1 From Method to Madness

Summary: Harry is an evil baby genius who plans to rule the world and wishes nothing but death to his mother (Inspired by Stewie Griffin from Family Guy). Will Harry get over his failure to murder his parents before Voldemort got to them? Will he abandon his plans for world domination?

Also check out my companion fic "Road to Nowhere." You'll laugh, you'll cry, it'll become a part of you!

Chapter One: Matricidal Tendencies

"Look, sweetie, it's Halloween!" Lily Potter cried enthusiastically, pointing towards the trick-or-treaters visiting neighboring houses. "See all the different costumes!"

"Amazing," The one year-old commented dryly, not glancing up from his book on the evolution of Inferi.

"Hey, sport," Harry's demented father, James Potter, called as he climbed down the stairs dressed as a clown, "You don't want to turn in to a nerd, do you? Why don't you put that book away and boogie down like your father?"

"I would think the answer to that would be obvious," Harry responded icily, looking pointedly at his dad, who was wearing a hideous, too-big orange and green clown costume. James, who was rather skinny, had made use of the extra fabric at the stomach by stuffing several pillows into the gap. The make-up and wig were the worse, however. The rainbow afro was lopsided and the makeup was severely smudged.

"James!" Lily said, shocked. "What happened to your Varsity Quidditch outfit? You've dressed as a Quidditch player for Halloween for as long as I can remember."

"The last place I remember leaving it was with Harry to play with. I know he's a little young to understand the importance of that uniform, but he looked so gloomy staring darkly into the fireplace. Almost as if he were plotting some sort of evil scheme to murder us all! So, I thought, what the heck, do something fatherly."

"That bloody costume finally met its match," the infant muttered evilly, only to be completely ignored by parents.

Lily and James were involved in their own conversation. "James," said Lily patiently, "when a baby looks like that, you check his diaper..."

"Listen, porcupine-head," Harry screamed at his father at the same time, "I may not be able to do anything to stop you from embarrassing me- short of killing you, that is, and even then, you'd probably come back from the dead to humiliate me at your own funeral- but I will put my foot down when it comes to reliving your glory days like some over-the-hill cross-dresser trying to squeeze into a black mini-dress he wore when he was sixteen, the night he got his first kiss from a college kid with enough pimples to play connect-the-dots! Do you hear me, James? Are these run-on sentences getting through to you?!"

"Uh-oh, somebody's crabby. What's the matter, sweetie? Is daddy's clown costume scaring you?" Lily Potter asked her son, not understanding, as per usual, what he was actually saying. Even though Harry James Potter had the vocabulary and speaking ability of an adult, most things the one year-old said went straight over the heads of the people around him. But one day, that would change, he promised himself. One day, he would have respect.

"Why the deuce would that ridiculous thing scare... Oh, I mean... WAAAAAHHHH! Mommy, a scary clown ate Daddy. I want daddy back! Go away, scary clown! WAAAAAAHHHHH!"

"It's OK, sport, it's only daddy under here," Said James, his stupid clown costume, wig, and makeup vanishing with a wave of his wand.

Harry sighed in relief. "Thank Heavens," He declared. "I know this Fidelius Charm is supposed to keep our house hidden from everyone except us and that white-bearded old fool who wants me to call him 'Santa'- I got news, people: Santa is fat! This guy's Death with a broken nose! Honestly how gullible do you think I am??" Harry took a deep breath and managed to calm down. "But I feel much better knowing that you now look human, at least at first glance."

"See, daddy's back," Said James, referring to himself in third person. Seriously, what is up with that? Doesn't he realize that that's a sign of insanity? "You feel better now, don't you?"

"I believe I just said that," Replied the infant, retrieving a piece of parchment and a quill to plan out his attack on the entire world. Let's see, a few more land mines in France, Oooh, gotta direct more fighter jets to China just in case... safety in numbers and all that... and America, America- Oh yes, he had something particularly gruesome planned for America. (A/N: I'm from the U.S., so that's my own country I'm making fun of.)

The baby lay on his back contentedly, contemplating his inevitable victory. For this was the sweetest moment: after the relief of action had quenched the thirst of oppression, yet before the hurly-burly of war and the stress of change exhausted him. A peaceful moment between two lives... Well, time to get down to business. First thing's first: kill that red-headed slattern who had the nerve to call herself his mother.

Now was his chance; now was the moment when the lima beans of injustice were burned to a crisp by the flame of the proverbial man-eating dragon...No, this moment was too deep to be explained away by that ancient proverb of Grindelwald's legendary armies.

Lily Potter had her back to him as she smooched her idiotic husband. Her wand was on the table next to them. Harry stood on tiptoe and made a grab for it. They didn't notice a thing.The severely misunderstood baby genius thought he heard the phrase "Snoogy-woogy bear." Gross.

