Jaded eyes of a Prodigy
Summery: Harry learned early anything you do you do for yourself. Discovering Magic early in life he will set out to change the world in a way no one expected. Dark, twisted and slightly insane he will give Voldemort a run for his money. However, not everything is as it seems and there are surprises at every turn. Will his revenge be obtained or like many before him will he fall short? In a world nothing is certain and power means everything a lot will stand in his way. Soon, Voldemort and the entire world will not know what hit them! Harry will surprise them all but mostly he will surprise himself, can he obtain it all or will the world fall apart around him? How will the light handle the monster they have created? Read to find out!
Pairings: LVHP main others still figuring out
Prologue: The Early Life of a Prodigy
The houses on Privet Drive like most houses were all identical and horribly normal in every way anything unique or extraordinary was quickly snuffed out in this neighborhood. However there was one thing that could not be destroyed so most settled for ignoring it all together.
Which is perhaps why no one cared very much that the extraordinary little boy they stubbornly ignored was being stuffed in the closet at the moment. Harry didn't know what it was that made him so strange so different from the other little boys living in the neighborhood.
He was extremely intelligent for one his age, at four he already was a fluent reader and the basics of math had already conquered. Nonetheless, his intelligence had he been living anywhere else would have been view with awe and glorified not looked upon with sneers.
The truth of it was he had been forced to be cunning, sly, and clever whatever one would call it to survive in this household. Harry stared at the shadows dancing across the cramped walls of his cupboard envious of their freedom. He turned his thoughts to what got him locked in his 'room' again, he had been caught doing the secret thing today and if he knew his keepers he would be locked in here for a few days yet.
The day had started normal enough Aunt Petunia screeching through the door to get up and make breakfast with Uncle Vernon bellowing how ungrateful the 'boy' acted. Harry mused he only knew his name because he had read it on the blanket he had been left with when he had been DUMPED on their doorstep. His name was Harry James Potter; sometime he had to remind himself that because after a while he had gotten so used to being called boy, freak and whatnot.
He had gotten up made breakfast for his loud trio of relatives and set to work on the chores for the day, Monday, was cleaning the house, tending the garden, picking up after his slightly older cousin, and making all the meals of course. It had been about noon when he had finished cleaning the house so he had set out to set the garden to rights.
His Aunt wanted nothing but the most perfectly ordinary garden on the whole block so no weeds were allowed EVER to grow. Harry actually very much loved the garden, making things grow, tending to them lovingly even though by the end his hands were raw and blistering by the end of it (he wasn't allowed gloves).
He had checked he had been careful or so he thought but his Aunt had caught him doing the secret thing that made the weeds go away for a long time. Which was why he was in here staring at the shadows dance because he was strange not because he was so smart no it was 'cause he could do the secret thing.
He glanced at the door as he heard the padlock click loudly into place, he sighed knowing he would have to wait a very long time for anything to eat. A small smile tugged at his lips reaching slowly into the darkest crevice of the cupboard and pulled out his treasure. It was a battered old forgotten book that had been there since before he could remember, it was thick the thickest book in the house actually, filled with all sorts of fairy tales.
Harry very much doubted that his aunt and uncle even knew it existed; the first story had always been his favorite of Never Neverland and Peter Pan with his fairies. No not because he never wished to grow up in fact he couldn't wait to grow up so he could escape this place no it was the very beginning that made this story his favorite.
Peter Pan had lost his shadow and was trying (and failing) to get it to stick to him. Harry did think it was rather cruel that windy had to sew it back on Peter should have just asked his shadow to come back to him. He loved that part so much because Harry very much wanted a friend someone he could talk to so he secretly hoped that his shadow would come to life so he could befriend him.
He sighed again it was not to be shadows didn't come to life no matter how much he wanted him to they were just shadows, darkness in its purest form. Harry actually very much loved the dark who wouldn't after hours sitting in his pitch black cupboard he felt the safest in the dark hiding from his bloody relatives.
Harry hated Privet Drive hated the uniform houses hated how perfectly normal every single house was not one house different from its neighbor not ONE unique in any way. He hated Aunt Petunia hated his whale of a cousin Dudley but most of all he hated Uncle Vernon more then he hated anything.
Sometime he'd sit alone in the darkness of his cupboard and wish he had the strength to crush them to hurt them the way he was hurt. Most of all he was lonely most of the children around either ignored him or actively beat the shit out of him Dudley leading them all. He felt so worthless the only thing that gave him the right to exist was the secret thing because no one else he knew could do it, no one.
He sat there the rest of the day reading his treasure imagining he was somewhere else, a place where he was alone and no one could come near him…so no one could ever hurt him. He waited patiently until night and he heard two twin pig squealing snores and one high-pitched wheeze that signaled they were asleep.
