Seductive Darkness (The Rewrite)

By xxlostmonkey

Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter.

Note: This will be the same story that xxlostdreamerxz wrote, but it will be edited, tweaked a little, and actually be continued. Oh, and absolutely NO Slash!

Summary: Origionally from xxlostdreamerxz. Travel through an era of secrets, anger, forbidden magic, and lies. During the summer, Harry encounters a brush with death, with courtesy from the Dursleys. He escapes to Knockturn Alley, and begins his training…NO Slash! R/R

First Published: 09/22/06

Most Recent Revision: -

Number of Times Revised: 0

"…" Talking

'…' Thinking

/…/ Parselmouth

() Author Commentary


In An Alley

Gleaming emerald eyes flickered through the darkness. It was midnight, the witching hour, the time where darkness walks upon the earth. A bitter smile touched his frigid, unused lips. The fact remained; he was alone. The ones he'd once considered 'family' had deserted him...had left him to die. His current circumstances were quite ironic. After all, he had been nothing but an idol, the so-called hero of the wizarding world. Yet his blood treated him like trash. They were just afraid of him, his power, his fame, and especially his destiny. Even the almighty Dumbledore, the 'greatest' wizard to date, feared him to a certain degree. He was alone…always alone…


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. Most of his dreams resulted in some repulsive actions done by the one and only Voldemort. Not this time however. It was different…too different.

Harry's eyes darted nervously about the shadows and he unknowingly searched desperately for something…or someone. Truth be told, he felt slightly defenseless without his wand, believing himself incapable of any from of survival without it. His past experiences with Voldemort had taught him that much, and they still haunted him to this very day.

Out of nowhere, a heavily cloaked man stepped out of the shadows. Harry summoned up his courage and whirled around to face his opponent, only to be frozen in place. "Harry…come here…" Hesitantly, Harry took a step forward. His brain told him not to listen to this stranger, but for some unknown reason his body seemed drawn to come closer to this person, like a piece of metal drawn to a magnet. Maybe it was the strange essence that surrounded the man that seduced him. The man resembled a death eater: the long dark robes, black cloak, and white mask, though not in the shape of a skull (think of it like the phantom of the opera mask, except it covers the whole face, not just half). Yet strangely enough, through that same mysterious essence, he felt as if he could trust this man…

"My boy…I'm sorry. I have failed you…" he whispered, enveloping Harry in a tight embrace. "If only…I hadn't been…" he struggled, trying to suppress the raging emotions that were threatening to come out to the surface. His bright brown eyes were shining with unshed tears and sadness.

"An idiot?" finished Harry, looking at the man curiously. Mentally Harry shook his head. 'God! I'm having a decent conversation with a death eater look-alike! What in the hell is going on!' he thought in wonder. Harry half expected the man to curse him, but he was not prepared to see the man chuckle at him.

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

"But…but…who are you?" asked Harry, completely bewildered. A stranger 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…" whispered Harry, not knowing why he agreed. Slowly, the mist began to clear…and the man was gone…

End of Dream; Present

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 midnight black hair. A pair of thick black glasses laid a few feet away from his outstretched arm. Under his slightly long bangs was a mysterious lightning shaped scar. The said scar had cursed him to a life of fear and isolation.

Harry Potter knew that he didn't have any real friends. His entire life had been based upon a lie constructed by another. 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. He had never wanted anything except love and acceptance. But he doubted that anyone would give him those things that he yearned so much for if they knew the true him, the real him deep inside, not the façade that was created for him. There was only one person who had really accepted him.

However, the events that had occurred a few weeks had destroyed his dreams. Dumbledore was not the kind and innocent headmaster that he'd once known the man to be. Instead, Dumbledore was a manipulator, one that controlled the school with a subtle form of dictatorship. He covered it all with his claim for only doing what was best, but Harry saw the truth behind his words. The students and staff were nothing more then pawns to the headmaster, and sometimes a sacrifice was necessary. And Harry would never forgive the headmaster for one such sacrifice…

Sirius, his loving godfather, the closest thing he'd ever had to a family, was gone. Dead…by both Dumbledore and Voldemort's hands. True, Harry had his own amount of guilt on the subject, however it was only partially his fault. Had Dumbledore ever bothered to tell him about the prophecy 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. Now Harry had to live through the consequences of Dumbledore's blunder.

