything he's put me through. If only the wizarding world could see Golden Boy now, all bruised up! Harry let out a bitter laugh. Dumbledork won't be the only one to pay – the Ministry will feel my wrath as well.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, Harry didn't notice at first the footsteps of his drunk and angry uncle at first. Only when his bedroom door burst open, did Harry retreat from his mind.

"Boy," Uncle Vernon snarled, "It's time to suffer, you ungrateful bitch." Vernon Dursley's eyes flashed with many emotions – drunkenness, hatred, fury, etc. He started toward the frozen-by-shock Harry.

Harry forgot Dumbledore, the Ministry, Sirius, and everything for the moment. Fear crossed his mind rapidly. Vernon's beatings were always bad, but when he was drunk on top of it, they were unbearable. And it looked like his uncle was terribly drunk.

"No, please no," Harry pleaded quietly, closing his eyes as Vernon drew nearer.

This seemed to egg Dursley on. His lips curled up into a small smile, and he struck his nephew across the face, drawing blood. "Like, that, boy?" he taunted.

Harry fell to the floor with a loud thud, tasting blood. He tried to get back up, only to be struck down again. Crunch. Harry was sure his ribs were broken. After a few more strikes, Harry felt 16 years of hatred and fury take over him. Shaking, he stood up and faced his uncle.

Vernon grinned maniacly as his nephew stood up to face him. However, as soon as his eyes saw Harry's face, his grin faded. Harry's usual green eyes were replaced by the blackest of all blacks. Instead of black pupils, however, his turned red.

Before Vernon could back away, or even think, a strong invisible force lifted him off the ground, squeezing his neck. Dursley saw amusement flicker in his nephew's dark eyes.

"What's wrong, uncle?" Harry sneered. Vernon felt his breath being squeezed out of his lungs. He tried to say something, but he couldn't even choke out the words. Before he new it, though, he was thrown against the wall.

Gasping for breath, Vernon stood up, rubbing his neck. "W-what are y-you t-trying to d-do, f-f-freak?" he gasped out. Harry's amused face suddenly turned dark.

"I am not a freak, you pitiful muggle. For 16 years I've taken to your abuse. Well guess what, dear uncle," Harry smirked, "I'm sick of it. CRUCIO!" he screamed. Vernon fell writhing to the floor, screaming in pain. Harry laughed with bitterness, watching the man who had tortured him throughout his whole life be tortured. He finally lifted the curse.

"Tonight's your lucky night, uncle. I'm leaving. That's right. I. Am. Leaving. But guess what? You won't live to see tomorrow, my dear, dear uncle." And with those words, Harry yelled 'Avada Kedavra.' The last thing his uncle saw was a blinding flash of green light.

Satisfied at the frozen look of horror showing on his uncle's face, Harry gathered up all of his belongings into his trunk with a wave of his hand. He then stalked downstairs only to run right into, literally, his aunt and cousin.

Knowing the Ministry would be here soon, Harry wasted no time. He whispered two 'Avada Kedavra's and left the house with his trunk. Green eyes returning and flashing with satisfaction, Harry turned around, and glancing back at Number 4 Privet Drive, he smirked. "Filthy muggles." He whispered before setting off into the night.

[a/n: I was gonna leave it there, but I figured it would be too short, so I may as well continue a bit more...]

Déjà vu, Harry thought. Once again, Harry was standing on a street curb. Once again, he was listening to Stan welcome him aboard the Knight Bus. Alas, once again, Harry was on the run from the Ministry.

"An' wos yer name?" Stan asked the raven-haired man. Harry looked up and glared. I guess my bruises make me a little unrecognizable, he thought, furiously. But just in case, Harry made sure his hair covered his forehead, not taking chances.

"Seph Monoka," he answered shortly. Stan beamed at him, welcoming him aboard.

"An' where woul' d'you be headin' ter, Mista Monoka?" Stan asked 'Seph'.

'Seph' looked up and thought for a moment before he answered. "The Leaky-" 'Seph' trailed off. Suddenly, he had an idea. No doubt the Ministry will be waiting for me in Diagon Alley, let alone the Leaky Cauldron, he realized. Fixing his stare upon Stan again, 'Seph' asked, "On second thought, do you happen to know of any, erm, inns in Knockturn Alley?" He asked this cautiously, not sure of how the conductor would react, due to Knockturn Alley's bad reputation.