He used it to open the padlock making it float soundlessly to the floor with a soft clunk as it hit the ground. It had taken him a while to figure out how to do that, make things move that is, but it had been worth it. He crept out of his 'room' silently slinking along the wall hidden in the shadows of the wall.
He made it to the kitchen safely, he then set about getting the food he would need for the next few days, a loaf of bread that the Dursleys had forgotten about, a couple bottles of water and a couple apples that Dudley refused to eat but Petunia bought anyway.
He floated them along using his acquired stealth to make it back to the cupboard after he had the food in he closed the door. Now was the hardest part unlocking things was easy but locking them was harder though he somehow managed to get the padlock back in place again they would be none the wiser.
Harry hated Christmas, though when he thought about it he hated every holiday they were pointless if anything they were the worst days of the entire year. It was Christmas though that was particularly bad, after slaving away to make sure everything was how their precious 'dudders' wanted it he was forced to stand their and watch their happiness.
He had to stand there and watch Dudley be coddled with affection and gifts. Watch them smile and laugh it was during these times that he really felt his existence meant nothing to the world. The year had been uneventful he slaved away turned a year older and learned to do more with his secret thing.
Sometimes he wondered what it was that kept him living on the way he did, what was the meaning of living; what made his life better than anyone else. There was something he wished for, he thought about every waking moment of every waking day and sometimes he even dreamed about it.
Oh…he knew what he thought/fantasized about was utterly wrong and evil he just couldn't make himself care. The thought had always been there but it had come to life after watching a particularly gory horror movie from the shadows (Vernon had not caught him watching the movie). He wanted his 'family' dead.
He had imagined many different ways already, chaining them to their beds and watching them BURN was one of the most frequent. However, he was by no means foolish he was a five year old he didn't had enough strength to do all he wanted to punish them. Plus as much as he hated to admit it he couldn't take care of himself quite yet and didn't want something even worse happening to him if he went through with his dark thoughts.
So he bid his time training himself to have an utterly stoic mask at all times, sure there were times when he slipped but Harry was optimistic that soon he would have it absolutely perfect. He suppressed any emotion ruthlessly because in addition to it ruining his mask it also cause the secret thing to go completely out of his control.
Another year, another birthday gone by not that Harry really cared that much all that mattered was what he accomplished during that time. It had gotten worse, the abuse, before it had been just neglect locking him away in the cupboard under the stairs for months at a time.
Steadily as Harry had begun to understand the power within him, the power of his secret thing, the abuse had escalated. Vernon had taken to using a belt, he used rough rope that broke the skin at his wrist to tie him to the stair railing then the pain would come. A whoosh, CRACK and hiss as Harry clenched his teeth the skin on his back, shoulders, and chest spilt open bleeding.
Usually it would continue until Vernon, Petunia and Dudley were tired from whipping him. For his credit Harry never once cried out from pain, it wasn't long after this started that Harry stopped talking altogether only whispering to the shadows when he sure he was alone.
However these once a week beating just pushed him further to learn to use the power lying dormant inside him. The festering wounds on his back kept him awake at night, but that was okay with him he liked the dark more anyway using the time to study to use this power. Harry never learned of love in this house, not joy, not caring, not kindness, not any of the positive ones you would expect a child to learn to FEEL naturally.
No his lessons were of a much darker nature there in the cupboard under the stairs; he learned to HATE, to do anything to survive, he learned to lie, to use the shadows to hide but most of all he learned to never place your trust in anything of the human sort.
Harry stared blank eyed at the walls of his small prison curled up on his side to avoid putting any pressure on his still bleeding wounds. It had been six months since the beating started and Harry could not last much longer he had to leave, they would kill him soon he knew it.
Soon his eyes went from looking almost dead to having a crazy twinkle in his eyes, a hollow half insane smile broke across his normally stony face. Sitting up Harry gathered the raggedy scrap the Dursleys called a blanket he placed his Treasure in the middle of it along with his last water bottle and bread from his last night scavenge.
He ran his fingers along the door and heard the clunk, clunk, and clunk of the fallen padlocks before he silently opened the door. Cautiously he stepped out though the chorus of squealing snores told him they were asleep. He didn't know if he could do what he was thinking of (not sure he had the strength) but he didn't see a choice.
Harry grabbed his favorite kitchen knife before proceeding up the stairs to his tormentors' rooms; he would make sure they could never hurt him again. He went to Vernon's room first he hated them the most, his UNCLE Vernon and his AUNT petunia.
