Author: SunstreakersGlitch

Inspired by: Death of today actually, and some good fic's, seriously some people are so very creative.

Story: Pace tua: Cursed- With your consent: Cursed.

Warnings: This will be slash/ man-on-man.

Disclaimer: Don't own, Don't want, Haven't stolen... So you can't sue.

Please review honestly and if you have any suggestions to improve my writing, share the love!

The real A/N:

So listen up guys, I started this story years ago and I haven't exactly been active on fanfiction lately, for all the time since an update posted I am sorry. I'm getting back into the swing of things but don't expect perfection. My first goal is to rework some story's with what I consider a good plot and make them something beautiful.

Some important points:

I hate Mary sue/Gary sue unless it's parody, so again, sorry if my Harry came off that way, I'm fixing it, promise, and on that note, Harry will not be super awesome or powerful, he's going to have human struggles.

He was originally supposed to be a mild sociopath, to give some flaws to work around, in the later plot that didn't work, sorry if personality changes aren't met with approval.

Thanks for reading still.

Updated 11/18/13

1980 was a dark time for the world of wizarding England.

During the late 60's and early 70's many political evolution began, less were laws about muggle control voted on and more were muggles sympathized with by wizards. Wizards attitudes regarding them shifted from weary of the danger they presented to patronizing fondness for the ability muggles had to cope without magic.

This did not sit well with some.

England's wizarding society had long stood by traditional values, aging as slowly they did, change was hard to come by. The traditionalists began to form a harsher party to regulate muggle laws more stringently, adding in more traditional values such as anti-werewolf laws and reaffirming the honorable practice of arranged marriage.

The Party became known quickly as The Knights of Walpurgis.

As the 70's wound to a close many changes began to occur in the Wizengamont, England's governing body of wizards. Albus Dumbledore had stepped back into the political arena after his retirement from that life in the early 60's. Albus took on the mantel of Supreme Mugwhump, leader and deciding vote of the august body. He had noticed a disturbing trend of violent accidents in the members voting against the Knights, he noticed seedy deals and harsh demands and badly concealed black mail. The corruption deeply disturbed him.

Albus finally confronted a lone Knight who seemed to pull a majority of strings, Orion Black, and the confrontation that began a war ensued. Orion had intended to finish off Albus and be on his merry way home quickly. Albus had quickly subdued the man and questioned him ruthlessly on the aims and goals that became more and more sinister seeming.

At that first spark of violence the Knights sprung into action, violent attack after disturbing murder after vicious fight, it seemed never ending in the first weeks, and it just carried on from there. as the Knights rose to the fight a leader among them was becoming apparent. a charismatic man calling himself Lord Voldemort.

As the Dark Lord Voldemort was rising, the wizarding world was awash with uncertainty and rife with shock. Since Grindewald's defeat at the hands of Albus Dumbledore in the 40's the world had been at relative peace. It was an age of political power, not brute strength. In the interring years lazy wizards occupied the Auror ranks and took on the HitWizard role, ministers who worried of Ballroom dances and solstice celebrations held the office declaring the world at peace.

They were unprepared; they were not ready for another Dark lord. Some claimed the most famous of Light Lords to be among them in the form of Dumbledore, but that could not hold back the terror. People were panicking and fear rose in the air.

Everyone was on edge and one witch in particular was cracking from pressure at this development.

She was prepared. She had known, the great Albus Dumbledore had told her himself in confidence, of the man Voldemort. She would be sure the war ended with the Light victorious, no matter the sacrifice and means.

Lily Potter sat with three other darkly robed figures hunched around a small bassinet in a dark muggle pub. The whole corner they occupied shrouded under privacy charms and silencing spells. The tiny child inside was almost nine months old but looked as young as a new born with the delicate porcelain face and miniature hands squeezing the crimson blanket around him. His thick dark hair was blending with the black pillow he rested on giving his skin a more sallow and sickly white tint than pale.

Lovingly the red-haired witch reached foreword to brush the midnight locks from the child's forehead, baring the marking of the dark ritual the four had preformed to make this child a being capable of surviving the coming storm that was war.

The lightning shape the mark took was abnormal to the blood ritual used but not something worrisome, what was problematic was the pulsating aura it gave off, clearly proclaiming it as a curse mark or blood mark to any with the talent to feel it.

