A/N: This story came about after I spent quite a bit of time looking for a good evil Harry fic, as there seems to be a distinct lack of them. Sure, there are the "Dark but not Evil" fics out there, but I find that there is a real lack of true "Dark Lord Harry" fics, at least to my understanding. As such, I have decided to write one. Now, on to the story!

Chapter 1

A five year old Harry Potter sat in his school, silently wishing for someone, anyone, to notice his plight. The Dursleys had beat him again the day before, what for, he couldn't comprehend, and he was not looking forward to returning home again, to be locked away and forced into doing the chores around the house or else risk another beating.

'Someone, Anyone, please notice me. Save me!" Harry wished with all his might, but, as always, nobody noticed. Nobody cared if Harry came to school with bruises covering his back. Nobody cared that he was tiny and weak, with ribs clearly visible, save for the fact that it made him an easier target.

The teacher noticed, but didn't truly care for him. Harry saw her looking at him with pity in her eyes every once in a while, but she did nothing. Nobody cared about young Harry Potter, the Freak of Privet Drive, except for the snake that occasionally came by to talk to him in the school yard.

Sela was a nice snake. She cared, but she couldn't do anything for Harry. Despite her assurances that she would bite the Dursleys, Harry knew that it wouldn't end his torment, and would only put his only friend's life at risk.

Thus, Harry's life went on, with no hope of rescue and no chance of respite from the hell he was subjected to at the Dursleys'

A six year old Harry projected a stoic face as his teacher berated him for his shabby appearance. He no longer cared what the man thought of him. After all, the man couldn't do anything to him in school aside from yelling. He simply sat there, knowing that, for all his bluster, the man couldn't control his life. No, the only ones who could do that were the Dursleys.

The thought of those people caused a flash of hatred to briefly appear on his face. The teacher noticed this, and grabbed Harry by the collar of his oversized shirt, lifting him out of his seat until he was standing, albeit off balance. Harry's anger intensified, and the lights briefly flickered. How dare this man touch him? Only the Dursleys could control him, and that is because he had no choice but to obey in exchange for the food and shelter they provided him. How dare this man presume he had the right to control that which was not his? As Harry's rage intensified, the man suddenly dropped him, clutching his hand and screaming. Looking at it, Harry saw that the offending hand was red and blistered, as if it had touched a still hot stove. A small smile appeared on his otherwise impassive face at the man's plight. Serves him right.

Seven year old Harry Potter looked down from the top of the school roof, eyes wide in amazement at what he had done. One second he was being chased by his overgrown bully of a cousin and his posse of fellow bullies, and the next thing he knew, he was on the roof! It was like magi- wait, didn't Auntie Petunia ban that word from the house? Harry began to consider that maybe there was more to Petunia's fear of the topic than she let on. M

However, coming down from the roof ultimately took priority, and as Harry did not want to get in trouble, he only saw one option. He had to re-create the magical event. He closed his eyes and focused his mind and willed himself to return to the ground. After several seconds, he opened his eyes, only to see himself still on the roof. He shut his eyes, and tried again.

The sun was starting to set, and Harry had yet to move from his spot on the roof. He was starting to panic, knowing what would happen when he got home. With panic building in his chest, he desperately wished to return to the ground... and suddenly, he was there, standing on soft dirt. Knowing that he didn't have a moment to lose, he started to run home, only to pause. Why walk when he could simply magic himself there?

Closing his eyes, he once again made the silent wish to return home, and just like that, his surroundings changed. He opened his eyes, only for them to widen in horror. He had appeared, not in the garden or his cupboard, but rather in the kitchen, just as the Dursleys were having dinner. He watched Petunia's eyes widen, first in fear, then in fury, while Vernon's flabby face began to turn a bright purple, veins beginning to appear on his face.

"Boy..." Vernon's voice was a deep, angry growl. Then, a plate half full of food flew towards Harry, the improvised projectile being thrown by Aunt Petunia, her features contorted in a visage of pure, undiluted anger. It shattered as it hit its target, sending Harry to the floor. By then, Vernon had pulled a still hot frying pan off the stove, and strode towards his stricken nephew, wielding the improvised weapon with both hands.

Seeing the weapon start its descent towards his head, Harry shut his eyes, praying for unconsciousness, only for a loud BANG! to emanate from just above him, followed by a crashing sound and the clattering of silverware. Opening his eyes, Harry saw Vernon lying on the ground, having smashed through the table. This served only to make Petunia angrier, and she picked up a rolling pin and used Harry's confusion to smack Harry with it, causing his vision to flicker. A second blow, followed by a third, knocked Harry out cold.

He awoke in the familiar darkness of his cupboard, listening to muted voices up above him.

"...death's too good for him! You saw what he did to me! I want to see him suffer!" Vernon shouted.

"Exactly! When you're weeding, you pull the things out by the roots, and Harry is the root of all our problems! I want him gone, now!" Petunia screamed back, causing Harry's mind to fill with fear, and fear was the most powerful emotion when it came to accidental magic. As Harry wished that he could do something to make his angry aunt and uncle to go away, his magic began to search for a solution, and found it in the form of an anomaly residing within a scar on its bearer's forehead. Magic acted as a primary immune system for wizards, keeping their bodies and souls clean of foreign taint, although, just like some diseases could overwhelm the body, so could some forms of taint overwhelm or bypass the magical defenses. Horcruxes were of the latter, as otherwise the one in Harry would have purged him of all magic and destroyed his soul upon implantation, or vice versa. Thus, horcruxes were designed to stealthily bypass their targets' magical resistances, rather than overcome them, as the former path would lead to a smaller chance of the horcrux failing to be created, as the ambient magic present inside most artifacts and creatures would interfere with the soul fragment implantation. Thus, when Harry's magic became aware of the presence of Voldemort's soul fragment, it quickly mobilized to attack and assimilate the tiny fragment of soul. Voldemort's piece of soul barely had a chance to scream before it was absorbed, as the tiny fragment of soul stood no chance against the fear-bolstered might of Harry's whole soul, and was quietly assimilated and destroyed, being dissolved into component materials. All aspects of Voldemort's personality present were deemed useless and disposed of, while the raw energy contained within the soul was absorbed into Harry's, creating a tiny, secondary magical core. Among the absorbed content was a fragment of Voldemort's dark knowledge, which flooded into Harry's brain.