The door creaked a little bit but Harry wasn't worried their snores way to loud this close to hear anything. He wasn't sure it'd work but he used it to keep them from moving and keeping the sound inside. He HAS been practicing but it'd only last a little while he wasn't strong enough yet to hold them both very long.
Harry's hand trembled a little bit but eventually it steadied as he thought of the numerous scars that riddled his torso some cuts still fresh from the morning. He was rapt in his attention as he slit Vernon's throat deeply it reminded him of when he had to cut up ham for their breakfast.
He was already on the other side of the bed mimicking the cut to Petunia's throat before sputtering they opened their eyes as they drowned in their blood. Harry sat at the threshold of the door watching to make sure they died; it wouldn't do for them to survive.
Surprisingly Harry got little blood on him only on his hands nothing else was stained with their blood. He made quick work of Dudley one swipe and soon he was dead in a pool of his blood too. With them dead Harry breathed a sigh of relief knowing they couldn't hurt him ever again he let a small satisfied smile grace his stoic face.
He washed his hands of the blood first before rinsing the blade, and then he went to Vernon's room stealing all the money he could find and all of the prettier pieces of jewelry from his Aunt. He used one of Dudley's backpack to carry it all, his treasure, the money/jewelry, food, water and a thick soft blanket he had always admired.
He took one last lingering look at the house he had spent most of his life in letting the enormity of what he'd finally done sink in. He had WANTED them dead for a long time now that he had finally done it he let a smile grace his face for an instant before he walked out of the door to his new life.
He took a bus to London his uncanny ability to remain unnoticed helped him from being confronted with too many questions. Harry got off at some non descript park that had a few kids his age running around playing, laughing and generally doing what kids their age did under the watchful eyes of their parents.
No one noticed him throwing a kitchen knife wrapped in newspaper into a trash bin, no one noticed him in general as he sat down at one of the many squeaky swings. Harry stared at his hands he knew he had washed all the blood off but he could still feel it there wet and sticky staining his hands forever he imagined.
Clenching his hands he forced it out of his mind, gently he rocked himself on the swing his face indifferent as he watched the various child interact with their parents knowing he would never get that. Harry had long ago concluded that he didn't miss his parents and never would he had been to young when they died to remember them so he had put it behind him.
What he did envy was the affection that a good family gave each other but now he no longer even felt the pull of emotion to do that when he looked out across the playground. Harry just sunk into his thoughts about what he was going to do with himself now that he was free of the Dursley's tyranny.
It occurred to him that he didn't know if anyone even knew he had lived five years of his life with them because he had never been allowed out of the house besides doing yard work. He had spent most of his life in the cupboard in the shadows and out of sight when they had company.
However, he knew that someone had placed him in the Dursleys care and eventually that someone would remember him enough to ask questions. So his story was simple, the murder/mugger had came into the house killed them and had he had only escaped since he slept in the cupboard.
He would tell them should they ask that he had run out of the house after he had seen their bodies, scared, and gotten himself lost. Simple and hard to refute most would not question him because of his age (who wants to believe a six year old could kill?).
It was around noon when he noticed most of the children had gone and there was a man a few yards from him doing something interesting. He was a fat man, balding, clearly very old compared to him (round 60-70) he had a scraggly gray beard and worn old clothes.
He was sitting in a fairly comfortable looking chair and had various bags around him filled with different supplies. But what caught Harry's eye was the strange table looking thing that stood straight up and the old man was obviously was doing something with it.
Getting up he let his natural curiosity get the better of him and made his way over to him to investigate. He went around him coming up from behind he stared over his shoulder; the old man was painting the scene before him though Harry caught some details he had missed.
"You forgot the red wrapper in the corner by the slide." Harry said in a willowy voice drawing the man's attention. He smiled jollily at him and then proceeded to reach down into his various pacts pulling out a new looking sketchbook. He handed Harry it and a few charcoal pencils and replied, "Why don't you give it a shot."
Harry looked at him questionably then slowly took what he was handing him. He had been a bit suspicious at first because Vernon NEVER let him get anywhere near anything like this before he didn't really know what to with himself. So he studied the old man again and nervously he brought the pencil to the blank page.
At first he didn't know what to draw but after concentrating so long on the man before him he just started to just copy what he saw. Harry had always been an observant child noticing everything around him at all times, nothing was above his attention it came from his years of living with the Dursleys a survival instinct of sorts.
So Harry did what he did best observed everything about the man before him from the slight unnoticeable hunch on his right side to how his eyes shone slightly brighter every time he found something more to add to his painting. Harry concentrated solely on the man before him the background disappeared; there was just the man, the page and the pencil.
About two hours later he was finished on the page before him was an exact carbon copy of the man before him on the page down to the slightest wrinkle of his clothes. "I'm done." The old man looked at him with the same jolly smile and took the book from Harry's hands.
