Warning- Torture, Death, Mentions of abuse, Homosexual Relations, and Sexual Intercourse. DumbledoreBashing! WeasleyBashing!-(Not all) DarkHarry! SadisticHarry! PowerfulHarry! CreatureHarry!

Summery- Harry isn't who everybody thinks he is. He is manipulative, he is conning, he is dark, and he is very-very angry at Dumbledore. When he was bound to the headstone after reaching the cup will his true colors be revealed? Or will he continue to be the snake in the lions den?

Pairing- Voldemort/Harry

Arthur Note: I erratically change the story with edits every now and again so don't be surprised when you read that some things may have changed. I may also have multiple spelling or grammar mistakes that I will fix with these edits and I may even change the POV or written style ever now and again.

Direct Warning: Chapter contains a little bit of SMUT. Yaoi Smut.

Disclaimer:

"...blah...", cyan blurted - Speaking

'...thinking thoughts unspoken' -Thoughts

"Can I..sssslytherin?" -Parstletongue

Introduction:

Harry Potter was not having good day. Here he is in a cemetery strapped to a tombstone by way of a very convincing looking grim-reaper statue, and forced into a very shady looking ritual by his parents betrayer. Harry couldn't even find his voice to complain about the whole situation. He had long since been used to being forced into situations were he would rather not be forced into being in. Being forced into this triwizard tournament can be taken for an example on the long list of things he would rather not have been forced to into doing. Harry never once complained except to voice his opposition at not having had any part into being made a so called 'champion', but that was because he didn't want people to think him dim enough to even take part of this so called 'friendly' competition. He didn't take part in this for glory fame or money. He had enough of that already. No. He was forced to participate because otherwise his magic will be forcefully taken from him. He didn't feel the need to complain or oppose the competition because it didn't help him in such matters. He just braved the storm like always.

He however hated being forced into situations. Hated trying to be controlled. He, since he was forced to live with those damned Dursely's, has learned that complaining only gives you another beating. Complaining does not do anything other than to harm you.

Harry knew that they've been trying to break him. Trying to make him weak so they have more control over him. Harry let the Dursely's think they had control over him. Harry let anyone and everyone since the days before he even turned eleven think that he was as weak as they thought. He let them think he could be controlled. Let them think that he didn't have chaos hiding beneath his skin just waiting to be released. He let them see only what he wanted them to see. Harry crafted the mask of a broken boy ever since he was six. He found that having a mask of being weak gave his uncle less of a reason to try to beat his willfulness out of him. No one not even his supposed 'family' knew he was a vengeful, blood-craving, and rage filled uncontrollable demon.

It was only when Harry turned eleven did he have to edit his mask to something else. He had to change a little bit by bit so as to not seem suspicious. Harry still kept his weak mask as he knew that there were others who were going to try to manipulate him especially a very powerful old coot. He kept that mask of false weakness for one man. One man. It was because of this one man, Harry ever since coming to the wizarding world, has been told who he should be. He used this to his advantage. He let them see what they wanted. He let them see the weak boy that was still strong. That's way he cast those glamers upon himself. A glamer so strong that not even Dumbledore's glasses of reveal could see past them. He cast the glamer of a weak boy growing into the image they had crafted of him. He let them see and think that he was of who they wanted him to be.

He let them think that Harry's actions were caused by their manipulations. So Harry has followed through with what ever they wanted wholly and fully, but what they had not seen was his looks of contempt he gave them when their backs were turned. Harry loathed how they didn't even try to hide their manipulations, thinking he would be too blind by the light to be able to see them. They thought he wouldn't know what they were trying to do to him. He has known since he was eleven that they all saw him as a tool. A weapon to be used and abused. They called him a savior, but they saw him as a weak boy to use for their own greed. They saw him as a weapon, as a toy, as a tool for manipulation and power. They saw him as a means to achieve fame and fortune. Harry knew it all, but he will let them use him. He let them do what they wished with him until there is a time where he could be free from their grasp on him.

