AN: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter. The only things that are the original characters I choose to put into the story. The world, main characters, and everything else you find in the book belongs to J.K. Rowling.

That being said, I plan on updating this story once a week. However, I also have a life outside of this story, which may cause the updates to come every two or three weeks. Hopefully, it does not come to more than that, but I will keep you updated as much as I can about when the next chapter will be coming out.

I currently do not have a Beta. If any of you are interested, please PM me so we can work something out.

As a preeminent apology, I am American. I apologize for not being British or Irish, and for not knowing Harry's exact dialect. I'll try and do my best with the writing, however, please do not get mad if I don't go out of my way to add an extra letter to "colour/color".

About the story. This is a very dark, and eventually evil, Harry story. He will eventually side with Voldemort, and his reasoning for doing so will be sufficiently explained throughout the story. Also, this story is HEAVILY inspired by BolshevikMuppet99's Downward Spiral Saga. It is easily my favorite series on the site, and I would highly recommend you check it out. However, while the concept is similar, the execution will be different. There aren't enough of this type of story, and I feel I should share my version of it. Every author has different takes, so here's mine.

Now for the warnings. As I mentioned before, this will be a very dark story. There will be mentions of both physical and sexual abuse, neglect, and overall mistreatment of children. There will be explicit language, and, mentions of sexual activity, but that won't come until later in the story as the characters mature. There will be murder, graphic violence, and lots of disturbing imagery. If this is not for you, I'm sorry but it's necessary for the development of the story.

As far as pairings go, I have a final pair in mind, but I won't reveal it yet. Harry will not specifically be attached to one character throughout the entire story. THIS DOES NOT MEAN IT WILL BE A HARRY/MULTI STORY. He will not be with multiple people at once, however, he will have different girlfriends throughout the story, at least two and possibly a third. One thing is for sure, this will not be a slash story, especially not an HP/LV or HP/TMR story. If that's what you're looking for, this isn't it.

I believe that is all I have for you guys. Please review and let me know what you think. Please don't flame if this isn't what you were looking for or expecting. I'm always looking to improve my writing, so if you think there is something I can be doing better, let me know through constructive criticism, as that is the best way for me to improve. As always, I hope you enjoy!

'Thoughts'

"Speech"

$Parseltongue$

Prologue:

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The bright green light shot out of the Dark Lord's wand, streaming towards the head of the innocent one-year-old. Voldemort watched with a satisfied smirk as the spell made contact with the boy's forehead, just above his emerald green eyes. What happened next completely wiped the smirk off the Dark Lord's face.

The spell just hovered there, appearing as if it was struggling to break the infant's skin. Completely caught off guard, Voldemort leaned closer to the child, trying to understand what was preventing the spell from killing the child. Suddenly, the spell ricocheted back at the Dark Lord at blinding speed. So fast was the spell that not even Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark lord in history, could block it. The spell slammed into Voldemort's own forehead, causing sheer amounts of pain and agony to course through the Dark Lord's body. He felt as though his body was being painfully ripped apart, cell by cell. The only option was to vacate this body so that his soul might remain intact. However, despite his vast knowledge, Voldemort could only think of one way to save himself.

Focusing his entire will on leaving the pain behind, Voldemort began the process of creating a Horcrux. Except this time there was no object to place his soul in. Hoping against hope that he would pull this off, Voldemort continued to fight through the agonizing pain searing through his body. Just as he thought he was about to lose control, it happened.

Voldemort released his entire soul from his old body, causing it to disintegrate into ash. The force of Voldemort leaving his body caused the earth around him to shake, sending tremors throughout the entire house. The foundations shook, causing many sections of the house to collapse on itself.

But the pain didn't end there. Having started the process of creating a Horcrux, Voldemort's soul still needed to split. Having already left his body, the part was relatively simple compared to previous Horcruxes made. Ignoring the pain became easier, as, with his body gone, the aching of his soul began to slowly fade. Focusing on his soul, the Dark Lord began the process of splitting it. While he had hoped to use Nagini for his sixth Horcrux, something else within this room would have to suffice. And that's when he saw it. Voldemort could tell from the sheer magical presence radiating from it that this was no ordinary Invisibility cloak. No, the only time the Dark Lord felt something similar to this was from the stone. He knew it with certainty. This was the invisibility cloak, the cloak of Death. Not believing his luck, Voldemort finished splitting his soul and prepared to focus on placing the fragment inside the cloak. But, as was becoming a common occurrence that night, not even this would go according to plan.

