Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Supernatural.

A/N: Oh, my god. You guys have NO idea how excited I am to be releasing this story. I'm basically a newcomer to Supernatural, and am only just now nearing the end of season 1. However, I've been reading the crossovers and as a result spoiled myself to hell on a lot of things. Hopefully my newness doesn't hurt anything.

Warnings: This story is rated M for a reason, mostly for future slash and how I screw around with religion. If any of these things offend you, I'm sorry but this story isn't for you.

Now then, I have big plans for this story but it will be a while before the plot finally gets rolling! Also, I'm kind of on the fence on the pairing, but right now I'm toying around with Sam/Harry/Dean. I'm a little squicky about incest, but I honestly want BOTH brothers to be with Harry! Oh well... only time will tell.

This chapter has been beta'd by StarAngel Caelum SunSoar! Lots of love to them~!

I hope you all like this chapter and don't be afraid to leave a review telling me what you think!


Harry always had an affinity with darkness, but he had never thought anything of it. As a child, in the pitch-blackness of the cupboard under the stairs, darkness was his only companion for days at a time, and Harry naturally grew to love it.

When in the darkness he was invisible—his whale of an uncle left him alone and his giraffe-necked aunt seemed so far away. In the darkness, Dudley and his gang couldn't find and hurt him. And when he came to the wizarding world, in the darkness, he was just Harry.

Even so, Harry had never expected this.

"Excuse me," Harry said, shaking his head in confusion, "but what?"

Harry was in a dream world at the deserted King Cross Station. Behind him stood Dumbledore, his expression a look of horror; off to a corner under a bench was the pitiful fragment of Voldemort's soul; before him was the man spouting nonsense—the self proclaimed "King of Dae".

The "King" was an otherworldly being hard to describe in words. He was over seven feet tall and his skin was a deep earthy color that seemed to exude a multicolored vapor. He was naked, but there was nothing that gave him a definite gender. Still, Harry could say they were male by the sound of the voice: a deep guttural noise that was both frightening and soothing. The man's eyes were pure black, but they shined with a light that was wholly unnatural, and perched atop his head were two small horns that curved slightly. All in all, the man looked like some sort of devil . . . or demon. The thought had Harry instantly alert.

Harry and Dumbledore had been talking about what had just happened when Harry was 'killed', and then from deep within the mist they began to hear footsteps. Harry had looked to Dumbledore in confusion, but the wizened old wizard appeared just as confused as Harry was.

From within the mist, Harry could make out a tall figure. When they spoke, there was no beating around the bush. His words were deep and to the point.

"Greetings. I am the King of Dae, Daekin," the person said, stepping out of the mist, allowing Harry and Dumbledore their first look of the man—or rather, creature. At first glance it was clear that they were not human.

Harry eyed the new arrival critically. Dumbledore released a startled breath, causing Harry's stare to zero in on him instantly.

Dumbledore was shaking, his lower lip trembling so badly that it sent a ripple down his beard. Weakly, Dumbledore repeated, "K-King of… Dae…"

"Professor? What's wrong?" Harry asked in hesitation. The only other time he had seen Dumbledore behaving like this was when he had drank that ghastly potion in his sixth year. Simply remembering it brought about a hollow feeling in Harry's stomach.

"Harry Potter," the man-creature-thing said, drawing Harry's attention. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you face to face."

Harry remained quiet, again on high alert. From the way the headmaster was reacting, there was no way this man could be any good.

"I wish I could say the same," Harry muttered.

The things pitch-black lips twitched upward slightly.

Finally gaining his composer, Dumbledore took a bold step forward, half-hiding Harry from the creature's sights. The black eyes snapped toward him, causing the old wizard to once more shiver visibly.

"Daekin," Dumbledore whispered thinly, although there was a hint of power in his voice, "what are you doing here? This . . . this cannot be. You were killed eons ago!"

This time, the things—Daekin's—lips bloomed into a full smile. "That is correct. I gave my life to punish the ones who sought to destroy me. To this day they still suffer for their crimes, but I? I have finally been reborn."

Daekin's eyes slid to Harry as he finished speaking, and Dumbledore's did as well. Watching the two interact with narrowed eyes, Harry noticed instantly when the headmaster's eyes flashed with understanding. As quickly as it came, all light seemed to leave the old wizard's eyes and he crumbled to his knees weakly, appearing to be just a feeble old man.

Harry was at his side swiftly, calling Dumbledore's name futilely. The old man just continued to stare ahead blankly, not moving.

"What did you do to him?" Harry snarled, turning his heated stare to Daekin.

The man-creature was staring at Dumbledore in pity. "I have done nothing. He has simply realized the enormity of the destiny you hold, and his feeble old mind cannot take it."

