Hey everybody. This is my second story on FF.net, so it takes a back burner to my first story, "Deeping Dream", a Darkstalkers tale. I got the idea for this little number while reading the fifth Harry Potter book- at the beginning, I kept thinking, "Why isn't Harry yelling for answers?" Personally, I wouldn't take all the crap 'ol Harry did... I would have throttled Sirius until he told me everything. This story is an idea I had- what if Harry got mad and freaked out? This starts right after the Hearing at the Wizengamot, during the encounter with Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge. Please review me- I would love to hear from you!

NOTE: Thoughts indicated in parentheses ().

Chapter 1


Harry stood, listening to the argument between Weasley and Lucius. He stood there, wondering a single question: Why me?

(Why?) Harry thought, his mind a raincloud of sorrows. (Why? What have I done, except the best for them? I defeated Voldemort as a child- due to my mother, true, but I still defeated him- and I stopped him from getting the Sorceror's Stone. I defeated the memory of Tom Riddle left in the diary and his pet basilisk- true, if Fawkes hadn't shown up, I would be dead, but that diminishes the feat in no way- and I saved Ginny as well. In my third year, I saw Voldemort's servant Pettigrew escape and freed my godfather- although those are things I can't tell anyone- and last year, I came out of the Triwizard Tournament with Cedric Diggory's body in my arms. I SAW VOLDEMORT RISE. And is this... my reward? My thanks for giving my all, for living in fear almost every day? To be left in the dark by friends and hounded by my enemies?)

Tears almost sprang to his eyes- and then they were pushed back by a flood tide of sheer anger. More hatred than Harry had ever felt rushed to the front of his mind- he barely heard Fudge say "This way, Lucius"- and in it, a single thought came out.

(Make them pay.)

Mr. Weasley, taking one look at Harry's haggard and drawn face, decided to stay quiet. The history of Wizarding might have changed had he spoken, but he said nothing.

Harry, left to his own thoughts, brewed them into a stew that was black and thick and viscous.

( I will make them pay,) he thought, letting darkness nestle in his mind like a owl coming to roost. ( I will strike them down, one by one. They will learn to fear me. I am not a child, to be pushed about-)

As he thought this, they stepped into the "elevator" that led upwards through the Ministry of Magic. As they stepped out, heading back, he looked at the fountain. The wizard, who looked so handsome from afar, looked like a fool up close. The woman had the blank, vapid smile that often appears on the faces of women who have realized that their bodies are far more valuable than their minds in this world. Harry stopped for a second, considering throwing a coin in, then decided not to. After all, he would need the money.


After returning to the Order of the Pheonix's headquarters and being greeted by everyone (including a very shaken Hermione), he announced that he was drained and wanted to sleep for a while. He was allowed to go, and he heard Mr. Weasley speaking to Sirius as he left.

" Settle down! Listen, Sirius, Lucius was at the Ministry-"

Harry heard Sirius' interrupting "What?" before closing the door of the bedroom he shared with Ron. Sitting on one of the beds, he began thinking. He had to know now if he had it in him- if he had the will to strike down his foes. He thought of them all, each time asking himself, " Can I kill them?". And each time, the darkness rolled forward and enveloped him, and the answer was "Yes."

Harry looked at his hands. They would soon be the hands of a killer.

The thought caused a grin to appear on his face.


Several days passed- Harry helped the others clean out Sirius' old house- with nothing happening. Harry plotted and planned (as well as studied), but nothing could be done yet. No one here- save perhaps Sirius and Mrs. Weasley, who had kept information from him- were on the wrong side of his account books, and anyway he already had his first target in mind:

Draco Malfoy.

It finally drew to that precious first day of school. Harry found himself a booth next to Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and a strange-looking girl whose eyeballs were too big for her head. Ginny announced that her name was Luna Lovegood. Shortly afterwards, Neville's new pet cactus showered him with gunk, seconds before Cho Chang- a girl Harry had secretly longed for for quite a while- happened to look inside. Harry became almost angry enough with Longbottom to rip his throat out on the spot, but held his temper.

Although several things happened between this time and the time of Sorting, none of it was of note to Harry- save perhaps the new teachers. One was one of those who had voted against him- her name turned out to be Umbridge. Harry grinned when he saw her- a very cruel Fate had delivered this woman to his hands. When Malfoy was dead, Harry would see to her.

The first week, Harry avoided trouble- he almost rose to the bait several times in Umbridge's class, but thinking of her eventual demise prevented him from losing his temper. It was vital that he not get detention- he had a special subject he was studying- the art of pushing.

There were so many ways you could shove someone, he was discovering. And that was what he planned for Draco Malfoy to discover very soon.


Sunday, First Week of Hogwarts School.

The day that two things of import happened, related very heavily- the day Harry Potter learned telekinesis and Draco Malfoy died.

Harry had been in the library every spare second, researching what the wizards termed "force projection"- the magic of throwing physical force as a concentrated power. He had no trouble out of others- only Hermione and Ron asked him anything, and he said that he had heard that Mrs. Umbridge was going to put them on a force projection test soon. It was a good enough cover lie, and neither of his friends wanted to talk to Umbridge to find out.

Harry had narrowed down his choices to two magic spells- one that emitted force one acted out a set distance away (The Mobilus Longilus Charm) and a more complex spell that gave the user the temporary power to move objects with the mind (the Telekinesis Charm). Harry chose the latter and practiced every day. At first, just using the spell was tiring, and his mind could only move small objects- feathers, hats, socks. But in two days of almost constant practice, he found he could move larger objects- his heavy books, his dresser, and once when no one was looking, he had used it to trip Neville Longbottom. Everyone had laughed and figured that Neville had tripped on his own feet- but Harry knew better.

Neville's trip meant Malfoy's death was near.

Harry's plan was very simple. He would wait outside the top of the stairs leading up to Slytherin House with his Invisibility Cloak on. He would wait until he saw Draco's gang- him, Crabbe, and Goyle, most likely- and then quietly cast the Telekinesis Charm on himself. When Draco got to the top, Harry was going to hurl all his might at him. Draco would fall- breaking his back and skull against the stone.

Harry waited that night inside his cloak, a expectant look on his face. Strands of hair fell into his face, and his lips curled in a strange snarl. Anyone who could gaze at him then, through his cloak, would swear they had glimpsed a demon.

He heard rather than saw Draco's group walking up the stairs. Draco was telling bad jokes that Crabbe and Goyle were both laughing at. Harry grinned. (Enjoy your last joke, Malfoy). As Draco topped the stairs, blond hair perfectly combed and looking immaculate in his expensive robes, Harry shoved with his mind.

Harry had a very pleasant view of Draco's face, looking perplexed indeed, as he saw that his body was falling over the banister. He was already past it when Crabbe and Goyle caught on. Goyle tried to grab him, but his hairy arm came up far too short to grab Draco. Draco uttered a single choked scream before his skull imploded on the stones below.

Inside his cloak, Harry grinned.

The darkness closed around him.