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 even care if he were dead. The wizarding world might mourn for him for a small period of time, since he was the epitome of hope and goodness. In truth however, they would only be mourning for themselves, for with his death, Voldemort would be unstoppable. There was no one he trusted, no one that actually knew all of him and not just what was on the surface.

Harry's eyes darkened slightly with anger. He knew the real reason behind 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. Unfortunately for the headmaster, things didn't exactly go as planned. Harry Potter had grown up unloved and abused by his relatives. Instead of loving muggles as Dumbledore intended, Harry has come to hate them for their prejudiced, shallow, narrow-minded characters.

Harry laughed. There didn't really seem to be much difference between the character of a muggle and that of a wizard. Both were greedy, selfish and discriminating. The only difference is the presence of magic. Maybe it wasn't being a muggle or a wizard that made one inferior. Maybe it is just human nature to cause such pains and conflicts on others.

With a small wince, Harry lifted himself up into a 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.

Uncle Vernon had arrived home late last night, madly drunk. He had accused Harry for used his 'freakish behavior' to cause him to get laid off by his boss. In his blind fury, uncle Vernon had attacked Harry, who could not do much in defense, since Harry had been too deep in his mourning to really react quickly.

Harry grinded his teeth in frustration. Summer had been hell for Harry. Every single day was a repeat of the last, save for the occasional punch by his 'loving' whale of a cousin Dudley, or slap from his anorexic Aunt Petunia. Wasn't his life grand?

Harry looked up when he heard Aunt Petunia's shrill voice screeching at him to get up. He quickly fumbled around trying to force himself to stand, not wanting to be slapped in the face yet again this morning. "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 aimed at his head. 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, LAZY, GOOD FOR NOTHING BOY!" she shrilled as Harry hobbled over as quickly as his feet could carry him. A cry of pain escaped his lips when she struck out with the pan right at his broken arm.

"DON'T MAKE A SOUND YOU PIECE OF TRASH! ARE YOU TRYING TO ALERT THE NEIGHBORS!" she hollered angrily, not contemplating that she was the one that was making all of 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 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 early during a Saturday morning, especially by loud noises. Since he obviously couldn't blame his wife, it seemed as if Harry was going to be blamed for the whole circumstance.

"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 the still boy. With a hard punch he roared, "I SWEAR YOU'LL PAY FOR ALL OF THE TROUBLES THAT YOU HAVE CAUSED!" Uncle Vernon 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…YOU 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 he kicked Harry in the stomach again. "YOU BLOODY BASTARD!" he roared, not noticing the pool of blood that Harry was laying in. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Harry's breathing was ragged and uneven, but his emerald green eyes still glared solemnly black towards his uncle. However, the gesture only seemed to infuriate his uncle even more. Blood spattered through the air as the beefy man once again began beating 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 had broken his arm somehow.

However his joy was short lived, for his uncle returned to the kitchen with a thin, deadly rifle in his hands, taken 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 children. 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 malicious glee as he loaded the riffle eagerly. Harry started to see stars; there was something wet on his hand. When he looked closer, he saw blood…so much blood. He hadn't expected Uncle Vernon to attack him. He thought that his Uncle's fear of his 'friends' would keep him from serious harm. But he was wrong…some things just never change…

Dudley then entered the room. Uncle Vernon 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 supposed 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 never the less.

"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. It was impossible to miss, especially after Uncle Vernon corrected his aim, and positioned the gun to aim 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 trigger, and a loud bang rang 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…

: A: Prologue completed! Hope you all appreciate the fixed grammatical errors from the original and liked the few minor changes made to the prologue. Jess is taking the backseat as of right now, so that leaves me to fix and/or rewrite the chapters that she had written so far. When I reach the point where she had stopped, then Jess will come back in to help me write the story. She might occasionally decide to drop by and tweak some things too, but that is unlikely considering how lazy she can be. Remember to leave some reviews!

Next Chapter: A: I don't know when will be the next time that I can put up the first chapter, since I have several projects and other stuff that I have to do, and I have to start studying for some upcomming tests that I have. I'll try to up soon though.

Preview: A: I'm sure that most of you who are reading this right now are people who have already read the original version and are only reading this to see if any changes to the plot have been made. Well then, you already know what happens next. For those new readers, in the next chapter Dumbledore will learn what has just taken place in the Dursley's house…