To say John was surprised would be an understatement he utterly rocked to his core about the picture the child before him had drawn. He had expected some stick figures and smudges but this was a masterpiece. It was him exactly, almost as if someone had take a black and white picture of him.
Harry was a bit nervous when the color drained from the man's face but was relieved when he managed to choke out, "…very good…". The old man then got excited all a sudden and turned to Harry with an odd twinkle in his eye. "Hey kid how 'bout we strike a deal I give you this sketchbook and some art supplies you give me this picture, signed of course! So how bout it kid we got a deal."
Shifting from side to side Harry couldn't see this as a trap of any kind so he silently too the book from him and signed HJP at the bottom. "Names John by the way." The ma, John said absently as he took the page from the book and proceeded to give Harry various paints, brushes, pencils and such.
Harry took everything that John had to give him and placed them carefully in the over large backpack he had (it was nearly as big as him). After he had bid goodbye to John, Harry went to the public lo that the park housed to clean the black coal stains off his hands.
The faint grumble of this stomach told Harry it was time to get some food only now noticing he hadn't eaten all day so used to being starved by his dead relatives. By the time he had gotten something to eat and found a nondescript spot in the park he could spend the night in he settled down for the night drawing until the sun went down.
He awoke to the sound of music playing. It was enchanting, Harry had never heard something so beautiful before Vernon had a very stale taste in music and he was never exposed to nothing else. Stepping from the bushes after he put away the blanket he searched for the origin of the music.
Eventually he found it, a little beyond the picnic tables was an orchestra with five different musicians playing various instruments. Harry just sat watching and listening to them play a burning desire to conquer each of their instruments blossomed within him at that moment. Harry wanted to play just as well…no BETTER then the musicians before him.
He spent the next few days at the park, drawing, listening to bands play and learning to read musical notes from a book he bought. Though it didn't really surprise him after two weeks of this that someone finally noticed that there was a child hanging around the park with no seeming parents.
So he wasn't shocked when a policeman woke him up some days later and took him to the orphanage that he was looking at now. Harry hadn't spoken a word just shook or nodded his head to answer question they had easily gotten that his parents were dead. Which lead them here the policeman was talking to the orphanage head and he was sitting quietly in the hall staring blankly around the run down dusty place.
It was obvious that this place needed more then the government was providing to keep it up, Harry vaguely let himself wonder back to listening in to what the two adults were saying.
"…obviously he's been on his own for a while judging from how starved he looks, not to mention his clothes!"
"How long you think he's been on his own?"
"At least a year…" he let his mind drift after that it was almost ironic that the Dursleys treatment of him ensured no one thought he had had a family for a long time. The truth of it was he had never had a family to begin with, Harry almost snorted when they finally realized they didn't even know his name.
"What is your name little boy?"
Harry waited a moment face indifferent then said slowly, "Tristen…Stillnight" then said nothing more no matter their prompting. He liked the irony of the name, besides a new life needs a new name.
The old lady took hold of his shoulder and started to steer him around the place showing him the school side, the cafeteria, and finally the side of the building that held the rooms. She left him here telling him to find a room to sleep in. Harry didn't like this hall that had many doors lined up it, it was too bright and open for his tastes.
The orphanage had been an boarding school at one time a long time ago, it was huge but lots of parts were unused and falling apart. The east wing was the school half with various classrooms filled with old equipment and crumbling desks. The main building was the greeting hall, offices and kitchen/cafeteria. The west wing was the sleeping quarters that had about five rooms on each floor.
The building itself was about eight stories tall, six of which were above ground two were below. The orphanage itself only used about a quarter of this actively not bothering to clean the rest. Before she had left him to his own devices the old lady had mentioned there were thirty odd kids here already and five more heads of staff beside herself.
None of this mattered much to Harry, he was on the top floor of the living quarters and it was to bright here for him, to lively and open. Years of living under the stairs had given him a penchant for the dark closed in spaces the open made him nervous it felt to exposed.
So he just keep going down the stairs as his dissent went deeper the floors got dustier and dustier until he came to the lowest level of the living quarter side of the orphanage.
The lairs of dust were thick and where kicked into the air no matter how lightly he stepped making him cough as he wondered down the hall. It was colder down here but it was secluded that much was obvious otherwise there wouldn't be that much dust. For all intensive purposes no one had been down here in years so it left free reign for Harry to do whatever he wanted.
Eventually he found a moderately small room at the end of the hall that he thought would suit him, there was a bed, and a small closet and a sturdy door that looked like it could take a beating. He couldn't sleep in a big room after years in the cupboard he'd wouldn't feel secure in an open space like that.