This all happened within a second, and until the knowledge was assimilated, Harry was completely unaware of the housekeeping going on within his body. Then, there came the feeling of a massive weight on his mind suddenly being lifted, and a torrent of fragmented knowledge was dumped into Harry's head. However, rather than take the form of a steady stream of images or sensations, it was as if Harry simply remembered something he had long forgotten, namely bits and pieces of dark curses and memories. However, it was enough. Harry now had a chance at survival.

Now, most people would shudder at the thought of attacking their foster guardians with dark torture curses, but Harry's guardians were plotting his death, and in this sort of situation, parts of the brain shut down, replacing logical thought with simple fight or flight instinct, and Harry subconsciously knew that he couldn't flee when he was already in the closest thing he had to a sanctuary, so his brain chose to fight with the newly acquired knowledge. Shoving aside all emotion excluding the need to eliminate threats to his well being, Harry raised his hand and willed the locked cupboard door to be blasted aside, and, with fragments of a young Tom Riddle's control over his magic coupled with Harry's own control, the door exploded outwards, reduced to little more than splinters and dust. Walking out, Harry homed in on the screams coming from above. Harry sprinted up the stairs to his guardians' room, only to find the door locked. It wouldn't stop him. He blasted the door down, only to see Vernon come charging at him with a knife in his hands, while Petunia held a gun limply in her hands, standing against the wall and overcome by fear. His panic senses shut down, Harry simply willed for one of the spell effects he knew to come into being, and a sickly red light was his magic's reply, the bolt slamming into Vernon's chest. Then, the exsanguinator curse did its bloody work, and all of Vernon's blood, which was until then inside the body, exploded outward, tearing through the body in the process, reducing what was once Vernon Dursley to little more than a pulpy mass spread across the floor. Petunia screamed, closing her eyes as the blood sprayed outward, the gun going off in her hands, the shot going wild. An overpowered severing charm cut through her neck, her head sliding off the body it was once attached to as what was left of Petunia slowly slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind.

With the elimination of the threat, Harry's senses returned to him. His first feelings upon seeing the carnage he had inflicted were, without a doubt, horror and shock. He had, after all, killed the two people that had taken care of him for his entire life! But then, Harry's thoughts strayed back to when Vernon had beat him for the first time.

"Why?" The then four year old Harry had asked.

"Because I'm the one in charge here, and you're nothing but a worthless, little FREAK!" Vernon had replied.

This detour down memory lane had allowed other, darker emotions, perhaps remnants of Voldemort's twisted psyche, to manifest themselves. Harry began to realize that he had, in fact, enjoyed the fact that he didn't fear the Dursleys when he had killed them. He realized that, at that moment, the roles of him and Vernon were reversed. He was the one in control now, and he relished the feeling. It was in that moment that seven year old Harry took the first step on a dark and twisted path.

"M... mum?" Dudley's scared voice shook Harry out of his musings. The first thought in Harry's mind upon hearing his cousin was revenge. He would make the overweight boy suffer! Then, the desire for a bloody, brutal killing faded, being replaced by a memory of the feeling of him being in control. Harry wanted to be in control again, and this time, he wanted the feeling to last. As Dudley peeked into his parents' room, eyes widening in fright as he beheld the headless corpse of his mother and the splatter of blood that had once been his father, Harry released his magic, shaping it with the fragmented knowledge he had of legilimency and the imperius curse. Locking eyes with his cousin, Harry dove into his cousin's fear weakened mind, and then he started to rip and tear Dudley's weak mind apart, hearing his cousin's very soul scream in agony as pieces of it were systematically severed, leaving nothing but an empty shell behind. Seconds later, Harry withdrew from his cousin's mind, his eyes taking in the older boy's form prone on the ground, lying still in what was once agony. Then, Dudley stood, fixing Harry with an emotionless stare.

"How may I serve you?" Dudley asked, his voice devoid of all anger, fear, or happiness. Harry broke into a smile as the feeling of control coursed through him again. His cousin, his bullying, overweight, beloved cousin, was now just a mindless slave to serve his will.

"Turn out the light, then step outside." Harry said, and the thing that was once Dudley complied, the light in the room going out, before the walking corpse that extinguished it stepped outside the room. It was then that Harry's magical exertion caught up to him, and, as the adrenaline rush faded, Harry Potter fell asleep on the blood coated sheets of what was once his aunt and uncle's bed, a smile still on his face.

Harry awoke the next day with the smile still present on his face. He lay still on the blood soaked sheets, content in the fact that, for the first time, he was in control of his life. After an hour of reveling in that simple fact, he called Dudley to him.

"Fetch me breakfast. Bacon and Eggs, you may lick the plate once I'm finished eating." Harry ordered when his servant entered. The last part of the order came from the fact that, while Dudley no longer could truly think or be considered human, he still required some nutrition to sustain his body, but he had plenty stored away already and didn't need further fattening.

Dudley left in order to fulfill the order, and the smell of cooking soon filled the house, as if it were just a normal morning. Soon, breakfast was brought up, and Harry quickly ate, before giving the plate to Dudley to lick clean. His breakfast eaten, Harry began to plan his next course of action. It was Saturday, so he had at least two days before anyone noticed him or his family missing, but after that, Harry couldn't stay in the house any longer. With that in mind, he ordered Dudley to search the house for money or anything else valuable, such as jewelry, while Harry got himself changed. Finally, after nearly an hour of just wandering the house collecting things, Dudley returned to Harry, stating that he had completed his order. Smiling, Harry walked downstairs, put on his cousin's coat and an old pair of Dudley's shoes, ordering Dudley to do the same, only without the coat, and together, boy and brain dead servant left Number 4 Privet Drive for the last time.