He has known since arriving here that his so called friends would only be using him. Harry knew of the Weasley's treachery. He has known since his trip to Gringotts last year that they have been funneling money from him. Harry knew Hermione had been stealing books from the Potter vaults. Harry also knew it was Dumbledore who had given them all the means to do this to him. He has known Dumbledore was his magical guardian since he had seen Hagrid hand the Goblin his vault key. Harry knew that Dumbledore saw him as a means of manipulation because he thought the Dursley's had already broke him. To bad for him that they hadn't.

He doesn't see the looks of pure loathing Harry gives him when he tries to drug him with truth serum or love potions or when he tries to use mind magics to erase his memories. Harry has wondered for so long how dumb Dumbledore must be to believe that those potions would have any effect on him and how long before he see's he can't actually read his real thoughts with legilimancy. He wonders how long it take the old man to figure out that Harry became a natural occlumens/legilimens after being subject to both Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears so trying to manipulate his mind has now become impossible. He also wonders how long it will be until he found out that since secound year he's immune to all forms of potions whether hurtful or helpful including those loyalty potions he keeps spiking his goblet with. How long it would take him to see that he sorted himself into Griffondor. How long it will take the man to see that he didn't have any real control after those two years of weakness when the potions still had effect on him. He wonders just when he'll find out that all his memories were returned to him as well. Harry wonders just how long it will take to figure out that his familiar Phoenix was no longer the mans own, but Harry's.

Harry never wanted to kill someone so much as he did one man. One man who kept secrets from him. One man who lies to the world. One man who wants him dead. One man who wanted him to be weak. One man who had fooled the world of his own version of the greater good. One man named Dumbledore. The man who has stolen from Harry. The man who had pushed Harry into one to many situations. Harry knew the wizarding world is blind to the mans manipulations. Blind to the fact that Dumbledore isn't a god or that his greater good is a means to hold unto his power with his too many titles. Harry would keep this mask of weakness until the time was right.

He will wait until the time is right to lift his carefully crafted mask. The time he showed his true power. The time he showed that he has been lowering his grades to be underestimated. The time he showed that he wasn't to be trifled with. The time he revealed that he had more power and sway over the public then even Dumbledore. The time when Harry will show Dumbledore that he knew of his ancient and noble linage. He will wait for the day Dumbledore is dead to dance atop his grave. He will wait until it was time to show his hand. The time he showed just how dark he truly was. The time he showed that he was made of chaos. The time he showed he can't be controlled.

Harry however was tied to a tombstone by the man who was the cause of his parents death. Harry knew whatever this man did would not be good, but he had long since learned that struggling against the tide did nothing, but drown you faster. Plus Harry always had a curious mind. He watched as Peter with dramatic flare cut Harry's hand. He watched on in morbid fascination as Peter cut off his own hand. He watched as Peter through some old bone into the cauldron. He watched as Peter through what looked to be a deformed baby into the mix. What occurred next was not what harry expected to occur. His long ago ex-enemy, since he had found out that it was all a set up from the old man, was reborn as a handsome twenty something year old. He was also very-very gloriously naked.

Harry froze in shock against the ropes that bound him as he shamelessly stared at the handsome figure of the black haired man that gracefully rose out from the cauldron.

"Peter, Robe!," Voldemort commanded.

"Y-y-yes m-master," Peter stammered nervously as he pointed his wand gingerly at Voldemort. Peter, with murmured words, magicked the black billowing robe onto Voldemort's pale gloriously fit form.

Harry studied the man. Voldemort was older then what he looked like in the dairy when he was for the last time under the effects of the compulsion potions and loyalty potions. He looked to be about twenty-five or so. He still had the black hair, but his eyes were different from that time. He had ruby red eyes. His face was still as it was just more mature then his sixteen year old self. He had the same high cheekbones above his smooth hollowed cheeks. Still the same sculpted jaw. The same straight nose. What had mostly changed was that he had matured into his young looks. Gone was the handsome lanky teen was Tom Marvalo Riddle that he had seen in the chamber, now stands the wonderfully aged and fit Voldemort.