Harry shook most of the dust off the bed and the sheets before he sat down. He let his eyes wonder around what would be his new shelter for a while. He knew better than to call this place 'home' he wasn't some deluded little kid Harry knew that there was no such thing as Home.
It hit him as he sat there he was finally free, no one could take him back to the hellhole that had been the Dursleys he had KILLED them. They wouldn't ever be able to hurt him again he was FREE!!!! Before he knew what he was doing he was laughing crazily, hysterically laughing it echoed through the hall.
He kept laughing his eerie insane laugh, it was laugh that probably would have even the most harden solider shaking a little coming from such a small frail looking boy. When he found he couldn't laugh anymore he pulled what was left of the food from the backpack to eat.
He nibbled on some stale bread and looked through the jewelry that he'd stolen from Petunia, a locket, rings, and a golden key. Harry often wondered about the key he knew for certain that it didn't open anything at the Dursleys house it was too extravagant. But he just shrugged put the jewelry back into the jewelry box he stole and then hid it under the mattress.
It was getting late so he decided that he better get some sleep now so he could wake up early. When he woke up the next day he stayed there in his new room thinking. In his short life he had learned many, many things one thing always stuck with him and stayed in the forefront of his mind.
You can tear a person apart without ever touching them, words were far more dangerous than any weapon because you could heal a cut but emotional wounds stay for far longer. He had decided early on emotions were for the weak, and he had strove to rid himself of them.
But the problem with words was they stayed with you and your memory was like a knife it could hurt you. Vernon had said many things to him, Harry was worthless, undeserving, stupid, and slow, no one would ever care about him. It had hit him deep at first; sometimes he would cry himself to sleep because he believed him.
No one cared enough to think it strange that a six year old shouldn't be this thin when Dudley was roughly the size of a small baby whale. No one questioned his bruises or cuts; no one wondered about him why a six-year-old boy would be gardening. No one had ever cared for him and eventually he decided if no one cared for him then he would care for no one.
Harry knew better emotions were for the weak only the foolish and stupid felt things like love. Hate on the other hand was what drove him, hate made him strong it was hate not love that strove him to kill his tormentors and it would be hate that drove him now.
He knew he was special he was different from everyone he could make the impossible happen and it had saved him more then once. Harry knew he could do MAGIC, he could finally dare to approach the word in Vernon's house that would have gotten him hospitalized if they had bothered to take him.
Harry hardly ever spoke a word because words were very powerful he wasn't stupid enough to use them thoughtlessly. Hardly anyone really thought about what they were saying before it came out of their mouths, kids especially were idiots when it came to realizing their impact on one another.
THAT was why he was there sitting thinking, that was why he didn't want to step out of the room because once he did he would be faced with words coming from idiotic children. As much as he hated to admit it emotions were impossible to get rid of so words still cut him he had just gotten better at hiding it.
Harry feared even more what they would do what they could do to him, they wouldn't understand him they'd think him strange. When someone is strange people don't understand they are too stupid to and so they will strike at him just like Vernon. And as much as he hated to admit it he was physically weak, he could not stand up against someone bigger than him.
The first week was fine he was generally ignored him and Harry was perfectly fine with being ignored. However, it didn't last long Harry was quite good at blending in with the shadows but he caught the eye of someone he wish he hadn't. John Lester was a thirteen-year–old boy that was tall for his age, he was somewhat slow and had been at the orphanage since he was seven.
John was very tan, had dull brown eyes, greasy sandy blonde hair, crocked teeth, and a pug nose saying he was ugly would have been nice. In fact the only reason he wasn't fat was probably a mix between him being naturally very tall and the meager meals they got. Harry hadn't really cared that all that he had no friends but that just made him the perfect target for John and his cronies.
John got extreme pleasure in torturing Harry, from taints, to beatings to stealing his food anything to make Harry miserable. It got so bad that after only three weeks there Harry had taken to sneaking out to spend his days in the public library reading anything he could get his hands on.
Harry practiced his magic whenever he could when he wasn't reading, or learning how to do various things. Currently Harry was in the process of teaching himself French, Latin, and how to read sheet music. Now that he wasn't crammed into a small cupboard for hours on end he progressed exponentially, but that didn't help him with John Lester.
He got very good at running silently, knowing the escape routes the moment he entered a room and he NEVER let his guard down for a moment. Nevertheless John still caught him sometimes, beating him mercilessly when he did. The administrators couldn't care less by Harry's third month there it had become very clear he was abnormal, strange things always happened around him.