The baby's thick lashes parted and his tiny rosebud mouth opened in a silent 'o'. The woman shuddered as did her companions as they caught sight of the eerie green orbs sparkling with intelligence back at them.

He was gorgeous really. Maybe it was mothers opinion she mused, but he was less fussy than any child she'd met His eyes were focused on all going on around him. Thick and already curly black hair so common among the Dark Purebloods.

"Do you see what we made him?" The witch whispered brokenly as she drew her hand back from the bassinet and the child.

At birth the baby's eyes, Harry he'd been then, just baby Harry James Potter, had been a deep blue, almost lavender, they had shortly darkened and in the months before the ritual had been almost violet purple.

Two days ago on the eve of his ninth month that had changed. The eyes had melted to a piercing green, eerily bright and clear. No hint of blue or gray clouded within the orbs to dull them to a more mundane hazel.

The figure sitting next to her twitched slightly before he could control himself. The witch caught the gesture and said dangerously, her own blue eyes narrowing "Oh yes Sirius WE have warped him and taken away his choices in life. Do not ever doubt that. It was all of us, and we share that burden" Her tone sharpened and turned more mocking as she looked to the other two silent figures.

"While you participated in the blood ritual and adopted him so carefully, making him your own son, he IS my child. I carried him for nine long moths and gave birth to him, held him in my arms and swore to protect him. This is not right, you know it and I know it. We...we k-k- did what we did and in doing so tainted OUR child."

She paused, the passion of her words still riding the air making the other three shift uncomfortable, before she went on subdued.

"James suspects something is not right. Dumbledore himself asked after his remarkable eyes just yesterday. Even trying to mask the mark on him was risky, with Dumbledore one never knows, but i suspect he's suspicious as well. I think our time with him is over."

Sirius hissed drawing back from the table and pulling into himself.

"So soon?" he asked in a whisper. His own silver eyes holding the child's green gaze.

The tallest of the cloaked figures laughed harshly, his silky voice snapping coldly "Black did you expect time to coddle our son with love and childish delights? To spoil and pamper him with toy broomsticks and playthings? No. Lily is right, the Dark Lord is rising, he hasn't presented himself to the public at large yet but the dark mark burns in the sky almost daily and the Knights are restless, it is best if we do this tonight."

Sirius hesitated, still seeming unsure.

"In case you have forgotten Black, two of us are owned by the mad man. Do you want to risk the Child's life on a whim? You might as well cast the Avada Kedavara yourself if we keep him near us! We are obvious targets in this Merlin blighted war." Severus Snape continued heavily.

Lily's eyes were bright and decidedly unreadable but she nodded, crouching to grab the bassinet and the silent child. Pulling out an empty plastic bottle from the depths of her cloak and placing it on the table. Holding the childs carrier close she murmured "Escape" as they all drew together across the table and touched it. The silent jerk of the Portkey pulling the five of them sideways through time and stole them from the muggle pub.

They landed heavily near the Leaky Cauldron, a highly magically populated part of muggle London. Both Severus and Lily kept their feet as they met firm earth once again but the other two men were sent sprawling, causing Severus to smirk and mutter about incompetent Aurors and Death Eaters and the future.

They didn't want to be seen hovering about and risk someone recognizing the odd group and were off quickly, moving towards the only building standing at the end of the most run down alley they'd ever seen. A tall and looming building made of harsh red brick and the words "Muller Orphanage for Youth" crumbling from a low hanging sign. The sign had the Five of them pausing and staring.

"Can we do this? Leave him and expect miracles when he enters our world again?" Sirius asked, more to himself than the others.

It was a pointless remark; they would leave him, which in the end was all that mattered.

The baby might be the youngest and most innocent sacrifice in this war, but others had alreadysacrificed before him. Already the five, themselves, had stepped over lines they could never retreat behind again. The things done in this Child's name had tainted them and their souls to putrid black. All for a flimsy dream.

"His happiness is not our goal. Severus, You more than any other know the pain of a home not worth living in. Will it be too much? He won't have the chance of the others. He will grow and mature HERE. No one will adopt a child with Killing-Curse eyes." Lily asked in a dead voice, giving them this one last option for a token objection.

Her pain, suffering, love and dignity had all been striped away for the child she held. Never again would she be whole for what sins she had willingly committed. She would never be lauded as a hero and given an Order of Merlin, but this child was the future. Some may even clamor for Azkaban for her and the others. But they had done as no others could.