If Stan had any bad thoughts about Knockturn Alley, he sure hid them well, since he said in an almost bored tone, "Aye, ther always is ther Ebon Mishap...nice place, not ter popular. In fact, it be owns'd by-"

'Seph' cut Stan off. "Thanks. I'll go to the Ebon Mishap, please," he smirked. Stan nodded and the bus driver, Ern, started the familiar 'speed-of-light' journey. Harry took the few minutes of the ride to contemplate what had happened in the last hour. I killed the Dursleys, he thought, smirking slightly, Well, that's what happens to people who get in my way, he added. And now, I am on the run, again, from the Ministry. Not that they would probably think that I was the one that committed murder, Harry thought, amused, Oh no...Precious Golden-Boy would never use an Unforgivable, would he? He let out a small chuckle.

"-Mista Monoka! We'er 'ere!" Stan informed 'Seph', jerking him out of his thoughts. Harry narrowed his eyes.

Harry hurriedly got off the Knight Bus and looked around. He was in the familiar drabby-looking Knockturn Alley, standing in front of an inn, with a sign that held the faded words: 'Ebon Mishap.' Glancing around before making his way to the inn, he noticed the entrance to Diagon Alley was not far off. Good, he thought. He was also pleased to note that there were many Dark Arts shops around.

Giving the alleyway one last look, he entered the door to the Ebon Mishap.

Waking up the next morning, Harry took a few minutes to remember the events of the previous night. The owner of the inn had shown Mr. "Monoka" his best room in the whole building. Looking around, Harry sneered. Oh well, he thought, I can survive it for the remaining bit of summer. After getting settled in, he glanced at the Daily Prophet that Josevistra, the innkeeper, had left behind. Seeing the headline and front-page article, Harry picked it up, engrossed:

Missing: The-Boy-Who-Lived!

Last night, Harry James Potter, the-boy-who-lived, has been reported missing. As the lovely Rita Skeeter reports, Ministry officials arrived at Number 4 Privet Drive shortly after the wards surrounding it reported that Unforgivables had been used. The house itself looked in fine condition, however, upon entry, the officials came across the bodies of Mr. Potter's loving and caring family, the Dursleys. Vernon Dursley, Harry Potter's pleasant uncle, had been Crucio'd, while all three had been killed by Avada Kedavra. Upon further search, however, Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding world was nowhere to be found. This is believed to be the work of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We can only hope that poor Potter is safe, and not being held captive by You-Know-Who.

His smirk growing even larger, Harry laughed at the article. I should've known...of course they would blame it on Voldemort! Heading outside, still smirking, Harry put his hood over his head. He didn't want to be even semi-recognized by someone – no doubt he would be shipped back off to Dumbledork and his free reign would be over.

Putting down the paper, Harry went through his trunk to pick out his clothing. Finally, he found a dark forest green top and black pants. I need more new clothing...Dudley's (smirk) old rags are too large, he thought. He then threw his robe over on top of that.

Taking his money pouch (he luckily had a lot left over from last year, so he wouldn't have to withdraw any) he started off towards Kirke's Marverio Book Shoppe. Inside the tiny store, Harry picked out three heavy volumes of books that contained Dark Art spells, charms, hexes, curses, potions, etc. Flipping through them, he decided they were worth it, and went over to pay for them.

The shopkeeper, a middle-aged greasy haired sallow-looking man put on a forced smile when he saw Harry. "Why, greetingssss, young Masssster," he hissed.

Harry stifled back a chuckle. So far, no one noticed who he was, and he found it amusing, and quite relieving. Ignoring the man, Harry paid for the books and left, not noticing that someone was following him. He decided to go to Diagon Alley next, for some new clothes and such.

---------Change of POV----------

A young 16 year old arrived in Knockturn Alley early in the morning. He was a beautiful man, with steely silver eyes, soft blonde hair that fell over his aristocratic face gently, and pale skin. He wore expensive, well-fitted black clothing. His name is Draco Malfoy.

Sneaking into the Alley from Diagon, Draco looked around. Let's see, he thought, Father wants me to pick up his book order from Kirke's Marverio Book Shoppe. Easy enough, he smirked.