Harry even got his nickname back; one he thought he wouldn't hear anymore, F.R.E.A.K. They whispered it when he walked by, they yelled it at him when he refused to talk and they repeated it like a prayer when they beat him into the ground. He never said a word though, he took all of it in silence because that's all he knew how to do to take it work hard to better himself and never complain.
His time with the Dursleys had trained him well to be able to take all the abuse thrown at him yet again. One day John and his cronies caught him; it was a day that would change the course of his childhood forever. Harry had been at the orphanage for four months now and he knew how to get away most of the time.
But he didn't John caught him on one of the many abandoned wings of the orphanage, Harry expected a beating what he didn't expect was for John to tell Flick and Doyle to hold him down. Usually they backed him into a corner and all three torn into him this was new.
John told them to pin him on his stomach and to make sure Harry didn't move. When Harry heard the click of John's knife he started to thrash around it was the first time he had fought back but it wasn't enough. He hissed in pain when he felt John slice into his back.
"STOP…moving freak!" John said with his nasally voice, "almost done…". Tears leaked unbidden from Harry's eyes as John cut through his skin on his back just below his neck between his shoulder blades. "Hehe see that Doyle now everyone will know what he is, see F.R.E.A.K, FREAK!!! HAHA now no one will ever be fooled they'll always know what a freak you are!"
Harry didn't say a word when they got up, suddenly he saw red he was so angry he screamed he shot up from the floor and turned on them. The building shook and wind swirled around him. He wanted to HURT them wanted them to scream in pain and he felt within himself his magic stirring.
He laughed crazily latched onto the magic within him, dark, deep and angry he lashed out at them with it. Harry saw it strike the stunned boys and in the next moment they were screaming in pain. The three of them fell to the floor thrashing about, screaming, biting themselves and crying in pain.
Eventually the building stopped shaking and one of the staff found them. But Harry didn't stop torturing them laughing as their eyes cried tears of red blood. They died a few minutes later, skin piled from their bodies, eyes blown from their sockets and pooled in their own blood.
Harry had never thought to use his magic to fight back before and from then on he used it to do just that. No one could prove he had anything to do with the three deaths but they all knew it was him. Everyone was frightened of him now; whenever someone did anything he found offensive they suddenly fell to the floor in pain. They learned very quickly not to mess with him.
He turned seven quietly, Harry never celebrated his birthday before and he figured he never would. He stayed to the streets most of the time and became an exquisite crafty thief, he could rob a man blind and it wouldn't be noticed 'till hours later. Harry continued his studies determined that if he had to be lowest of the low right now he'd be the best.
He stole a violin from a music store and after only a week of practice he had the instrument master. Harry moved to piano after that, now that had been interesting to steal and slightly complicated. He was never arrogant because he was convinced it made you blind; in fact he was almost certain he could always do better it was never enough.
Harry wanted more out of life, more knowledge more power, just more he needed to be the best because that was all he had. After a particularly bad beating (outside of the orphanage) Harry decided it was time to learn to fight back physically as well as magically.
So he put forth some of his savings from his various thief's to get a personal tutor in a dojo, and as with everything he studied mercilessly. In all he was only getting an average of five to four hours of sleep a night from studying: art, etiquette, science, math, magic, music, philosophy, dance (any great fight can dance gracefully), martial arts, and poisons. That was all on his free time when he wasn't stealing various things.
Anything that interesting even the slightest he had to be the best at, it didn't matter if it was as simple as being able to have a highly sophistical conversation, table manners or being able to play so beautifully that it put Mozart to shame. Four months after he turned seven another significant event happened, a girl came to the orphanage.
Most of the time he didn't care at all about the coming and goings of new orphans but Suzie was different, she was two years younger than him and had lost her parents to a car crash. That was not what made her interesting to Harry, he felt it, magic coming from her and that was enough to gain his undivided attention.
She was a strange one, shy and weird things always happened around her the other signaled her out immediately. Harry didn't know what it was that made him approach Suzie when she came he really didn't care if they tried to beat to 'abnormalities' out of the five-year old but something pulled at him.
Harry finally decided that since she was magical that made her special like him and the unique deserved his albeit begrudging protection because who knew when he'd need certain allies. He waited a week for the thing he knew was going to happen to occur, they cornered her in the living quarter side of the orphanage and were about to tear into her when he stepped in.
He never spoke, not ever so when his chilling voice was heard for the first time they four bullies froze in their tracks from sheer terror. "Leave." Harry commanded simple clean and said a million different things with one word: she's under my protection if anyone hurts her they will die/disappear painfully was one of the many things they got from that one word.
From then on Suzie followed him like a puppy, chattering away knowing he wouldn't ever say anything back and after a month she had integrated herself in his life. She even had taken to calling him 'big brother' and holding his sleeve wherever they walked.
