A/N: I really should not be writing this with the fics I currently have going, but I am anyway. My other fics won't be updated as often anymore any.
Disclaimer: Me no owny that freak. Freak won't die. Freak twat. Freak not mine.
They don't care about me; I can see it in their eyes. They may act like they do, but they don't, any fool can see it. And I am definitely a fool for once believing what I did.
I once thought they cared about me, not what I stood for, not what I symbolised, but I was wrong. They only care about what they think I stand for, the hope I supposedly give to millions in the magical world, but if they only knew.
If everyone was to find out who I really was still during the school, what my intentions really were, then the world would have been plunged into chaos, and the majority would lose hope or die. It pretty much did happen when they found out, though there was still hope. I was pretty tempted to tell everyone just so I could see their reaction at the time. But no, I didn't tell them. I waited until they put one foot so wrong that no one will truly be able to blame me for turning, or that until Voldemort managed to kidnap me and it would be more justifiable. And what a glorious day that was.
Now, I suppose you'll want to know what I'm on about. That's fair enough, but remember, when you've heard what I am about to tell you there is no going back. You can't erase what you have heard, and you can't erase what you know.
For starters my name is, to the entire world, at least, Harry Potter. To the entire wizarding world I am a symbol of hope, love and light. It's sickening. Everytime I think about it now I just want to go out and shout it from the treetops who I really am. But no, I will wait until the right time.
I'm a fifteen year old and I go to a magical boarding school. I also have an ugly scar on my forehead that people nearly always gape at, and if they don't gape at it they're trying not gape at it, which is probably more annoying.
I got my scar when I was one year old (this is all what the wizarding world was told, and what I was too, if you're wondering) when the most powerful dark wizard in centuries, Voldemort, killed my 'parents' and tried to kill me, only he failed thanks to my 'mothers' sacrifice. That has to be one of the best lies I've ever heard. Sure, the facts are right on how I got the bloody thing, but not about died protecting me, and who Voldemort killed. But I will tell you more about that later.
After this, old Professor Dumbledore (he's a manipulative old bastard, so if you ever meet him beware his every move, for he probably will just want to turn you into a pawn like he had done to me), took me from the wreckage of my 'parents' house (well, technically it was the gamekeeper, Hagrid, who took me, but that detail isn't really that important) and placed me with my 'uncle' 'aunt' and 'cousin' to keep me 'safe'. What that basically means is that I wouldn't turn out like Voldemort. How that was supposed to work is beyond me. Any one should realise that if they didn't want me to turn out like Voldemort then you shouldn't place me in an abusive household to grow up, just like Voldemort was. Dumbledore can be pretty idiotic at times.
As I grew up I was, essentially, my relatives slave. I was forced to do all of the chores in the house when I wasn't in school. And when I was in school I got the extreme pleasure of being my cousin's punching bag. What fun! I was constantly called a freak and worthless, got regular beatings and I was rarely given much to eat. Plus the presents they gave me for each of my birthdays and every Christmas I spent there were the worst. I think the best thing they ever gave me was a full box of tissues, or possibly a couple of pairs of second-hand socks. Not the sort of presents many people would ever want.
When I first got my Hogwarts letter the Dursley's (my relatives) tried, foolishly, to keep it from me. They destroyed everyone that came, until my uncle decided to have a nervous breakdown (it was pretty funny, to tell the truth) and got us to start moving around the country for a few days. We eventually ended up on this rock in the middle of the sea on the night before my birthday, and then, just as it got to midnight Hagrid broke down the door.
Hagrid is one of the few people I still consider as a friend. He helped me, and he's never lied to me, or at least I don't think he has.
Well, anyway, he gave me my Hogwarts letter and took me to London later that day. I got my school supplies, an owl and my wand (ironically the brother wand of Voldemort's) and then he gave me my ticket and he left me on a train back to Privet Drive (yes, that's alone. I was 11 years old and along on a train. And I didn't care in the least).