However, the escape was not smooth at all. Almost as soon as they had exited the house, the pair ran into Piers Polkiss, who had been invited over by Dudley to go Harry Hunting over the weekend.

"If it isn't the freak himself! What say we play a game, Freak? I bet you already know what it i-" Piers began, but Harry cut him off, a smile forming on his face.

"Servant, KILL HIM!" Harry shouted the last words, pointing at Piers.

"Yes, Master." Dudley replied in monotone, before reaching for Piers' neck.

"Make it painful, though. Make him suffer!" Harry cackled, and Dudley began to lift and shake his former friend, before pile driving him into the ground.

"Dud, man? What are you doing?" Piers cried, right before Dudley began to stomp on him. Loud cracks indicated arms, legs, and ribs breaking, blood slowly beginning to flow.

"Enough. Stand back." Harry said, smile still present on his face. After all, why waste such a beautiful opportunity to experiment with his newfound magic. Closing his eyes, Harry willed every bone in Piers' body to explode. A small snap and a howl of pain showed that Harry had failed, only having broken a single finger bone.

"Pity. Let's try again." Harry said, and pointed his fingers at Piers, forming them into a gun like shape. Again, Harry willed every bone in Piers' body to explode, only this time imagining the scene of the boy's destroyed body as he did so. A gurgling scream indicated partial success. Harry looked down to see that both of the boy's legs reduced to a mess of red mush on the ground, bone splinters embedded in the pulped flesh. Pointing his fingers again, Harry then imagined only Piers' arms exploding, and just like that, only a torso remained intact. Harry sighed.

"Aww, I wanted to play some more." Harry pouted, and pointed his fingers at Piers' head, and the rest of the boys' body exploded, leaving nothing recognizable behind. Harry stepped over the body, and Dudley followed suit. The two of them then left Privet Drive, never to return.

It was hours later that Harry found himself leading his servant through the streets, looking for a place to stay, when he suddenly noticed a certain pub. Visually, it appeared old fashioned and shabby, with the words "The Leaky Cauldron" denoting the name of the place. However, as he looked at it, Harry began to feel a certain excitement in the air. It was barely noticeable, but it clearly came from the pub. Curious, Harry walked up to it, and entered, Dudley following. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. People clad in old fashioned robes and cloaks were sitting around tables, some drinking, some playing various games, and still others were... Harry froze. One of the patrons had, with a wave of his wand, stopped a falling glass, returning it to the table with practiced precision. The barkeep noticed his staring, and looked up.

"Bless my soul... It's Harry Potter!" The mention of his name brought the entirety of the room's attention on him.

"Wha..." Harry never got to finish his sentence before he was mobbed by people looking for his autograph, or to offer him gifts, which he accepted with varying degrees of enjoyment, and, in the case of one particularly ugly woman, a kiss.

"Allright, allright, break it up! Can't you see he's being overwhelmed?" The barkeep shouted, but the crowd did not stop. The man raised his wand, and a loud BANG echoed throughout the room. The crowd dispersed.

"Good. Now that that's taken care of, what can I do for you, Harry? Do you need to go into Diagon, or just here for a drink?" The man smiled at the end, indicating his joke.

"Um... well, why did all that happen? Why do you all know my name?" Harry asked, confused.

"You mean you don't know? You saved us all, Harry! If it weren't for you, we would be still living in fear of You-know-who!" The barkeep said.

"Who? I don't know who." Harry said, confused.

"You know, You-know-who, He-who-must-not-be-named, The Dark Lord V-Vol-Voldemort, Him?" The man asked.

"No..."

"What rock did Dumbledore stick you under?" The man muttered, before continuing, "Whatever. The important thing is, because of you, the Dark Lord is dead, and we're all alive. Now, do you want to get into Diagon Alley, or just stand here and socialize?" The man asked.

"What's Diagon Alley?" Harry asked.

"It's the center of Magical Britain! Anything magical you need, you can get it there. From spellbooks to potion ingredients, you can get it there."

"Really? Where do I get the money for all this?" Harry asked.

"Why, Gringotts, the Wizard bank! I'm sure you were left something, after all, the Potters weren't exactly the poorest family out there, if you know what I mean!"

"How do I get there?" Harry asked.

"Follow me." The barkeep said, entering a back room, which contained a brick wall and nothing else. Pulling out a long, thin wooden stick, the man tapped an arrangement of bricks, and the brick wall slid aside, and Harry caught his first glimpse of Diagon Alley.

"Thank you!" Harry called as he entered the alley, Dudley following behind him, walking towards the building that Harry could see was Gringotts.

Entering the bank, Harry saw it was filled with short, pointy eared creatures wearing old fashioned suits and going about their business. Harry approached one, ordering Dudley to wait by the entrance. The creature turned to him.

"Any business you have, speak to one of the tellers." The goblin said, pointing towards a free window.

"Thanks." Harry said, before running off.

"State your name and business here." The teller said.

"Harry Potter, sir, and I'm here to make a withdrawal." Harry said.

"Really now... I assume you want to be seeing the Potter vault?" Harry nodded in response.

"Very well then. Griphook! Escort Mr. Potter here to his family vault!" Another creature, whom Harry had realized was a goblin from the various conversations going on around him, approached.

"Come with me, Mr. Potter." Griphook ordered boredly, leading Harry towards a cart. The cart sped off, and Harry was soon whooping in joy at the vehicle's speed. Finally, the ride ended as he arrived at the vault, and Harry exited the cart, following Griphook.