Harry carefully aimed the wand at Lily's back. Considering his height deficiency, the wand was level with her rear end. Yes, Harry thought evilly, I'll murder the bloody-haired one while porcupine head watches. He waved the wand. There came a flash of green light and...

Lily Potter hung upside down in the air, her legs flailing as if she was trying to walk on the ceiling.Unfortunately, she had chosen to wear a skirt that day, so the fabric was bunched up around her waist, giving her husband and son an unrivaled view of her underwear.

"Ooh la la," Purred James.

"Kill me please," Harry shuddered.

James, after being screamed at for a good fifteen minutes by his wife, pulled out his own wand and let Lily down. The enraged woman took advantage of this by slapping James across his face. "Ow! Stop! I swear, I didn't do that! My hands were on you the whole time! How could I have pulled out my wand? I was kissing you! Ouch, stop that! My tongue was in your mouth and you know I'm hopeless at nonverbal spells! You got the wrong guy!"

Lily suddenly caught sight of her sonstanding behind her, raising the wand for a second time. Her eyes widened and a huge, dimpled smile appeared on her pretty face. "Did you do that, my Harrykins? Did you do magic all by yourself?"

"Sure, it's cute when he does it," James mumbled.

"James, get the camera," Lily screamed, enraptured. "It's Harry's first spell! What a big boy!" James ran from the room and returned with the camera.

"Can you say 'Daddy?'" James cooed. Harry frowned thoughtfully.

"Say 'Mommy!'" Lily said perkily. Harry took a deep breath and leaned closer to the camera.

"One day," The infant said in a voice barely above a whisper that was neverthelessheard throughout the room, "I will KILL YOU ALL!" He screamed the last part as the camera snapped a picture. Harry ran upstairs to his nursery to plot a second attack. At that moment, the door banged open...

...And the rest is history. (A/N: Come on, you know what happened. You don't need me to type it out.)

Hours later, Harry lay curled up in a bassinet on his aunt and uncle's front porch. He heard a distant clap of thunder and saw rain begin to fall. He stirred tiredly and sighed. It sucked being little. Harry had only vague memories of the last few hours. A strange man, or man-shaped being- evil, powerful, intriguing, repulsive- had... had killed his mother and father. Of course, he himself had wanted to kill his parents- especially that awful Lily woman. He was in his crib, his dead parents lying on the floor of the nursery (A/N: Yes, I changed some details) wondering if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Was this an ally or someone trying to usurp his position of

Supreme Ruler of the Universe before he actually attained it? Suddenly, he was angry. After over a year of hatching evil plans to kill his vile mother, this stranger had killed his dreams in one casual sweep of his wand.

"A dream deferred," the infant had mused, naming the title of a Muggle poem he had heard somewhere. Harry shook his head sadly. "After all those plots, all those attempts, my mother lies dead. But for me, there is no triumph of the kill. For me, there is only a mystery to solve, a moral journey to embark upon. The death of those two bumbling idiots did not bring me the triumph I had hoped for, only a new beginning. I must begin anew my plans to dominate the world."

And the snakelike stranger had said sardonically, "How cute, a talking baby," and raised his wand. There was a flash of green light...

...And the Snake-Man was gone. A horrible pain ripped through Harry's head, momentarily driving away his evil plans, his nefarious schemes, and megalomaniacal desires, leaving only pure instinct. He sobbed into the night as his house burned around him.

Back in the present, Harry shook his head disgustedly over his infantile behavior, despite the fact that he was an infant. There was just no excuse.

Now he was here, in front of his aunt and uncle's house. If this Aunt Petunia was anything like her sister, he would probably be woken in a few hours with a shrill scream if he did manage to go back to sleep. He was also fairly certain that he had a cousin about his age and around half his IQ (if that). He had a funny name... What was it again? Dumdum or Douchebag or something similar. Well, if Cousin Douchebag took it into his thick head to prod and pinch him, Harry would ensure that DumDum was in severe pain for the next few weeks.

He sighed as he watched the rain come down harder. His tyrannical need for glorification seemed to be returning, at any rate. He found himself secretly hoping that somewhere unseen- hidden, far-off, and secret, yes that added to the drama- strange people would be raising glasses and giving praise to Harry James Potter, The Boy Who... well, something memorable.

Harry rolled over and went back to sleep. Yes, it was difficult being this young. But perhaps the worst part about it is the fact that, within a week, he will have forgotten all of this. Or maybe that was a good thing. No odd memories to distract him from wreaking havoc in the perfectly normal town of Little Whinging, on the perfectly normal street of Privet Drive, from the perfectly normal house of Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley.

To be continued.

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