During my first year at Hogwarts I actually managed to get some friends (that was a big deal for me, though now I wish I hadn't befriended any of them). I also faced killer plants, giant chess sets, trolls, bucking broomsticks and Voldemort. No big deal.
In the following summer I almost got expelled because a house elf cast a hover charm on a pudding, and then the Dursley's decided it would be fun to lock me in my room (well, technically it was Dudley's second bedroom, but when my first Hogwarts letter had arrived the year before they moved me up there) and, basically, starved me.
Well, after that I got rescued by Ron (he used to be my best friend, but I'll get onto that explanation in a while) and two of his brother in a flying car. I spent the rest of the summer at their house.
Well, my second year was pretty boring, if you count facing the sixteen year old preserved form of Voldemort who had been inhabiting a diary for fifty years, some acromantulas (giant spiders that are basically like Shelob from Lord of the Rings, if you've read those books or seen those movies), basilisks (giant snakes that give a whole new meaning to the phrase 'death glare'), flying a car to school instead of taking the train like everyone else, having house elves trying to kill you in order to save your life (that's house elf logic for you), having to deal with 'freshly caught Cornish pixies' because your teacher is a complete imbecile and having to deal with rogue bludgers boring. I know I don't.
Okay, the summer before my third year my Godfather who was sent to prison for the murder of 13 people, one of whom was still alive and was actually the one who killed the other 12, all of whom were muggles (non magical folk). He was also put in Azkaban for betraying my 'parents' and selling them out to Voldemort. It was actually the same person who killed those 12 muggles who betrayed my parents, so you can guess my Godfather was pretty pissed off. Anyway, everyone though that Sirius (my Godfather) was out to get because he was supposed to be Voldemort's right hand man or something, so there was top security around the school, including some of Azkaban's guards, Dementers, around the school gates.
Dementers are amongst the worst creatures you could meet. Muggles can't see them, but they know they are there due to the feeling cold and stuff (I think a lot of muggle believe these to be ghosts, not dementers) whlst witches and wizards can both see and feel them. They're basically Grim Reapers, dementers are, only instead of bringing death, if they kiss you your soul gets torn from your body. You're still alive, but you have no memories, thoughts, actions or anything. You're basically a shell. So you can see why they brought these into the school in order to try and stop Sirius.
Well, the year went by pretty quickly with the exception of one professor who liked predicting my death every lesson we had with her. At the end of the year we discovered that one of our professors was a werewolf and the truth about Sirius and Peter Pettigrew (the one who killed those unlucky 12 muggles). After that I was almost kissed by a dementers and would have been if my future self hadn't fought off all 100 of them (it would take way too long to explain that).
That was my third year, and in the following summer I went to the Quidditch world cup. Some of Voldemort's Death Eater's decided to show afterwards, but not much else happened. In the actual school year there was this Triwizard tournament and I was a contestant. Voldemort came back at the end of the year and killed another of the contestants too. Yet another eventful year, as you can see.
Fifth year was pretty simple. Before the year began I nearly got expelled because I stopped a dementer from kissing both myself and my cousin (the dementer was sent to Privet Drive unofficially by the Minister's senior assistant who became that years Defence Against the Dark Arts professor). During the school year I received a life-long Quidditch ban and I discovered that there was more to my connection with Voldemort than just a scar. Unfortunately, Voldemort discovered this at about the same time and used it to his advantage (you kind of had to expect that, he is a Dark Lord, after all) which resulted in me falling into a trap and Sirius dieing.
My sixth year at Hogwarts, I don't think I'll ever forget it. The rest of the school probably won't either, come to think of it. It only finished a couple of weeks ago, and several memorable things happened all throughout the year.
Do you remember when I told you Ron used to be my best mate? Well, the fact that we're not isn't due to a fight between the two of us or the same reason I no longer count any of those I used to count as friends friends any longer. The fact we're no longer best mates is due to the fact that it's kind of hard to be friends with the dead when they aren't ghosts. You probably wouldn't know if you haven't tried, but it is true. It is hard.