"Please place your hand here to verify your identity." Harry complied, and there was a sharp pain as his hand was sliced open. Harry cried out, spinning towards the goblin, eyes narrowing in fury and already prepared to kill.

"Calm yourself, Mr. Potter. The device simply drew your blood to confirm your being the real Harry Potter. Had you been an impostor, your hand would have been stuck there, and you would have been bled dry. Now, I believe you wish to access your vault?" Harry nodded, his eyes still narrowed. In response, the goblin walked up to the door and inserted a golden key into a hidden lock, and the door swung open.

Seeing the mountains of gold inside, Harry regretted not bringing Dudley to help him carry it all. Voicing his concern, the goblin pulled out a small black pouch.

"For ten galleons, you can get one of these pouches. It is linked to your vault, and will allow you to withdraw all the money you need. Simply state the amount, and it will appear in the pouch."

"How much is a galleon?" Harry asked.

"See those gold coins? Those are galleons. The silver ones are Sickles, and the copper ones are Knuts. I won't bore you with the nonsensical exchange rates that these British have invented, as everything is priced in galleons nowadays."

Harry scooped up ten galleons and gave them to the goblin, who in turn handed him the pouch.

"Now, in addition to money, various family heirlooms and deeds are stored in here, although most of the properties owned by the Potter family, including Potter Estate were sold off to help fund the war against Voldemort, and the house owned by the Potters upon their death was purchased by the ministry for the construction of the Potter War Memorial, with the funds being used to pay for your scholarship to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Should you choose to attend, you will not need to pay a single knut for tuition." Griphook explained.

"Is there any property that the Potter family does own?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I believe they own a fairly large house in the residential area of Diagon, where they lived after selling their old estate but before going into hiding. I believe a portkey keyed to its location is located in here." Griphook replied.

"Thank you, Griphook. Do you mind waiting while I look around?" Harry asked. Griphook nodded as a reply, and Harry entered the vault. Looking around, he first saw the mountains of gold, proof of his newly acquired wealth. As he proceeded deeper into the vault, he began to see less money and more heirlooms. Ranging from jewel studded ornamental swords, which Harry looked at once before trying and failing to swing one, and then moved on. There were some examples of jewelry, but Harry ignored them, looking for something else instead. He found it in the form of a set of boxes, which were yet to be unpacked. Opening one, Harry found it to be full of various books, likely taken from the manor when it was sold. Harry pulled out one, looking at the title. 'One Hundred and One Magical Pranks to Entertain Your Friends and Torment Your Enemies' was promptly set aside as Harry continued to search for real spellbooks. The ones he deemed worthwhile were set aside, along with a small book on wizarding culture and customs, as well as a few journals by past Potters. Finally, after nearly thirty minutes of searching, Harry gave up, deciding to take the books he already found with him to his new home, deciding to return later for the rest. On his way out of the vault, he found the promised deed to the property in Diagon, as well as a ring that was supposedly a "Portkey" to said property. Apparently, all he had to do was put on the ring and say "Marauders' Pad" and he would be teleported there. Very useful indeed.

Exiting his vault, he got back onto the cart and headed out of the bank, intending to pick up Dudley and go shopping.

As he left the bank, Dudley in tow, he ran into a blond boy about his age, who was running ahead of a pair of similarly haired parents, both of whom had an air about them that simply screamed "I'm better than you."

"Watch where you're going, filthy mudblood!" The blond shouted as he picked himself up off the ground. "I ought to teach you a lesson about respecting your bet-" That was about as far as the boy got in his rant before Harry ordered Dudley to grab the boy by the throat.

"What was that you were saying?" Harry asked, as Dudley held the squirming boy up by his throat. Harry noticed the blond's parents, if that was what they really were, standing back and watching the spectacle, amusement on the face of the male, uncertainty in the face of the female.

"Put me down you filthy mudblood!" The boy screamed. Dudley was about to do so when Harry countermanded the order.

"You are to obey me and only me, servant. Knock him unconscious, now is not the time." Harry ordered, and Dudley complied, slamming the boy down into the ground, causing the blonde's eyes to roll back in his head.

"Come, servant. Pick up the books, then follow me." Harry ordered, and Dudley obeyed, picking up the books scattered across the ground before following in Harry's footsteps, his master unconcerned with the boy's mother trying to revive her son, or the boy's father aiming a calculating stare at Harry's back. Once he was out of the bank, Harry grabbed Dudley's hand and activated the portkey, disappearing and reappearing in his new home.

"Set the books down on the shelves, then come with me. Quickly now!" Harry ordered, standing impatiently by the entrance as Dudley scrambled to obey. Soon, the books were put away for later use, and Harry set out again into Diagon Alley, this time with gold to spend.

His first stop was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where he spent nearly an hour getting himself fitted. By the time he left, the sun was already starting to set, but Harry paid it no mind, nor did he care for the fact that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He was simply too focused on getting to know as much as possible about his power, and that was worth more to him than any food could have been. He left the shop with one pair of robes on him, as well as three more in a bag held by Dudley.

His next stop was Flourish and Blott's Booksellers, and he quickly purchased a good handful of what looked like school textbooks, such as the full set of 'The Standard Book of Spells', volumes I-VII, 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi, and The Potioneer's Encyclopedia, to name a few. The subjects he sampled ranged from charms to arithmancy and runes, but try as he might, Harry couldn't find anything on the type of magic he used on the Dursleys, as the book of supposed "Defensive Curses" he found contained nothing more severe than a particularly painful stunner. With that in mind, he went to the shopkeeper.

"Yes? How can I help you?" The man asked, looking down at Harry.

"Well, I was wondering, where are the books on curses?" Harry asked.

"And why would a young boy such as yourself want to research such a dark topic?" The shopkeeper asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Harry knew that his true reason, that he wanted to become more powerful, wouldn't sit with the man, so he decided to concoct up a story.