Because Harry had his own "income" it was very noticeable that the two of them were much better off then the others, their cloths were of great quality and new. Suzie didn't want for much and she never was miserably hungry like the others because of small meals. It became incredibly obvious that Harry took very good care of himself and her somehow so much so that even they were terrified of him they kissed up to him extensively hoping to gain his favor.
No one ever did, only Suzie with her big innocent golden brown eyes and warm chestnut red hued hair ever got attention from Harry positively. He didn't take her on his pick pocketing expeditions and left her with a daycare (that he paid for) for some unknown reason he wanted to keep her innocent childhood as intact as he could.
She studied with him whatever interested her (mostly cooking, and gardening) and Harry taught her to read/write. Suzie sleep with him in his room because she was afraid to sleep alone Harry didn't mind as long as she kept to her side. Harry still never talked much but when he did they were alone in their room.
Suzie loved his voice when he spoke, it was soft, elegant and made her feel incredibly special she was the only one who had heard his voice like that. Harry spoke sometimes when it was necessary in public but his voice was always only cold and had a sharp edge to it.
Harry could be terribly charming when he wanted she knew it, he had literally talked her way into a daycare/preschool without a parent to consent. Every one of her teachers adored him and said he was utterly well mannered for such a small boy. Sometimes when she did really well with her studies and exceeded better then expected Harry would play for her those were the times when she felt wholly rewarded. There was nothing more beautiful then to hear her 'big brother' play and she was undeniably proud that she was the only one so far that had ever heard him.
Most of the time Harry wasn't completely sure why he was so kind to the girl however he admitted that she was the only one he had ever met that was as special as him Suzie deserved special treatment. Harry still continued his studies on his own when she slept tirelessly self-teaching himself magic.
On night Harry was sitting there in his thoughts when it occurred to him that not once had he ever thanked his magic, he knew enough of magic and etiquette to know magic had a 'mind' of its own. Magic had blessed/cursed him with itself and he had yet to thank it for doing so. Harry turned inward in meditation like he had been taught in his martial arts training he sought out his magical core just like every time he performed magic on purpose.
When he found himself there immersed in to floating in the endless green that was his magic he said quietly but forcefully "Thank you" in a soft elegant voice. The reaction came immediately; magic surrounded him, not just what he associated as 'his' either.
It wrapped around him filling him up he couldn't breathe so he couldn't scream it attached itself to every part of him, his blood, his body, soul, magical core and mind was immersed in it. Then as quickly as the sensation had come it was gone, leaving him breathless and feeling very strange.
Harry knew that he had just been given something very rare a gift, he could literally feel the magic running through his veins, his senses were on high, his mind was much more organized and sharper which was saying something he had been intelligent to begin with.
He had read about the effects of drugs on the human body and he felt for certain that this felt like he was high it was wonderful but only lasted a moment. Suddenly he understood magic in a way he had never before, magic wasn't just a tool to be used at his whim it was a partner; a companion and it lifted him above the rest.
Magic had a mind and a will of its own he could work magic before because it had allowed itself to be used. Magic loved having a purpose, being announced, and having a conduit to do the things it could. Magic had rewarded him by sharing itself fully with him because he had earned that right by acknowledging Magic as something more then just something to be used in convenience, Harry had thanked it so this was a your welcome.
Surprisingly everyone took advantage of the fact Magic allows itself to be used never once thanking it for all that it does, vaguely he felt gratitude. That was another thing Magic didn't really have clear thoughts in the way say a human or animal would think it was more of an emotion or impression that he got from it that got it's message across.
To magic there was no distinction between "good" or "evil" there was only things one can do and things one cannot do. Magic could do anything nothing as impossible with it. To magic it didn't matter if its dark or light element was used just as long as it was utilized.
The next few months were interesting to say the least Harry learned at a faster rate then before so much so he had extra time during the day so he could start to teach Suzie French, which he was fluent in now (as well as Latin, he was starting Italian next). He let his birthday pass like any other day though he did tell Suzie and a simple "Happy Birthday Big Brother" and Harry turned eight without much fuss.
Magic came much easier to him now and he enjoyed learning what he could do with it because although he had been gifted with an obscene amount of power he still had to learn how to use it on his own. Magic hated giving things to people who didn't earn the right to have it which was why most couldn't perform magic like him at least that's the impression he'd gotten.
He already learned how to change things in his room so that he could fit his piano and various other things comfortably while also accommodating Suzie. His bed was much more comfortable now that he did not have to forced into touching Suzie, he wasn't one for letting people touch him.