Ron died by, which is something I may as well explain, falling to his death. Me, Ron and our other best friend, Hermione Granger (stupid mudblood know-it-all), were walking to Transfiguration when a fight broke out somehow between Ron and Draco Malfoy (Me and Ron had never exactly… seen eye-to-eye with Malfoy, so we were constantly fighting with him), and Malfoy (we still don't know why he did it now) pushed Ron over a banister to fall to his death. Ron grabbed a hold of Malfoy in an attempt to stop himself from falling, resulting in the two of them falling down about five floors down to the entrance hall below. The two of them landed Filch, the school's caretaker and the bane of every student's existence, killing all three upon impact. It's certainly an interesting way to die and a sure fire way to get more students to attend your funeral (if you're not Filch, that is).
There were quite a few other things that happened during the year, but there was one thing that shocked me beyond belief and successfully turned me away from the Light. And I discovered it from the manipulative old bastard himself.
It was during an occlumency lesson with Fumblefuck. Occlumency is the art of cutting yourself off from your emotions and shielding yourself from any Leggilimency attacks by building up a mental barrier. Anyway, during one of these lessons (which I have to take in order to protect myself from any of Voldemort's mental attacks) I sent a spell at him when he tried to view one of my more personal memories, and I viewed one of his instead. I've done that before. It happened when Snape was still teaching me Occlumency, though he stopped teaching me after I kind of looked in his pensieve without permission and saw his worst but that's beside the point. The point is that now I am glad I saw the memory that I did.
The memory itself was of what occurred on the day of my birth, nearly sixteen years ago, which only the Old Fool knew about. I think it would be easier to show you what I saw instead of explaining it.
"No! Please! Not my baby!" a woman sobbed as she tried to protect her child from Dumbledore, who stood near her Infirmary bed, trying the take the child away.
"Now Mrs Riddle! Give me you child immediately!" Dumbledore ordered angrily.
The two of them argued for a short amount of time, and had a brief struggle, which ended with Dumbledore standing over the bed, the sleeping child in his arms. He quickly turned his wand on her. She, after realising that she wasn't going to get her child back, shifted as far away from her husband's nemesis as she possibly could on the bed, scowling at him.
"You'll never get away with this Dumbledore," she snarled. "My Tom will hunt you down and make you pay for all of the crimes you have done and will do!"
"I have done no crime," Dumbledore responded, his eyes narrowing. "I am saving the world from another Dark Lord. Avada Kedavra!"
There was silence for a few moments before a couple of people entered the room, with confused expressions of their faces.
"Ah, Lily, James," Dumbledore sad to them, any look of ménage that had previously been on his face gone as he looked at the young couple. "It's good of you to come."
I think you can probably guess what happened next. The Potters adopted me, under the impression that my mother had been on the run from Voldemort, had gone to Hogwarts seeking refuge and had died giving birth to me, leaving me orphaned. They never even though to question what happened to my father, or who he was.
That's everything that happened in my life up to the tenth of July. It was on that day my life changed forever and all of the bitterness inside my soul finally got a decent way to be released. And I didn't kill anyone that day, if you think that. Oh no, my first kill took place much later.
I can remember that day perfectly, as if it were only yesterday. It seems strange, since so much time has past, but I can remember it nonetheless. I think it may have something to do with the fact that it was a very important day in my life that changed it totally and pointed me towards the dark even more so than Dumbledore had. Either way it probably did me a load of good, or evil, or whatever.
The whole good/evil thing seems pretty confusing to me now. I guess my father was right when he told me there was neither good nor evil, though I do not think what he said about power is true. There is more than power in the world, a whole lot more, but I'm getting distracted.
That happens a lot nowadays, me being distracted. I just wish I knew why. I will probably find out someday, though it isn't important at the minute. Right now I have a story to tell, my story of when I turned and the following events. I am Harry James Potter (we never changed my name, no one could truly be bothered and the name Harry Potter meant so much to the wizarding world, why should we change it when it gave up an advantage over them?) and this is my story.
A/N: Okay, everyone, what do you think? This fic is going to be long and darker than anything I've ever written before and I'd really appreciate comments, whether good or bad.