"You see, I'm an orphan, my parents were killed by Vol-Voldemort a-and I just wanted t-to know how to p-protect myself sh-should I be attacked again." Harry had to concentrate on his magic to force some crocodile tears into his eyes, and the sobs that started to shake his body as he explained were actually attempts at holding in laughter at the man's flinch at Voldemort's name.

"I see. Well, we don't sell that kind of spellbook here, for obvious reasons. You might find something of that sort down in Knockturn, but that's not a safe place to be, even for a full grown wizard, never mind a young boy such as yourself! There's hags, werewolves, and even dark wizards living in there! I even heard a vampire coven has set up shop somewhere in that place, so you'd best steer clear if you know what's good for you!" The man's warning set the gears in Harry's mind turning. If it was forbidden, it was sure to be powerful, so Knockturn was his next destination.

"Allright then, can I at least buy these books then?" Harry asked, and soon, he was out of the store, handing a featherlight charmed and expanded bag of books to Dudley for safekeeping as Harry went in the direction of Knockturn. By the time Harry arrived there, the sun had almost completely set, the sky being a deep red-orange in color. It was then, with the setting sun casting deep shadows and most of the alley's inhabitants already gone did Harry make his way into Knockturn alley. Unlike the open architecture of Diagon alley, the buildings in Knockturn seemed to press in on you, blotting out the setting sun and bathing the alley in darkness.

A loud cackle caused Harry to spin around and come face to face with a Hag, the creature being covered in warts and grinning, displaying sharp fangs. Her claws reached towards Harry's arm, when suddenly, there was a flash of sickly red light as the Exsanguinator curse, the same one that had ended Vernon Dursley, slammed into her, having flown from Harry's finger. The resulting explosion of blood covered half of Harry's face and clothing with the sticky, warm red liquid.

Threat dealt with, Harry continued down the alley unmolested until he found a place that looked promising. As he entered "Leather Bound: Finest Books in Knockturn Alley", he heard a noise like the pattering of feet close behind him. Spinning around, Harry fired another exsanguinator, only for the curse to fly through empty air. There was no-one there. On alert, Harry entered the bookstore, a bell ringing to signal his arrival. Ordering Dudley to wait inside by the entrance, Harry began to browse the selection. Immediately, he realized that there was much more advanced and powerful magic on selection here. One title in particular intrigued him, or rather, it was the book itself that stood out. Among the leather bound, written on parchment books that were commonplace in the store, this particular volume, as well as several others nearby, were bound using more modern means, and were written on regular paper. Pulling out the tome, Harry read the title. 'Encyclopedia Arcanum: Arithmancy Edition'. Looking at the next, he saw it was for Runes, and the one after that was for charms and transfiguration. There were sixteen volumes in total, covering Runes, Arithmancy, Charms/Transfiguration, Battle Magic, Wands and Wandlore, Potions, Alchemy, Rituals, Magical Fauna and Flora, Wards and Enchanting, Blood Magic, Soul Magic, Mental Magic, Sapient Nonhumans, Magical Theory, and Exotic Magics, as well as a smaller, seventeenth volume that acted as an index and an introduction to the series, although it seemed to be made up of a patchwork of paper and parchment, the parchment being an addendum written by a whole different man. Quickly reading it through, Harry found that it was written by a group of independent magical researchers who intended to write a next generation set of school textbooks using their findings on the nature of magic, something that had not been researched in depth. Unfortunately, it seemed that, due to their status as muggleborns, the books were deemed to be made entirely of fantasies and wild conjectures by the purebloods in charge of the magical scientific community, and nearly eighty years of research was simply discounted as if it were simply made up. Following this, four of the five committed suicide, while the fifth wrote an addition to the introductory volume stating how their life's work was destroyed by bigotry, before using the blood of his fellow researchers and his own sacrifice to perform a ritual to ensure the preservation of the Encyclopedia Arcanum. Harry concluded that he had gone insane. A tapping sound alerted Harry to another presence in the room, causing him to look up from his reading.

"So, what is a young boy like you doing in the middle of Knockturn Alley looking at books of all things, and covered in blood no less?" The man, an old, wizened wizard clad in faded grey robes asked.

"I was curious is all." Harry said.

"I see. So, what book has caught your interest here, young man?" The man asked, seemingly unfazed by the blood all over Harry's face. In response, Harry showed him.

"Oh, that. I remember. Encyclopedia Arcanum, such a shame that one. Eighty years of work, wasted just like that. Shame, but it can't be helped. Old muggleborns like me, well, we aren't exactly considered first class citizens here in Britain, or anywhere in Europe really." The man sighed.

"Then why stay?" Harry asked.

"Where do I go? This is all I own, and almost all of Europe is still stuck in the old, blood purist ways."

"What about other places, like China, or America?" Harry asked.

"Heh, China. China's even more purist than England, and that's saying something. The muggle side of things may be all progressive with their socialist regime, but the magical side of things is still stuck in the old ways, with blood being everything there. If you aren't part of an old, established family, no school will take you. The best you can hope for is to get married to someone who is a member of one of those families. Hell, they still bind feet in magical China! America though, that's another story. Most modern magical country in the world, and there's no real statute of secrecy there either, but most people don't realize that. You see, European wizards are a bit behind the times, and many wizards still believe that the American wizards are either slaveholders or back country bumpkins, and the excuse they call history class in school doesn't help either. So, by the time people realize this, it's too late to change our lifestyles and move to the states and away from all this purity crap. It's the same with China and Japan too. The Chinese magicals consider Magical Japan to be all backwards, not realizing that after the second world war, Magical Japan became much more like Magical America. Anyway, I've rambled on enough about magical countries, now, I assume you want those books?" The man asked.

"Yes. It's very interesting. Do you know if the things in here are true?" Harry asked, gesturing towards the books.