As soon as Voldemort broke off a piece of his soul, he lost control of it. He couldn't direct it; he couldn't force it to move into the cloak. Voldemort was completely helpless as the conscious part of his soul was whisked away into the night, leaving him wondering what would happen to his now loose soul piece.

Back in the nursery, Voldemort's soul was trying to find something, anything substantial enough to contain it. Whirring around the room, the fragment tested many objects, all of which didn't have the necessary protections on it in order to store the fragment. Time was running out. The distinct CRACK of apparation could be heard multiple times from outside the house, signaling the arrival of Aurors, and possibly even Dumbledore. Panicking, the fragment scanned the room one last time before coming to rest on the unconscious form of the sleeping infant. There was something about the child, something strange. Examining the boy closer, the fragment realized that there was an extremely powerful protection placed on the boy, one never seen before. If it could somehow bypass these protections, he could use the child as a Horcrux. A living, breathing Horcrux.

The sound of heavy footsteps climbing the staircase outside could be heard, which meant time was running out. Realizing this was its only option, the soul forced its way into the sleeping child, expecting heavy resistance. Instead, it found none, the magical core of the child nearly drained. Just as the door was ripped open and a sobbing Rubeus Hagrid barreled into the room, Lord Voldemort's soul fragment began to merge with Harry Potter's.


The first noise to come from number four, Privet Drive, was a high-pitched scream. Perhaps if a passerby heard this they would be startled, but for the residents of Privet Drive, it brought a satisfied smile to their faces. Everyone living there immediately could place the scream to a Mrs. Petunia Dursley. As for the reason behind her sudden unpleasant morning, the residents couldn't care less. Anything bringing that horrid woman down a peg or two deserved public recognition, as far as they were concerned.

As for the culprit behind Petunia's unpleasant morning, he could be found lying in a basket, on the doorstep to number four. Standing there in her bathrobe, Petunia Dursley was fully expecting the morning paper, not a baby. Hurriedly casting glances up and down the street to make sure no one was looking, she pulled the basket inside and slammed the door closed. As soon as she brought the child inside, she noticed a letter wedged in between the baby and the side of the basket. Ripping the letter open, Petunia could only open her mouth in horror the more she read on. She didn't even notice that the baby had woken up and was beginning to wail until her husband's voice boomed from the kitchen. "What the bloody hell is that noise!"

Petunia, not trusting her voice, carried the basket with…him…in it into the kitchen and handed Vernon Dursley the letter. Vernon, for his part, had never seen his wife so shaken. Taking the letter from her quivering hand, Vernon glanced through it before turning back to his wife, his face purple. "No, absolutely not. I don't care what that bloody letter says, he's dangerous and we're not keeping him around!"

"But Vernon! You know I don't want anything to do with…those people. But if we don't take him, we'll be in danger, and…"

"WE'RE IN DANGER NOW!" roared Vernon, "Just imagine what he'll do to Dudders?" At the name of her only son, Petunia's face turned white as a ghost. Seeing his opening, Vernon pressed on. "And this accidental magic bullshit? He could hurt him! Or, what if he makes him one of them?"

"But what do we do with him?" came Petunia's voice, whispering as if the neighbors were listening in.

"What the freaks should have done with him in the first place. As soon as breakfast is over, we're taking him to the orphanage."


Harry was in agony, as was Voldemort's soul within him. As soon as Harry had been brought into the house, something had been trying to stop the merging of Voldemort's soul into Harry's. This is what caused Harry's screams, as his body was not only experiencing his own pain but Voldemort's as well. No time existed, there was only pain. Even though the child was awake, the fragment of Voldemort's soul couldn't make anything out. The child sniffed, allowing the fragment to experience something other than pain. It was musky and hot. Dust riddled the air, causing the child to sneeze. The led the fragment to believe it was in some sort of small room, perhaps a closet. Fucking muggles. They dare to mistreat their betters.

Suddenly, there was a bright light, the basket was moving. The fragment couldn't see what was happening, only that a walrus-looking man was carrying the child somewhere. The pain was becoming unbearable, and soon the soul fragment would have to let go of the child's soul. Sure, it would still survive within the host, but it wouldn't have the additional protection that comes with merging with the child. Just as the Dark Lord's soul was about to let go and save itself, the pain stopped.