He did just that and was about to exit the store when another person came in. Hidden by a bookshelf, Draco watched him. Even though the guy's face was covered by hood from his robe, Draco made out black hair and green eyes. He also noted that the man had many bruises all over his face – a fading black eyes, a swollen lip, and one or two black and blue marks.

There is something familiar about him...I know him from somewhere, Draco thought, still behind a book shelf. He watched as the man paid for three books. When he turned around to walk out the door, Draco let out a small gasp. Under the raven hair, shadowed by the hood, Draco saw a scar.

A lighting bolt scar.

Potter! Draco thought. He had seen the Daily Prophet this morning, as did his father (a/n: for this story, Lucius had gone to a trial shortly after his arrest, and had been let go, ok?).

xxxxxxxxxFlashbackxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Good morning, Father," Draco said when he saw Lucius, sipping wine in the library. Draco always joined Lucius in the library for a short period of time each day, usually morning.

His father looked up, and smiled, something Draco knew only happened when Lucius was in a terribly good mood. "Why, good morning, Dray," Lucius said, still smiling.

Draco had a shocked look on his face. Dray? he thought, Father hasn't called me that since...since... His thoughts were interrupted by Lucius, who had seen the shocked look on his son's face.

"Don't be shocked, son, I may be old, but that doesn't mean that I have to be grumpy all the time," Lucius joked. Draco blinked an eye. Did he just...joke? he pondered.

Shaking his confusion out of his mind, Draco asked, "May I ask what has put you in such a great mood, Father?" Lucius nodded and handed his son the Prophet. Draco read the front page, eyes wide. Ha-Potter's gone? he thought. Then it clicked. Oh, that's why Father is happy...Voldemort has Har-Potter he thought, silently cursing for almost calling him Harry. Draco had always had mixed feelings towards the boy; part of him hated him for turning his friendship down and befriending those pitiful Gryffindork Weasels and Mudblood, while the other part of him, well, liked the boy. Really liked him. (Yes, Draco knew he was gay, he had known for 2 years.)

His father's chuckle drew Draco out of his thoughts. "So, Voldemort has Ha-Potter (Draco mentally slapped himself) now?" he asked. Lucius noted his son's slip. He knew his son was gay. Draco likes Potter, he thought amused, At least he has a fine taste in men, he added, chuckling inside.

"Actually, no, Dray. Voldemort does not have Potter. In fact, Voldemort is as amused and happy by this as I am," Lucius said, still mentally chuckling.

Draco became confused. "So Potter (congratulated himself mentally) escaped Voldemort again...why would Voldemort be amu-"he started, only to be cut off by Lucius.

"Voldemort had nothing to do with the death and torturing of Potter's relatives," he said, "That only leaves one possible candidate." Looking at his son's confused face, Lucius chuckled. He continued to explain, "Since the attack on the Ministry last year, Dumbledore secretly set up many wards so that no wizards besides Potter could enter the house until Dumbledore released the wards, and any magic done would set off an alarm. Potter was the only wizard allowed in Number 4 Privet Drive," Lucius grinned again, "That means Harry was the one who tortured his uncle. Harry (Lucius laughed at his son's face when he said the name again) was the one who killed the muggles." Draco's shocked face grew even bolder, and Lucius continued, "That means Dumbledore's precious Golden Boy has gone dark."

xxxxxEND of flashbackxxxxxxxxx

Draco remembered his Father's words from before. Harry really has gone dark, he thought amused, then mentally kicked himself. POTTER!! Not Harry, Potter!

After Draco's conversation with Lucius, he understood why a dark Harry would please Voldemort. Harry using Unforgivables willingly meant that he must have some bad thoughts about Dumbledore. About time, he thought. Running from the Ministry must mean that Potter was against the Ministry too. And now, Draco added, he's staying in Knockturn Alley. But something was bugging Draco – just where did Ha-Potter get those bruises? Shrugging, Draco silently followed Potter.

Iviana: I know that was kinda weird, but, I hoped you all liked it! smiles

Miku: rolls eyes I still think you made Harry go all evil too quickly.

Iviana: hugs Miku Awwwww...of course we didn't!!!

Miku: growls Get. Off. Of. Me. NOW!!!!!!

A/N: Please review! I want to know if this story is worth continuing or not...