"I've read a bit, and from what I can tell, that's the real deal. Light," the man intoned, and a ball of light appeared at the end of his finger. "That was the lumos charm, the normal incantation would be lumos, but I've managed to get it both wandlessly and in a different language, though I still can't do it silently. Tell you what. Promise that you will come back here and keep an old man company, a few conversations here and there, and I'll give you a permanent discount on these, as well as any other books that catch your fancy. Sound good?" The man asked, with what seemed like hope of all things in his voice.

"Of course. I don't know your name though..." Harry asked.

"Oh, you can call me Arnold Grey. Now, what about you young man?"

"Harry Potter, sir." Harry replied.

"Hmm. So you're the infamous Harry Potter. A little on the small side for a famous killer of dark lords, don't you think? Of course, I know all the stuff they print about you is rubbish, but still, Harry Potter. I'll look forward to talking with you again. Now, I believe it's thirty-two galleons for the entire Encyclopedia Arcanum, with a twenty percent discount, of course. I look forward to seeing you again!" Arnold said. Harry paid him, before saying his goodbyes and leaving, fully intending to return to the store the next day. Handing the books to Dudley, who put them into the bag, Harry left the store. A hag ambushed him a short way away from the store, being dealt with in the same way as the previous one, her blood covering Harry's already blood soaked face. Harry continued to walk through the alley, when the sound of rapid running reached his ears. He twisted around just in time to see a man leap towards him, eyes yellow and catlike in the moonlight, which reflected off the pair of fangs in his open mouth. Harry's first exsanguinator missed, and he didn't have time to fire a second one before the vampire was upon him. He felt the fangs piece his neck and his blood begin to flow. However, it only lasted a second before Harry's second exsanguinator met its mark, killing the vampire. Harry pressed his hand to the wound to stop the bleeding, seeing the portkey on his finger as he did so.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Harry muttered, before grabbing Dudley with his free hand and saying the activation phrase. With that, he was whisked away back home. He collapsed on the ground as he arrived, his blood flowing between his fingers.

Looking around, Harry saw a metal cabinet embedded into the wall. It looked quite out of place, likely being a recent addition to the house.

"Dudley, open the cabinet!" Harry groaned as his wound continued to throb in pain. As soon as the cabinet was opened, Harry saw that it was filled with first aid supplies. The cabinet was likely put there just in case someone was portkeyed in needing medical attention, having been wounded in battle. Standing up, Harry walked slowly and shakily towards the cabinet, blood already dripping to the floor, running down his side in small rivulets.

Harry pulled out two potions, one being a blood replenisher and the other being a skin repairing balm, as well as a roll of bandages. Harry downed the blood replenisher first, its metallic taste reminding Harry of the blood it was supposed to restore. Then, Harry applied healing balm and bandaged the wound, making sure not to choke himself out in the process. Then, exhausted from the day's adventure, he ordered Dudley to carry him to the house's bedroom. Then, he passed out as Dudley reached out to grab him.

Harry awoke to a dull ache throughout his body, a sticky feeling all over his skin, and a sharp pain in his neck. Groaning, Harry rose from his bed and went to wash himself, ordering Dudley to make breakfast in the meantime.

Once he was clean of blood, Harry put on a clean set of robes and went down to eat, handing his old robes to Dudley in the meantime for cleaning. It was after he finished breakfast that he decided to look at the books he bought, specifically the Encyclopedia Arcanum. He decided to start with the tome on Magical Theory, and he was not disappointed.

The first and foremost thing about magic is that it is based entirely on intent. There is no light or dark magic, merely light and dark uses for it. That being said, a person's magical core will, over time, become attuned towards a particular type of magic based on what is used by its wizard. Magic can also be considered sentient, if not sapient, as well, thus proving the statement that 'The wand choses the wizard' invalid, as rather than the wand choosing a wizard, it is the wizard's magical core that is deciding which wand is most attuned to it. While there is no known case of magic exhibiting true intelligence, magic seems to always seek to do what is best for its user, such as channeling the correct 'code' of magical pulses on demand to produce a specific effect. This 'magic code' is explained in more detail in the Arithmancy volume of this series. Suffice to say that, in layman's terms, the mind sends a signal to the magical core requesting a desired effect, which the magic core then turns into a code and discharges it. This is why accidental magic occurs primarily in the occasion of strong desire on the user's part, discharging only when the user can muster enough intent to produce the correct magic code for discharge, as well as to focus the discharge into a directed spell. In cases where the code is met correctly but the spell is not focused, the magic is dissipated throughout the body and eventually re-absorbed into the magic core.

At first glance, there seems to be two main parts to a spell, namely the physical, which includes wand motions and incantations, and the immaterial, which is the discharge and focusing of the desired magic code. However, were the first of those two parts actually necessary for spellcraft, silent and wandless magic would be impossible. Thus, as seen in the above paragraph, the only thing necessary for a spell to function is enough mental focus to both force a discharge of a particular magic code as well as to focus the discharge into a spell. Why the incantation? Its 'necessity' is explained through the muggle phenomenon known as the placebo effect, which may or may not be a result of their own near-nonexistent magical cores, although that is just conjecture. The placebo effect is, in essence, a positive effect produced entirely through confidence in its occuring. An example would be dying water blue and adding a mint flavor, telling an unaware person that it is a headache potion, and the person being cured of their headache, despite the fact that they simply drank dyed, flavored water instead of an actual headache potion. The incantation does something similar to this, creating a false feeling of confidence in that waving a wand and saying something in an exotic sounding language will produce the desired effect, thus helping in creating an appropriate discharge from the magical core through the placebo effect. This has been proven through experimentation with the common lumos charm, where the test subject cast lumos by saying the incantation first in latin, then saying a synonym in five different languages, including English, Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, and Russian. Each time, the spell succeeded in being cast. This procedure was tested with a wide variety of test subjects, ranging from adults fresh out of school to men above age sixty.