The price they had paid was willingly spent on the hope of the future of their worlds existence and peace.

Protecting him wasn't something she could do directly. Her husband felt the darkness leaking from his already strong aura. Her mentor and the Light Lord could see the murder in his curse green eyes. He wouldn't be safe around magic folk who could sense his wrongness. But if the protection of a Muggle orphanage wasn't worth the price at hand, would take him far from his path, she would be condemning them all.

Severus inhaled sharply through his nose. His childhood hadn't been a pleasant experience, but he had come out the other side remarkably whole for it. Surely this child wouldn't be faced with the animosity of Severus' own half-blood heritage. This place was filled with other lonely children and adults dedicating their lives to those left behind children.

His son would be safe here until he began his magical education; this was a chance for him to be normal when he had been made and abomination in the eyes of most of society.

"Let us do this Lily." His voice was overly tender, too emotional, but she didn't comment. Lily's own tears had been shed the day she condemned her soul for the future of the wizarding world. She nodded and they all moved forward once again.

Sirius stood behind Lily with Severus at her side and the tallest figure hanging far behind the others. Lily knocked hard, three sharp raps, and braced herself for what was to come. The door didn't budge and no sounds were heard. Just as they began to wonder if they had come too late in the day the door burst open and a petite, plump, woman in her late twenties answered the door.

Her face was set in a soft smile, with sienna colored eyes revealing an emotion almost pity and halfway jaded regard, as though she knew the people before her and understood the sacrifice they had made. Her skin was the soft graying ivory of African descent by way of Ireland, with coarse black hair tight in a bun on her head. Her outfit was a simple pair of beige slacks and a white button up shirt, both looking worn and clean. While she was nothing to intimidate, the four of them were more than apprehensive, put on their guard by the air of understanding she gave off.

Lily was determined though. She stepped forward with a forced smile and clutched the bassinet until her fingers whitened with pressure.

"My son." Were the only words she could say.

It was all that needed saying.

One did not come to an orphanage with a child so young to leave with it again. Come to that perhaps the woman did understand their sacrifices, if not the magnitude.

She looked down and was startled to see the Killing-Curse eyes blinking up at her once more. Steeling her resolve she pressed the bassinet and its precious cargo into the young woman's expectant arms.

Severus stepped forth as the red haired witch turned and hurried away, leaving before she could take her child back. The other two crowded in behind him as he began speaking, both solemn and supportive, feeling the same keen loss as Severus and roiling with the burden of guilt that it was their own fault.

"Charlus Eli Arcturus James. He was born July 31st in 1980. Mothers name is Elizabeth James, father unknown. He has no other family and Elizabeth is in an unstable condition."

Severus seemed overwhelmed by that small monologue and his own guilt beat at his heart and soul. He turned away quickly following Lily up the path to the apparation point, closely followed by a silent Sirius. Both fathers left behind the son whose tainted innocence was their only salvation, the only reason either could believe and strive for redemption.

The last man, the last blood-and-magic father stood at the door of the orphanage and felt a cold restricting band begin to harden around his heart. He was already a cold and jaded man. He did not believe in his redemption nor did he want salvation.

His tiny son was in that bassinet being clutched to the chest of an undeserving Muggle wench, the child who was almost a pure-blood scion of three noble and dark houses, with the powers of love and sacrifice warring in his corrupted soul. The four had gambled recklessly and were desperate for a hope that was unrealistic and years in the making.

His son, His son, who already had a visible aura to those looking, an aura thick as morning fog the same color as his Avada Kedavra eyes, his powerful and dark son. Such power and nobility and purity, was his by blood and magic.

And he, the child's father, was a bloody coward.

Lily had made the three men promise a wizards oath before even beginning the plan that had ripped their scarred souls to shreds, an oath to never ask the orphanage to tell more than what Snape had recited, never ask them to deliver a letter and not have any purposeful contact with the boy until he re-entered the wizarding world.

Yet he had written a letter.

It was short, uninformative, vague and obscure in the extreme. Alluding to power and magic, giving the reasoning behind all of his names but the last, touching on his own contributions to the boy's appearance and avoiding confirming anything.

But he couldn't do it.

Even as he stood thinking it he felt the tightness of the wizard's oath around his right wrist, three burning coils keeping him from giving his beautiful cursed son even the little comfort of a letter.