'To bad he robed himself. I was liking the eyeful I was getting,' Harry thought shamelessly as he sighed -going unheard by the two men- in disappointment as the pale figure was hidden from Harry's eyes.

"Give me your arm," Voldemort demanded.

"Th-Thank you, master," Peter said as he held out the damaged limb.

"Not that arm you dolt! The other arm!," Voldemort yelled as he took out his familiar yew wand. It was just like Harry's own. The same bone white. The same feather core. The only twin wands in existence . It was only that Harry was a master at glamours that allowed him to disguise his wand from Dumbledore since he updated it last year when he found that the wand didn't feel the same as it did before and had it checked at Ollivanders. Turned out the wand was fixed with many enchantments to bind his magic and him to it.

Peter complied to Voldemort holding out his other arm that had the dark mark etched into it. Voldemort did some quick wand movements over Peters damaged limb.

"Consider this as your reward for your loyalty," Voldemort spat as what looked to be molten sliver formed a new hand for Peter.

"Th-thank you, my lord," Peter said as Voldemort pressed his bone white wand to the dark mark on his forearm. Peter winced and whimpered at the burning pain as Voldemort called his Death Eaters. Harry watched on in growing amusement at how the two seemingly forgot his very existence. He heard several cracks from apparition as he saw several people arrive to the scene. A smirk threatened to appear on Harry's glamoured lips when he saw the cloaked Lucius. Harry saw several others that he recognized as parents of some of the Slytherin students. He saw Lord Nott, Lord Crabbe, Lord Goyle and curiously Heir Barty Couch Jr who was assumed to be dead.

'Lucy's going to get in so much trouble isn't he,' As the though came upon Harry his lips twitched in amusement, threatening to break apart his carefully crafted mask. Harry hated the man ever since secound year with the whole situation with Dobby. Lucius didn't treat the creatures with the respect they so deserved added to the fact of the matter that Lucius didn't have control over the damn thing causing Harry to be unjustly punished for the unruly elf made Harry hate both Lucius and the elf somewhat. Harry always wondered if Lucius was secretly envious of the house elf's for being more loyal and more powerful than himself.

"I'm so very disappointed in you, my most loyal," Voldemort drawled as a smirk once again threatened upon Harry's face at Voldemort's obvious sarcasm. 'Who knew Old Morty had a sense of humor?'

"You never once came to find me? Did you?!," Voldemort continued as he glared at Lucius threateningly.

'Let the show begin,' Harry's mask finally shattered when Lucius through himself to the ground causing Harry to very slowly grin a wide Glasgow grin.

Voldemort, Lucius, and Peter, however couldn't see the scary look on Harry's face as they were turned away from Harry, but the other death eaters in attendance stiffened in a combination of confusion and fright at the look. They watched in growing fascinated horror as Harry's glamour also began to deconstruct itself because of his control over it breaking. 'This is a perfect opportunity as any and since my mask already broke I might as well break my glamour.'

Harry's form shimmered as his glamour fell away, revealing what has always lied hidden underneath. Harry was a beautiful being. Dangerously and inhumanly beautiful. His body shrunk somewhat revealing a more pale petite stature and a more lithe form then it's previous muscular toned and golden tanned body. His dull moss green eyes changed to their original luminescent glowing emerald green, glittering in amusement at the frightened looks he was receiving. His old short untameable brunette hair grew longer stopping at waist length. It was straighter, silkier and it bleed the color of inky black from the old brunette roots it once was. His lips grew blood red and plump above his gently pointed chin that warped around his curved jaw. His lips drew up in obvious amusement as he grinned wider at their shock, fear, and confusion. The grin revealing his very sharp white pointed canines. The audience shivered in both fear, and arousal at the sight. Harry's heart shaped face with his smooth pale cheeks and it's high bones looked to be the most angelic face anybody would ever had seen if it was not for the impossibly wide grin that split from ear to ear as it almost seemed to beacon in lust for their life's blood.