Wandless magic, meanwhile, is much more difficult to perform than silent or multilingual magic, as it requires some true mental discipline rather than just a sense of confidence in the spell working. The wand, after all, all but eliminates the second phase of spellcasting, namely the focusing of a magical core discharge into a spell. In order for wandless magic to work, the mind must be able to replace the wand in terms of acting as a focus. This is shown in accidental magic, but as children grow up, they become dependent on wands for focus and the part of the mind/body responsible for focusing the spell atrophies, as its place was taken by the wand. Thus, many wizards begin to believe that only extremely powerful wizards can do wandless magic, when in fact, there are multiple known cases of children harnessing and controlling their accidental magic entirely without a wand. Thus, a child who has never even held a wand or heard that wands are needed for magic will have a much higher proficiency in wandless magics, partially due to the aforementioned placebo effect, and partially due to the magic focus part of their mind/body not yet becoming atrophied due to wand dependency.

Harry continued to read the book for hours on end, soaking in every detail, before his stomach began to growl. Alerted to this, Harry ordered Dudley to make him lunch and closed the book, deciding to practice what the book said.

With an intonation of ignite, a small tongue of fire appeared over Harry's fingertip, just as Harry willed it to. Extinguishing it, Harry tried it again silently. This time, he noticed it was much harder to ignite the flame, as saying nothing made it slightly harder for him to imagine a flame bursting into existence. He needed to truly focus on a flame coming into being before his attempts at conjuring up a flame yielded any results other than sparks. Thus encouraged, Harry began to experiment with other spell effects, going from conjuring small streams of water or light sources to eventually using his exsanguinators. Then, Dudley announced that he had completed his order, and Harry quickly ate. Then, just as he was about to return to the book, Harry remembered his promise to Arnold Grey. Bookmarking the page he was on, Harry handed the book to Dudley before walking out, Dudley in tow. This time, his trip through the alley was hag and vampire free, although whether that was due to it being still daytime or due to news getting around, Harry wasn't sure. Soon enough, he arrived at Arnold's bookstore. Ordering Dudley to wait by the entrance, Harry entered the shop, immediately spotting the old shopkeeper.

"Harry? What in Merlin's name happened to you?" Arnold asked as soon as he saw the bandages around Harry's neck.

"A Vampire attacked me when I was walking home last night. I got away, and the Vampire didn't." Harry replied.

"A Vampire? Merlin's beard, you fought off a vampire? How did you kill it?" Arnold asked.

"I never said anything about killing it." Harry replied defensively.

"Come on lad, this is Knockturn. If you didn't kill it, you wouldn't be standing here right now. So come on, spill." Arnold said.

"Well, it jumped on me and bit me before I could turn around, and then I just willed it to get off of me and it flew off! Then, I turned around and tried to will the nastiest thing I could think of to happen to it, and, well, it exploded." Harry lied. He didn't want Arnold to know just how much control he had over his magic.

"Hmm. It bit you then? I assume that's the reason for your neck being bandaged? Tell me you took a blood replenisher as soon as you got home, vampire spit acts as an anti-coagulant to keep blood flowing, you must have lost quite a lot of it, even if the vamp didn't get a chance to drain you." Arnold said, concerned.

"I did, but my body's still hurting all over." Harry replied.

"As expected of someone who got into an encounter like that. You see, vampirism is a disease, just like lycanthropy. Both are caused by exposure to magical bacteria living in the vampire or werewolf's saliva, which, assuming the victim survives the encounter, changes them from the inside out. How long did the vamp have its teeth in you?"

"It barely finished biting me before I threw it off, sir, and it didn't have a chance to latch on again."

"Don't call me sir, makes me feel older than I already am. Anyway, you've gotten lucky. There's no known cure for vampirism, but your limited exposure would mean that, in your case, the change could take years, if not decades, to fully complete itself. You'll probably develop a taste for blood pops, maybe have slightly noticeable fangs by the time you're school age, but you won't get a noticeable thirst for blood for a few more years after that. Check the Vampires section of the Sapient Nonhumans volume of Encyclopedia Arcanum if you want to know more."

"What do you mean, I've gotten lucky? I'm a vampire now, aren't I?" Harry asked.

"No, you're not one yet. Most vampire victims either die from blood loss or turn into full vampires within the hour, and the next thing they know they've woken up with a massive thirst for blood and an allergy to sunlight. These ones tend to go mad from blood thirst, like the one that attacked you, as the more advanced the stage of vampirism, the more acute the thirst. You've gotten very lucky, Harry, in that you have years to slowly adapt to your new body, unlike most." Arnold replied.

"Will it affect my magic?" Harry asked.

"Well, most vampires tend to be slightly better at the darker forms of magic, specifically blood magic, and soul magic to a lesser extent, but it shouldn't affect your magical ability in other fields too much."

"What about the sun? When should I start worrying about it?"

"You might feel a little uncomfortable in the sun, but this should work to your advantage, as from what I've heard, the really old vampires can go out in the sun as well as at night due to them adapting to it, and with your slow rate of turning, you might just adapt in the same manner, but I don't know, there's been very few cases like yours. You'll just have to wait and see." Arnold reassured.

The two of them continued to talk, the topic of discussion soon straying away from Harry's new affliction to magical theory, where Harry demonstrated his wandless abilities.

Harry left the store with two new books to add to his collection, namely 'Most Potente Potions' and 'Rituals Most Foule', both of which were written by the same author. These two books were chosen because, while the Encyclopedia volumes covering these topics had plenty of theory, they lacked practical examples. The tomes on Alchemy and Exotic magics were also lacking in practical examples, but tomes on Alchemy were hard to find in Britain, what with Alchemy being much more prevalent in mainland Europe, and the Exotic magics volume covered areas such as African and Native American shamanism, Japanese mysticism, Divination, Tibetian body magics, as well as other magics unique to certain regions or peoples. In order to obtain knowledge in those fields, Harry would have to go to the source, something which he could not do as an underage wizard. This time, Harry portkeyed home rather than risk a walk through Knockturn. Adding the books to his collection, Harry continued to read and practice. After all, the strong were the ones who controlled the world, and Harry would be the most powerful among them all.