Harry was looking for his next in downtown London when he felt the most curious thing, Magic and lots of it. He followed it until he was standing in front of a shop called the Leaky Cauldron where he saw various people with magic coming and going. It had been two years since he had left the Dursleys and his appearance had changed a lot. Though he was still small and slim, skin pale as ever though it had a healthy glow to it now.
He had let his wild pitch black hair grow out so now it pooled down to just below his shoulders straight and flaring out (this way it covered the scar on his back proclaiming him a freak). He had let his bangs grow to frame his face they swooped from the tip of his nose to his jaw line effectively covering his scar. Harry's eyes were as green as ever though luminous and slightly slitted since the incident with his magic not that he minded his vision was beyond perfect now.
In all Harry was a very beautiful child, but he was a skilled thief he could be walking next to you and you'd never hear him there. Most of the time he wore long sleeved bottom formal shirts (usually dark green) and a black pullover vest with khaki pants and nice shoes. In other words he looked the furthest thing from a streetwise pickpocket, he saw no reason why he couldn't go in to pick up any information he could on magic.
Unnoticed he slipped into the pub taking to the shadows he never drew attention to himself that was a number one rule for a thief. With practiced ease his fingers slipped nimbly into money pouches that these magical folk carried around listening to everyone for even a scrap of useful information.
Three hours later his patience had bared fruit, his multiple hidden pockets were nearly bursting with all the money he'd nicked and he'd learned a few disturbing things. It appeared he was rather famous in this world, it greatly disturbed him as he had listened to hushed conversations about the "Boy-Who-Lived".
All these people thought they knew him the audacity! They thought him some great savior from heaven to serve their needs, to defeat their enemies!! The strife of this world or any other was none of his concern he refused to be some servant again no never was he going to a servant they would serve HIM!
The Dursleys thought him some slave someone beneath them, these (he sneered) wizards thought him some sort of servant/weapon to rid the world of those they deemed 'evil'. No he refused to be their TOOL and like one of his favorite authors John Milton had said it was far better to reign in hell then serve in heaven!
Harry wasn't exactly angry, he hadn't felt real emotions in a long while but he was offended at these people for assuming things of him. His eyes glowed predator like in their intensity as he gazed at the people around the pub until it landed on an obviously wealthy man walking up the stairs and decided to follow him.
He was rapt in his curiosity when he tapped the wall with a stick/wand opening it to a most amazing sight, and this was his first glimpse to the new world he'd stumbled onto. After nicking quiet a few coins from the arrogant man Harry wandered off to explore this world of magic.
He found a bookshop quickly enough and began to look immediately at the different tomes. A few he was content to learn about later or discover on his own but potions kept his attention. He bought five thick books right off the bat about it and decided he would come back later for more, another day perhaps.
After reading just a few pages of the Potions for Beginners book he found himself in need of a cauldron and various other items/ingredients, so he set out to get them. Nicking from unsuspecting people passing by replenishing his depleted money supply after purchasing the books.
Eventually he came to shop that had everything he needed and plenty of ingredients some he bought others he lifted expertly. He even bought a special bag that he could put everything he bought in it (books included) and still stay as small as his fist, no one really questioned him he had money what else did they care about.
Harry found himself at an ice cream shop of some sort after that just observing the wizards interact listening for any interesting information. An hour later he wasn't disappointed a family had come into the shop, a small redheaded boy, a pretty woman with identical hair and prettier green eyes, lastly a man with black hair glasses and a cocky grin.
It only took a moment for the whispers to break out and what he heard had his fist tightening around his drink until his knuckles turned white. There standing before him was his parents Lily and James Potter along with their son Clark. It was then and there that he felt emotion for the first time in a long time something he hadn't thought he'd feel again since he killed the Dursleys in their bed pure unadulterated hate.
He glanced at his wrist watch hissing through his teeth it was three he would need to leave now to pick her up on time and as much as he wanted nothing more then to listen to their screams he stood leaving with grace. Icily he said to himself as he got on the bus that would take him to the daycare "Another time, vengeance can wait."
Suzie was ecstatic to see him standing their waiting, as always latching onto his sleeve and chattering about like a good little puppy. An idea was forming in Harry's mind and slowly creeping its way through everything capturing his attention after a moment of contemplation after they reached his room.
"It is better to reign in hell then serve in heaven," repeated itself, over and over in his thoughts sparking something within him.
A.N.: this is my first Harry Potter Fic! Hope you guys like it and as always, good criticism is noted, reviews appreciated. The more reviews a story gets the more motivated I become to update! P please if you don't have anything useful to suggest in your negative reviews don't post its just mean to do it for the sake of saying something horrible! Sorry about the cliffy next chap will go up when a see the story getting enough positive attention! No point otherwise right? Lol Merci!!