This is just an idea I have been thinking about for a while. It's different than my other fic, but I think you'll like it. If you don't, well, shit happens. Before anyone worries though, I will not be abandoning Of Blood and Power. I will simply be writing two stories at once, or attempting to.

Summary: After running away from the Dursleys at a young age, he learned to survive on his own. Faced by the cruelties of a harsh world, he fought for his freedom. Challenged by those above him, he killed for his power. Discovered by the world that betrayed him, he was forced to accept his destiny. But a person can change a lot over eleven years, and Harry Potter has become something they would never expect.

Acerbus Angelus: Dark Angel

September, 1985

The silence of night was broken by a soft scrapping sound, and a thin blade was slipped between the cupboard door and the wall. Traveling up, the blade came in contact with the latch that kept the door locked. The force on the knife increased, and the lever fell out of the catch.

The door slowly swung open, and a small boy crept out from the cupboard. Emerald green eyes scanned the dark hallway, and keen ears listened for any noise.

Satisfied that his relatives were still asleep, the boy walked soundlessly through the dark house. He had smuggled the knife from the kitchen table, which he considered quite a feat. His aunt had been watching him like a hawk throughout dinner.

Retrieving the pillow case he had stashed earlier, the boy checked the contents. There was a small loaf of bread, and a few pounds that he had nicked from his careless uncle's coat pocket. It wasn't much, but he wouldn't have to worry about food for a few days.

He had often gone longer without.

Coming to the front entrance, he turned the lock as quietly as possible. There was a satisfying 'click', and the boy slipped through the open doorway.

The darkness enveloped him as he walked silently across the front lawn, but there was no fear on his part. After four years in the cupboard under the stairs, he was quite used to it.

But no more.

The boy had taken all he would. Never again would he answer to another. From now on, it was just him. Nobody else. He would go it alone, as he always had.

Walking briskly down Privet Drive, Harry James Potter disappeared into the black of night.

It would be a long time before he was found.

June, 1996

Sunlight poured down from the enchanted ceiling as the fifth years entered the Great Hall. It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and the History of Magic exams laying before them would be their last. That known fact was rather comforting for Melissa Potter.

Like all fifth year Ravenclaws, she had studied arduously, but the pressure of the seemingly endless exams was beginning to take its toll.

Tying back her dark red hair, emerald eyes scanned the Great Hall. Many of her fellow fifth years looked exhausted, and oddly enough, that gave her a reassuring thought. At least she wasn't the only one. Her friend Tracey was sitting a few rows over, glaring at Malfoy with disgust as he sat down in front of her.

Catching Melissa's eye, the dark haired girl gave her a slight smile. Though they were in different houses, the two were good friends. Ravenclaw and Slytherin generally got along fine, unlike Slytherin and Gryffindor.

That may have had something to do with Professor Snape though, who was seemingly on an anti-lion crusade. That no doubt stemmed from his own school days, and his feud between the Marauders.

Melissa couldn't help but smile when she thought of them. Over the past few years, Sirius and Remus had filled a parental role of sorts. One she never had at the orphanage. While she was closer to the werewolf than the convict, she couldn't wait to return to Grimmauld Place for the summer.

Thoughts like that though, ultimately led back to family. In turn, thoughts of family ultimately led back to her twin brother.

Her heart ached slightly as she thought of Harry. It had been over ten years since he disappeared from their aunt's house. And while Melissa had never met the woman, she figured Harry wouldn't have left without good reason.

She could never fathom the Headmaster's thought process involved in the decision he made. Why was it necessary to split the siblings up? Scant memories were all she had of her twin brother. Had Dumbledore honestly thought he was doing the right thing?

At least Melissa had a happy, if not desirable, childhood. But would Harry have ran away if he had the same?

After he escaped from Azkaban, Sirius had wept upon learning of his godson's disappearance. The tears had quickly turned to rage though, and the animagus had nearly attacked Dumbledore. Harry was still a touchy subject around the ex-convict, who clung on to what meager hope there was.

Harry James Potter had vanished, and Melissa could only pray that she would one day see her twin again.

The return of Harry Potter was also among Albus Dumbledore's prayers. When he wasn't busy running Hogwarts, advising the ministry, and fighting Voldemort, that is.

Only recently, after Albus provided indisputable evidence, had Fudge accepted the Dark Lord's return. The minister had been denying it ever since Melissa Potter arrived back in the middle of the Hogwarts lawn, clutching Cedric Diggory's dead body.

The past year had been most difficult. He had been stripped of his various positions after telling people of the Dark Lord's rebirth. Fudge had refused to cooperate, saying that Albus was trying to unseat him and disrupt the sense of peace the minister had accomplished.

Albus was still trying to comprehend what Fudge meant by the word 'peace'.

The corrupt politician had finally come around though, and Albus could only hope it wasn't too late. They were lucky Tom hadn't amassed many followers yet. For some reason, he was obsessed with the prophecy, and had spent the past year trying to obtain it.

Albus couldn't understand the reasoning behind it, unless Tom knew that Harry Potter was alive.

If the boy lived though, where was he? Albus had searched for years, before admitting defeat. Even the school owls had been unable to find Harry, and the Hogwarts letters had all returned unopened.

More so every day, Albus was haunted by the choice that he made. Minerva had been right, he should have never left Harry at the Dursleys' house. At the time though, he had thought it for the best.