Meanwhile, as Harry ate dinner at his new home, a bearded wizard clad in purple robes appeared in front of Number 4 Privet Drive, having returned to his office from an extended journey outside of Hogwarts to find his intruments going haywire, showing that Harry was gone from his safe home. As Dumbledore appeared, his eyes widened in shock at the sight in front of him. Dried blood and splintered bone covered the driveway, and Dumbledore could still sense the residual traces of dark magic, although time had eroded the residue enough that he couldn't tell who had done the deed. Starting to panic, he ran up to the house's door, which was still unlocked. Entering, Dumbledore saw the floor covered in sawdust and wood splinters embedded in the wall. The door to a cupboard under the stairs was blasted to pieces, allowing Dumbledore to see the remnants of a pile of rags that seemed to be a bed, as well as the name "Harry" carved into the wood of the cupboard wall. Running upstairs, Dumbledore soon beheld the fate of the man and woman of the house. Petunia Dursley's severed head, which already had flies buzzing around it, lay next to the rest of her body, a muggle weapon, a 'gun' if Dumbledore remembered correctly, clutched in her hands. The bed and floor were coated in dried blood, likely the remains of her husband. Dumbledore recalled that the Dursleys had a son in addition to Harry staying at their house. That was likely the source of the remains outside. There was no doubt about it, someone, likely one of Voldemort's followers, had gotten past the protections around Privet Drive, and had killed the Durselys before kidnapping Harry. Apparating out of the house to his office, his status as headmaster allowing him to bypass the anti-apparition wards, he quickly checked over his instruments. Most of them were now useless, and the one tracking Harry's location was offline, but the one indicating Harry's health was still active, and showing that, aside from a few injuries, Harry was mostly unharmed! Dumbledore sighed in relief. Perhaps the boy had managed to escape the man who had kidnapped him, likely through accidental magic. Now, all that remained was to find him. Walking over to the floo, Dumbledore prepared to call on his contacts throughout Britain. He needed to find Harry, or all would be lost.

A/N: Thus ends the first chapter of Controlling Darkness. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and will continue to read as the story continues.

Just to make a few things clear, Harry will NOT be an 'Elemental Mage', nor will I try to blatantly overpower him. However, on the flipside, Harry will not be a normal, run of the mill wizard either due to what he will read in the Encyclopedia Arcanum, giving him a unique understanding of magic and causing him to perform his spells differently, sometimes to his detriment. He will be more powerful than the average wizard, simply due to him being the protagonist, but he will not be more powerful than say, Dumbledore or Voldemort at eleven years old. In a fight between them, his chief advantage would be his understanding of magic, giving him an edge in terms of unpredictability, but Voldemort and Dumbledore both have experience and the power of a fully matured magical core, while Harry's still has to grow before he is capable of outputting enough magic in order to match an adult wizard in terms of raw power.

Next is the issue of wealth. Many fics give Harry billions of galleons in multiple high profile vaults. This will not happen here. He has access to the Potter vault at the moment, and unless he decides to research his heritage, it will be the only vault he has access to. This is due in part due to me not wanting to make this story too sue-some, and partially because I really can't be assed to look for or make up complex family trees in order to give Harry half of all the gold in the wizarding world. Some things from canon, however, will remain the same, such as Harry being set to inherit the Black family fortune and his being the Heir of Slytherin through magic, but I won't go out of my way to give him the full set of founders.

Next comes the issue of pairings. There will be no slash pairings, and Harry will not be shipped with anyone during his first year. Eleven year old boys, at least in my opinion, are still getting out of the 'Girls are icky' stage, and Harry, due to his childhood, simply doesn't care for the other sex, although later on, hormones might change his opinion, but that won't happen at until third year at the very least.

The final issue that comes to mind off the top of my head is the relationship between Harry and Dumbledore. Dumbledore will be good in this story, although he will still have much of the manipulative tendencies that most fanfic writers seem to love giving him. Then again, that is kind of canon, as Dumbledore obviously was planning Harry's death from at least fourth year on, steering Harry in the direction of a Martyr. IMHO, this is due to Dumbledore's experiences in the war against Grindlewald. After all, Grindlewald was, without a doubt, the most dangerous dark lord in Europe, having all but started WWII, and while Voldemort was arguably more dangerous, his reign of terror seems to have been limited primarily to England. Regardless, Dumbledore, while he defeated Grindlewald, he was far from the only wizard fighting in the war, and Dumbledore, without a doubt, lost many people to said war, growing to believe that sacrifices must be made for the greater good, thus his treatment of Harry as a sacrificial lamb in order to destroy Voldemort's final, secret horcrux. After all, there is no way he could have truly known that Harry would survive the AK a second time, nor would he be sure that Voldemort would use the AK to kill Harry, as the AK would target the soul, and thus the horcrux, while had Voldemort used a bloodier curse, like the Exsanguinator, it wouldn't have been Harry's soul that was destroyed, but rather his body. Come to think of it, Dumbledore's plan was full of holes and What if? scenarios that could have caused it to fail. Example: What if Voldemort decided to keep Harry alive as bait for the rest of the resistance, and then killed them as they tried to rescue him, before finally killing Harry after torturing him with how he was used to kill his friends. Anyway, Harry will be the subject of manipulations by Dumbledore, either for his own supposed good, or for the supposed greater good, although that line won't be overused. I'm so sick of hearing Dumbledore's obsession with the greater good taken to the extreme, in fact, I'm almost tempted to write a fic where Dumbledore gets sent into the 40k verse and joins up with the Tau for the greater good.

Anyway, that's all the issues I can think of off the top of my head, and I hope you enjoy the story! Ciao!