"Forgive me, my lord," Lucius began before being cut off by the very irate dark lord.

"Forgive nothing! You have abandoned me. Me! Your Lord!," Voldemort said with growing intensity in his eerily calm voice, "You will be punished! .:Crucio:.!"

As the red light from the spell hit Lucius, the death eaters backed away from him as the screams began, but instead of staring at the screaming Lucius or their lord in fear they were staring at the being tied to the tombstone that was laughing and giggling in such a way that would make Bellatrix Lestrange look like a sane cute little puppy in comparison. Their eyes wide and doe like in fear.

Voldemort caught up in his own amusement of Lucius screams didn't notice the demented laughter or the frightened looks his Death Eaters were giving his guest behind him as the Death Eaters too fixed on the demonic being behind them had seemingly forgotten all about Voldemort rage and Lucius screams.

Voldemort lifted the spell watching Lucius twitch, when he finally noticed the laughter he remembered his guest. A chill went up Voldemort's spin as the hysterical laughter was chocked down into giggles to stop entirely as an enchanting voice he didn't recognize pouted," Why'd you stop? I was enjoying that."

Voldemort spun around so fast he looked to be just a blur.

"Who are you?!," Voldemort demanded as he glared at the young being. Pointing his yew wand at him accusingly. The being just pouted at him. Not the least bit afraid or intimidated.

"How could you, Petite Mort, forget about little old me? I've been here this whole time you know? I even donated a bit of my red life blood for your little resurrection," Harry giggled in obvious amusement.

"You dare find this humorous!,"Voldemort glared venomously at Harry before he frowned in contemplation without withholding his death glare, "And what did you just call me?!"

"You don't like it? Petite Mort," Harry questioned innocently as he looked over Voldemort's figure. "I think it quiet suits you," Harry huskily stated as he licked his lips absently.

"You dare-,"Voldemort began gripping his wand tighter as his followers backed away further.

"Oh I dare~," Harry purred musically with a lusty grin as Voldemort backed away slightly as he caught Harry's lust filled gaze,"Now are you done with asserting your dominance over your minions?"

"They are NOT my minions!," Voldemort glared harshly as Harry unbound himself from the tombstone.

Popping his joints as he stretched he caught Voldemort's own appraisal of his body. Harry just ignored the teenage sounding retort. He smirked devilishly as he caught Voldemort's appreciative stare."Like what you see Petite Mort?~," Harry purred as he stalked closer to Voldemort with a predatory like glint in his eyes.

Voldemort backed against a tombstone as Harry moved closer to him. Voldemort felt his back press against the cold of the new tombstone. Harry pushed him further against the the cold grey stone. He pressed against Voldemort's body. Harry ignored the shell shocked audience as they all seemed to take a sharp shuddering intake of breath at once. Their fear being further replaced with the tangy scent of lust and heat at Harry's small demonstration.

Harry placed a knee between Voldemort's legs. Rubbing it slightly against Voldemort's hardening member. Voldemort moaned slightly in response. Harry drew closer until his mouth was in front of Voldemort's own. Teasingly, Harry moved his lips past Voldemort's and brought them right next to the shell of Voldemort's ear. He whispered in Voldemort's ear in husky sounding parsletongue,"Do you wanna know a secret?"

Voldemort panted and groaned as Harry's knee rotated around Voldemort's growing arousal, but Harry didn't wait for an answer as he licked and nibbled on Voldemort's ear haughty and continued speaking,"You. are. mine." Harry punctuated each of his words with a sharp rotation of his knee and Voldemort whimpered slightly before catching himself.

Voldemort weakly tried pushing Harry away from himself as he hissed in breathy parsletongue,"I am NO ONES!"

"I beg to differ my mate,"Harry hissed back as he backed away from his mate to sit on a flat alter like tombstone, leaving Voldemort panting and leaning against the other tombstone for support,"I would continue, but I would rather not be watched by your minions...unless you want them to that is?"

(A/N Petite Mort is French for little death or innuendo for orgasm)

End Introduction 1/?