The blood wards would have protected the boy, so why would he ever leave?

"ALBUS!"

The loud voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he looked around for the source of the noise. There was a square mirror on his desk, buried beneath a mass of papers. It was of the two-way variety, and the Order members used them to communicate.

Turning the small mirror over, he was met by the heart-shaped face of Nymphadora Tonks. Her hair was changing colors rapidly, and she appeared to be out of breath.

"Albus!" the young Auror said, panting heavily. "Break-in . . . . Department of Mysteries. . . . come quick."

The connection was abruptly cut off, and the twinkle faded in Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes. It appeared that Tom had grown tired of waiting.

Sweat was beginning to trickle down Harry Potter's face as he made his way through the seemingly endless rows of shelves. They towered high to the ceiling, and were covered in small, dusty, glass orbs.

The room was very cold, but that didn't bother him. He had become familiar with it over the years.

If they could see their Golden Boy now, Harry thought darkly. He was certainly not what they would expect.

Raven hair hung to his shoulders, pulled pack in a pony tail. The famous scar was on his forehead, and piercing green eyes held a powerful, yet defiant look. His brown cloak was worn and battered, veteran of too manyharsh winters. The robe he wore was rather nice though. It was emerald in color, the stylish cut revealing his lithe build. It flowed down to basilisk hide boots, which were still relatively new.

The robe and boots would both suggest wealth on the owners part, as they were rather expensive. Like what little else Harry Potter owned though, he hadn't paid for them.

Glancing down at his watch, he swore. It had been ten minutes since he knocked out the guard, and he had just gotten to the prophecy room. He would need another five minutes to find the right orb, and he still had to make an escape afterwards. He hadn't missed the two-way mirror, and was pretty sure the guard had used it before he stunned her.

Which meant the cavalry was on the way.

He hurried his pace, all but running past row sixty-nine. Knowledge of the prophecy had come through his scar, which acted like a connection between him and the Dark Lord. It had been September when he began to have dreams of a long corridor ending in a closed door.

As the dreams were not his, Harry quickly deduced them to be the Dark Lord's. Voldemort was obsessed with the corridor, even in his sleep, which meant that Harry was having visions of it as well.

They were rather bothersome, and after a month of losing sleep, he had resolved to learning Occlumency.

It had been a difficult task, to say the least. Books on mind magic were scarce, and as usual, Harry had no one to teach him. Learning the counter art of Legilemency had helped immensely, along with months of hard work His mental shields were now strong enough to keep Voldemort out, and the dreams no longer disturbed his sleep.

Harry's curiosity had been piked though, and memory of the corridor would not go away.

He had found, that by lowering his Occlumency shields, he could use his scar to access the Dark Lord's subconscious. Voldemort didn't guard this part of his mind like he did the rest, and Harry had easily broken through the lesser walls. He quickly learned of the prophecy, and a few other things.

As long as he was careful, the Dark Lord never sensed his presence.

Coming to row ninety-seven, he turned, and started scanning the shelves. A little way down the row he found it. The dusty sphere seemed to be calling to him, if that was possible. In black letters was a date of some sixteen years previous, and written beneath that:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord

and (?) Harry Potter

Harry stared at it. Like Voldemort, he only knew the first part of the prophecy. He had broken into the Department of Mysteries in hope of learning the rest. And maybe get a few explanations.

Like how the hell he was supposed to defeat the Dark Lord.

Giving a slight shrug, he closed his fingers around the glass ball. A feeling of warmth passed through him as he picked it up, as though the light within the sphere was heating it.

Pocketing the orb, Harry couldn't help but smirk. A street ruffian just managed to do what Voldemort had been dreaming of for the past year.

Maybe this Dark Lord wasn't so great.

He pulled up the hood of his cloak as he swiftly backtracked toward the door. He had to get out of this place, and fast. Before Dumbledore and the Bird Club arrived. Though he supposed getting caught by the Hogwarts Headmaster was better than getting caught by the ministry.

If Dumbledore caught him, the game would be up. The Headmaster would no doubt enroll him at Hogwarts, which Harry had no interest in attending. He was pretty sure the school curriculum didn't include the sort of things he had learned over the years.

Getting caught by the ministry, on the other hand. . . . .

Harry briefly remembered the Daily Prophet article from the year before. Some bloke had been sentenced to six months in Azkaban for trespassing and attempted robbery. He had been caught trying to force his way through a top security ministry door at one o'clock in the morning.

Which just happened to be the exact same thing Harry was doing. Give or take a few hours.

Hogwarts or Azkaban.

Harry shivered at the thought of the dread fortress. That soon led to Dementors, which made him shiver even more.

It wasn't much of a choice, he'd take Hogwarts.

Stepping up his pace, he quickly came to the room with the veil. The door on the other side of the chamber led to the lifts, which led back up to the atrium. Once there, he would be outside the wards, and could simply apparate out.

He was halfway across the chamber when he heard a noise. Freezing in his steps, he strained his ears, and listened intently. The noise came again, and Harry immediately recognized it as the swish of a robe.

"Stupefy!" several voices yelled.

As the jets of red light shot toward him, Harry drew his wand with blazing speed. A beam of raw power erupted from the end of it, and he heard a satisfying crunch, before six stunners hit him.

The force knocked Harry backward, and darkness swept over him. He heard a groan of pain from one of his attackers, before he promptly blacked out.