Seductive Darkness

By: xxlostdreamerxz

Note: There is no slash in this fic.

Serevitus Challenge: Travel through an era of secrets, anger, forbidden magic, and lies. A part of Harry dies over the summer, he returns to Hogwarts a completely changed man/ 6th year. No Slash. R/R

---

Gleaming emerald eyes flickered through the darkness. It was midnight, witching hour, the time where darkness walks the earth. A bitter smile touched his frigid, unused lips. The fact remained, that he was alone, the ones he'd once considered 'family' had deserted him...had left him...to die. After all, he had been nothing but an idol, the so called hero of the wizarding world. They were afraid of him, his power, his fame, especially his destiny. Even the almighty Dumbledore feared him to a certain degree. He was alone...always alone...

Dream

The air was thick with tension, as dark shadows and fog loomed about capriciously. Strangely enough, Harry couldn't help but wonder exactly where he was. For most of his dreams resulted in some repulsive actions done by the one and only Voldemort, but not this time...it was different...too different...

Harry's eyes darted nervously about the shadows and he unknowingly searched for something...or someone. To tell you the truth, he felt slightly defenseless without his wand, therefore incapable of any from of survival. His past experiences with Voldemort still haunted him to this very day.

Out of the blue, a heavily cloaked man stepped out of the shadows. Harry whirled around to face his opponent, and froze. "Harry...come here..." Hesitantly, Harry took a step forward. The man resembled a death eater, the dark robes, black cloak, white mask. And yet, strangely enough, he felt as if he could trust the man...

"My boy...I'm sorry...I have failed you..." he whispered, enveloping Harry in a tight embrace. "If only...I hadn't...been...such a..." he struggled to suppress the raging emotions that were bound to surface.

"An idiot?" finished Harry, looking at the man curiously. Mentally shook his head, 'God! I'm having a decent conversation with a death eater! What in the hell is going on!' he thought in wonder. Harry half expected the man to curse him, however he wasn't prepared seeing the man chuckling at him.

"My son...my boy...remember...this," he said with a soft shake of his head, "That I've always loved you...remember that..." his eyes darkened slightly, as he clasped Harry's hand tightly. "Promise me..." he said urgently, as he began to fade... "Promise me...that you'll understand...and not forget what your heart was made for..."

"But...but...who are you?" asked Harry completely bewildered. A death eater had just pronounced him as his son. "What is going on!"

"You will find out...when the time is right..." There was a small pause. "Don't forget...your...promise..."

"I...I...swear it..." whispered Harry, not knowing why he agreed. Slowly the mist began to clear...and the man was gone...

End of Dream

It was a typical morning at Privet Drive. The sun had just risen and was now shining brightly down upon Aunt Petunia's flowerbeds. A lone oak tree stood near the side garden a few feet away from the elegantly painted walls of the house. It exuded the epitome of normalcy, after all, it was an ordinary house...wasn't it?

A small figure lay sprawled upon the dusty, peeling whitewashed floor of an enclosed cupboard. The boy had a head full of messy black hair and a pair of thick black glasses that lay a few feet away from his outstretched arm. Under his slightly long bangs lay a mysterious lightning shaped scar. Said scar that had cursed him to a life of fear and isolation.

Harry Potter knew that he didn't have any true friends. His entire life had been based upon a lie, for he knew in his heart that his friends wouldn't even hesitate to desert him if they discovered the truth. If they ever learned that he wasn't the Golden Boy everyone claimed he was. He had never wanted his fame, never wanted anything except love and acceptance.

However the events that occurred during the past few weeks destroyed everything. Dumbledore was not the kind and innocent headmaster that he'd once known. Instead he was a manipulator, one that controlled the school with a subtle form of dictatorship. The students and staff were nothing more then pawn to him, and sometimes a sacrifice was necessary. A sacrifice that Harry would never forgive the headmaster for...

Sirus, his loving godfather, the closest thing he'd ever had to a family was gone. Dead...by both Dumbledore and Voldemort's hand. True, he shared his amount of guilt on the subject, however it was only partially his fault. Had Dumbledore ever bothered telling him about the prophesy or about why he needed to learn Occlumancy, none of this might have happened. Dumbledore had always told him enough to survive, but not enough for him to truly live.

He truly had no reason left to live...not anymore. The Dursleys would be ecstatic if he fell over and died. Hell, he was fairly sure that no one would care if he was dead. The wizarding world might mourn for him, since he was the epitome of hope and goodness. In truth, they'd be mourning for themselves, for with his death, Voldemort would be unstoppable. There was no one he trusted, no one that actually knew him. For his facade of the bloody savior was working fairly well.

Harry's eyes darkened slightly with anger. He knew the true reason why Dumbledore had insisted that he should live with the Dursleys. The bloody headmaster wanted him to develop sympathies towards Muggles, therefore insuring his position in the war with the Light. However things didn't exactly go as planned. Harry Potter, had grown up unloved and abused by his relatives.

With a small wince, Harry lifted himself up into and sitting position and leaned heavily against the wall. His left arm was twisted at an odd angle, while his bare arms were literally covered with dark purple bruises and angry red welts. His eyes glazed over slightly in pain, as he stared down at himself.

Last night, Uncle Vernon had arrived home late last night madly drunk. He had insisted that Harry had used his 'freakish behavior' to cause him to get laid off by his boss. Every day single day was a repeat of the last, save for the occasional punch by his 'loving' whale of a cousin Dudley. Wasn't his life just grand?