His veins were icy with guilt. The steel band that was cooling around his heart turned brittle and shattered piercing him deeply. He understood then. The killing, the torture, the pain and humiliation- Nothing. Not compared to abandoning the boy before him. He was changed and shattered. An already broken man, bound body and soul to a child that was essentially a weapon he'd created.

"No!"

The woman holding his child-HIS- called to him firmly just as he was about to walk away. The imprudent muggle bitch. She had the arrogance to call him back from his departure as she cradled that precious bundle to her chest? He almost drew his wand. Crucio might be a bit harsh for her minor sin, but a well placed Maulitino might teach her to hold her tongue. He turned to do just that when her piercing eyes caught and held him enraptured.

"Give the son of the triad the letter you hold."

She said firmly, a quality in her voice sounding much like a command had his left hand moving down to his pocket and a growl on his lips.

"Triad?" he questioned softly, wanting her to do something, anything, to allow a hex or curse to pass his lips, satisfaction for the gift she had received unjustly in the form of his precious son.

"But of course, Son of Prince, Son of Black and Son of-"

He cut her off abruptly. "He is son of Four, not three woman."

His heart rate had picked up; he still had a heart after the icy betrayal that had shattered his very being? The woman knew something. The Sight was common among muggles and filthy squibs moreso than wizards, he shouldn't have been surprised, she looked at him the way Xeno used to when he had caught sight of something new, back before- No don't go there.

The woman laughed lightly. His patience was almost gone and since she knew about the world he came from anyway, the cool and familiar weight of his fourteen inch yew wand with its threstle hair core was tingling pleasantly in his hand a moment later. He gave in and growled an animalistic huff that conveyed how very far his lineage had given in to the madness they were born to. The Seer bitch's eyes never wavered their piercing stare even as his wand touched her throat.

With a careful smile she explained lightly.

"The woman chooses three men of dark and rebuffed the light in him at every turn. His once-father removed his heritage and you three Sons of Night gave him another. The flower was once pure and still held too much light, the Hope that you created is too dark for the sun she represented. He is Son of three. A Knight in the making, more pure of blood than he was born to. His soul isn't torn and tarnished as yours were in the process used to wrought yourself an uncontrolled weapon, but he was darkened. He'll lead a merry chase and birth the Chant Du Mal Court and release a new wild hunt. Your hope will be the salvation you seek, but a blacker light one cannot find."

Though her words were not prophecy, he knew she was genuine, reciting all she Saw and Felt. He couldn't go on like this. He grabbed his letter of vagaries and threw it to the ground, jerking his wand back he disapparated in front of her and did not care to think upon it. When the crack from the man's leave settled in the air the woman picked the letter up and turned away. She had warned them.

She spared a glance down at the baby, Son of Three, Leader of Armies, Enemy of Light and Dark Lord Master of the Last Wild Hunt. His glowing eyes the exact color of the Avada Kedavra curse were pools of understanding. His soul was a deep rich silver-green, surrounding him in a cocoon of power. He was already everything he would ever be. Through the spirals of time he had already done, would do, and was doing all he would ever accomplish or fail at.

The wizards thought the Lord Voldemort was bad? Cruel and wrong? The Light Lord encouraged the beliefs they held as well, courting many away from the truth, but the Son of Hope, this young man now called Eli could save the world. She closed her eyes briefly as she Saw and Felt again his pain, he would suffer, always suffer. The early years would be worst on him, eroding his innocence and destroying childhood. But it must be.

she almost felt compassion at the thought.

She stepped forward and felt the world shift around her. She was in another, smaller, dingier room with dozens of beds, a few cribs unoccupied sat in a corner.

She carefully picked up the small child and placed him down in the tatty nest of blanket, stroking his forehead. The intelligent and tainted eyes floated closed as she lulled the boy to sleep. Leaving him here, in this new orphanage all the way across the country from the original one would stall them. The Threewouldn't find him until he entered Hogwarts, and by then, he would be a bitter boy lost and alone permanently. It would not help that his letter would be delayed and he would enter in his fifth year, not the first.

But if the Light Lord caught onto Lily's deceit too early the boy would be terminated and no hope would come.

Turning her back she left the letter with the child and melted away again. So much to prepare in the next fourteen years.

So little time.

But for now, let Voldemort have his fun and the Light Lord wreak havoc on the balance.

StarGuide2013