The child stopped crying and began to look around. The soul fragment got a better look at its surroundings; it appeared to be outside. The walrus-man was opening what appeared to be a metal door. He roughly set to basket down and slammed the door closed. A loud rumbling noise filled the air, and the fragment could feel himself being moved. After nothing but silence for the next fifteen minutes, the fragment assumed the coast was clear and once again began to merge its own soul with that of Harry Potter's.

500 miles away, a small golden object in Albus Dumbledore's office began to spin. Rapidly gaining speed, the top-like figure was soon a blur. Finally, it gave off a loud hissing noise before exploding all over the office. Not even twelve hours after they had been constructed, the blood wards around number four, Privet Drive, had fallen.


Albus Dumbledore was a very tired man. While everyone had been out celebrating the downfall of Voldemort, Dumbledore had been planning. Planning, because he knew that this was not the end. No, this was merely the end of the beginning. They were now entering the very crucial middle. Voldemort would be back; this he knew for certain. But would they be ready? Would they be prepared to fight off Voldemort once more?

Sighing to himself, Dumbledore pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind. He had a far bigger issue to address at the moment. Pinching the bridge of his nose to try and ward off the inevitable headache, Dumbledore walked up to the door of number four, Privet Drive, and knocked.

A muffled, "Pet, could you get the door?" could be heard from inside, and moments later Dumbledore was faced with a tall, boney, blonde woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties. Despite the circumstances, Dumbledore offered her a warm smile, hoping to ease the tension of his visit. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

Petunia, who had plastered on a fake grin hoping to appear the perfectly normal woman she was, quickly morphed her face from fake warmth to shock. Her mouth dropped open, and before she registered exactly who, or more specifically what, had just knocked on her door.

"Who is it, Pet?" came her husband's voice, his mouth currently crammed with some breakfast pastry. Petunia, however, still couldn't manage to form words.

"I'm going to assume you are inviting me in, as that appears to be what you are trying to say to me." And with that, Dumbledore strode straight past Petunia and into the kitchen. Upon his appearance, Vernon jumped right out of his chair at the table, his face already purple. As soon as he leaped up, Petunia came bustling into the kitchen and almost collided with the old wizard.

"I deman-" but Dumbledore cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I will not take much of your time. Harry is not here. Why?" Dumbledore wasn't asking for an answer. He was demanding it. Gone was the twinkle of his grandfatherly old eyes. Gone was the warm that his face normally exuded. All that was left was the stern face of the man who defeated Grindelwald.

Petunia, who had more time to recover, found her voice first, and immediately went into attack mode. "We NEVER wanted him! You gave him to us in a BASKET! With a LETTER! You gave us no compensation, no warning, and no care as to whether we would want him or not!"

"And the fact that he's family means nothing to you?"

"Why should it?" came Petunia's scathing voice, her eyes turning from fearful to accusatory. "He's one of you. A freak. He's not normal, not one of us."

Rubbing his forehead once again, Dumbledore barely managed not to lash out at these people. "Fine." Dumbledore sighed in resignation. "You still didn't answer my question. Where is he?"

"An orphanage," came Vernon's muffled reply, as he had managed to hold on to his pastry. "Where, might I add, he should have gone to in the first place."

"Thank you. If you will kindly tell me which orphanage, I will be on my way." Dumbledore's voice was tired. After hearing the name of the orphanage, one St. William's Orphanage, the old wizard made his way out of the house. Before closing the door behind him, Dumbledore gave the family one last parting message.

"Your sister was among many people who fought against those who would see you dead. I too was part of that group, and I will continue to do so until my dying breath. I hope that Harry will feel this way too."


"Alastor, gather the Order."

Upon returning to his office at Hogwarts, Dumbledore was greeted by Alastor Moody, who had been expecting his return.

"What is it, Albus? Is he att-" but Moody's paranoia was quickly washed away.

"No, nothing of the sort. Harry Potter has just been placed in an orphanage. I want to set up a watch, for the first month at least, so we can make sure he is getting settled in. We will decide where to go from there."

"That'd be wise. Alright, they'll get the message. When are we meeting?"

"Now."