Harry looked up when he heard Aunt Petunia's shrill voice screeching at him to get up. At that he quickly fumbled around trying to force himself to stand. "Coming Aunt Petunia," he replied obediently as he hobbled painfully through the opened door. The minute he entered the kitchen he was greeted by a 'good morning' punch from Dudley and a deadly frying pan thrown towards him. Reluctantly he sighed, 'It appeared as if everything was in place.'

"FREAK! GET HURRY UP AND COOK BREAKFAST FOR MY DUDDLERS!" screeched his long necked aunt, as she shook her frying pan threateningly. "NOW! YOU BLASTED FREAK!" she hissed, as Harry hobbled over as quickly as his feet could carry him. He released a cry of pain when she struck out with the pan right at his broken arm.

"DON'T MAKE A SOUND YOU FREAK! ARE YOU TRYING TO ALERT THE NEIGHBORS!" she shrilled angrily, not knowing that she was the one that making all the racket. "AFTER ALL WE'VE DONE FOR YOU! THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US!" Aunt Petunia's eyes were red with anger. "WE FED YOU! WE GAVE YOU CLOTHES! WE GAVE YOU A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD! OUT OF THE KINDNESS OF OUR HEARTS!"

"What's going on here?" hissed Uncle Vernon, his tiny eyes bloodshot. His usually pokey pink skin had a slight yellow glean to it. Harry gulped in fear. His Uncle was currently experiencing a hangover, a dreadfully horrible one from the looks of it. And from experience, his Uncle hated being woken up during a Saturday morning, especially by loud noises. Since he obviously couldn't blame his wife, it seemed as if Harry was in quite an unlucky position.

"Vernon! The boy is trying to expose his 'freakiness' to the neighbors!" she cried looking horrified. "First he refused to cook breakfast for my Duddlers! Then he screams when I hit him! What if the neighbors find out!"

At that Uncle Vernon's eyes budged furiously making him resemble a mad bull. "YOU..." he hissed, pointing a finger towards Harry as he advanced towards him. With a hard punch he roared, "I SWEAR YOU'LL PAY!" as he began his onslaught of attacks upon the poor boy. Without his wand, Harry was fairly defenseless. Not to mention he was already severely injured.

"YOU...WILL...LEARN...YOUR PLACE...FREAK!" spat Uncle Vernon between blows, with a smirk he slammed his foot against Harry's stomach. Causing Harry sputter out blood, which accidentally dripped upon his Uncle's shoes. If possible, Uncle Vernon's eyes widened in shock before be kicked out towards Harry again. "YOU BLOODY BASTARD!" he roared, not noticing the pool of blood that Harry was lying in. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Harry's breathing was ragged and uneven, however his emerald green eyes glared solemnly black towards his uncle. However, the gesture just seemed to infuriate his uncle even more. Blood spattered through the air as the beefy man once again began torturing his nephew. He almost sighed in relief as his uncle stalked away towards the closet. 'I'm safe...' he thought calmly, trying to get to his feet. Harry winced in pain, it seemed as if he'd broken his arm somehow.

However his joy was short lived, for his uncle had drawn out a thin deadly rifle from deep within the confinements of the cupboard. Uncle Vernon and Dudley both shared a similar passion for hunting, in more ways then one. His uncle enjoyed the sport of hunting poor defenseless animals, while Dudley preferred beating up younger kids. Their great ardor for inflicting pain often resulted in a father and son bonding moment when they went 'Harry Hunting.'

His uncle's eyes were sparkling with maniacal glee as he loaded the riffle eagerly. Harry saw stars, there was something wet on his hand. He looked closer, blood...so much blood. He hadn't expected Uncle Vernon to attack him, he thought that his Uncle's fear of his 'friends' would save him. But he was wrong...something just never change...

Uncle Vernon returned shortly, with his hunting rifle. He turned towards Dudley, "Come here Dudley," he said calmly, his eyes betraying his sadistic intent. "I'll show you how to use this," he said, holding the riffle possessively.

"But...Dad...what am I suppose to shoot at?" asked Dudley stupidly.

A slow yet cruel smile slowly spread across his face. Uncle Vernon pointed his finger at the crumpled figure lying on the floor. "Him..." A matching smile lit Dudley's face. "Alright!"

Harry's eyes widened in fear and horror. His own Uncle was going to murder him! No, cross that, his Uncle and Cousin were going 'Harry Hunting.' It was ironic, the fact that he was going to be murdered by his own blood. By muggles nerveless.

"Here's what you do," said Uncle Vernon holding the rifle against his shoulder. "First you make sure that it's loaded," he stated, waiting for Dudley to nod. "Then you aim and fire..." He patted Dudley on the back, "Make your father proud..."

Almost like as if in slow motion, Dudley raised the rifle and positioned it a few feet from Harry. Basically it was impossible to miss, especially after Uncle Vernon corrected his aim, and positioned it right between Harry's eyes.

"Are you ready freak!" whispered Uncle Vernon, "Now, you get to pay us back for all those years..."

Dudley's finger slowly pressed the triggered, and a loud bang resounded through the house.

Harry watched as the bullet travel towards him, "NOOOOO!' he screamed, as a burst of power exploded from him, causing the bullet to melt in the process. In that blinding flash off light, Harry Potter disappeared...