"Don't talk about him like that," Harry growled, standing to his feet angrily. Daekin was staring at him once again, and it took all of Harry's willpower not to flinch.

"You still do not understand," Daekin said sadly. "You have not embraced the link you have with Darkness."

"My link with darkness?" Harry eyed the softly whimpering baby out of the corner of his eye.

"I do not mean Voldemort," Daekin said with a dismissive wave of a clawed hand. "I mean the very essence of Darkness itself. You have walked the path of Light up till now, but in doing so, you have forsaken Darkness. Without Darkness there cannot be Light, and you Harry Potter . . . are Darkness."

Harry grimaced bitterly, not understanding anything that was coming out of the other's mouth. Harry was Darkness? He walked the path of Light? Okay, maybe that part Harry could understand, but the rest made no sense.

"I'm not a dark wizard, nor do I ever plan to be if that's what you're getting at."

A look of frustration rose to Daekin's face. His eyes were trained fully on Dumbledore who had started to shake lightly, still staring ahead.

"The headmaster has . . . changed you. He has turned you away from your natural path in life."

Growling, Harry took a purposeful step forward. "I'll admit that maybe Dumbledore manipulated a little too much of my life, but it was for the greater good!"

Daekin froze unnaturally, and even Harry stilled when he heard what had come out of his own mouth. It was for . . . the greater good? Bloody hell, when had he become Dumbledore? In his fear of becoming too much like Voldemort, had he instead strived to become like Dumbledore instead?

"Harry, you cannot walk the path of Light."

That snapped Harry from his daze. While he didn't want to be a clone of Dumbledore, that didn't mean he was going to become the next Dark Lord either.

"And why the bloody hell not?"

"Because," Daekin growled, "you are the new King of Dae!"

Harry paused, a look of confusion settling across his face once more. "What? Didn't you say you were the King of Days or whatever?"

Daekin nodded, but didn't elaborate. Huffing, Harry demanded angrily, "So how the hell am I the king?"

A sad look settled onto the man's demon-like face. "Harry . . . you and I are one and the same. You are my reincarnation."

"W-What?" Harry choked, stumbling back and almost falling over Dumbledore who moaned pitifully. "I'm your . . .? . . .Huh? What?"

Even though Harry didn't want to believe it, something inside of him that he couldn't put his finger on knew it to be true. It resonated with Daekin – humming in familiarity. Still, that did nothing for Harry's brain which rejected the idea vehemently.

Whatever Daekin was, he was obviously dark, and for Harry to be his reincarnation . . . That was just something that Harry couldn't allow.

"That's . . . that's a lie," Harry stammered.

"Listen to your soul," Daekin suggested gently. "It is the same soul that I possess. I would never lie to you, to myself. You are my reincarnation, and thus, you are the new King of Dae."

"Y-You're not me," Harry again denied, latching onto what Daekin said desperately. "You look nothing like me! You're not even human!"

Daekin inclined his head. "Though we share different bodies of flesh, the thing that matters most—our souls—are one and the same."

Still seeing Harry's reluctance to accept what he said, Daekin asked, "What is it that so repels you from the idea of sharing my soul? Is it because I am not human? Is it because you know nothing of me? Is it because I am Dark?"

Daekin almost hissed the word 'dark', and as expected, Harry winced violently.

"I see," Daekin said simply. "Dumbledore has conditioned you against all things not of the Light. But search inside yourself, Harry. Remember. When has the Dark ever harmed you?"

"Voldemort," Harry snapped immediately.

Once more, Daekin waved his had dismissively. "Tom Riddle is naught but one man, and from birth, the son of man is a being of the Light."

Frowning, Harry thought hard. When else had something dark tried to hurt him . . .? A certain time in his third year leaped to the forefront of his mind and Harry pounced onto it.

"Third year! Dementors! They attacked me! How do you explain that?"

"Ah, that." Daekin shook his head. "They were merely trying to help you in the only way they knew how."

Harry gaped at the audacity of the man who had the nerve to say that Dementors wanted to help him. That was like saying Voldemort just wanted world peace. It didn't make any sense!

"Help me?" Harry asked incredulously, his temper rising fast. "Help me? Oh, because it would be so helpful if I didn't have a soul! What's that, Dementor? You want to kiss my godfather? Well go right the bloody hell on!"

Daekin merely watched impassively as Harry fumed. By the end of his tirade, Harry's shoulders were shaking and his breaths were leaving him in short gasps.

"Did the Dementors know Sirius Black was innocent? Did they know that he would not harm you?"

The question gave Harry pause, but it didn't explain the rest of the times he was attacked.

"I will admit, the Dementors aren't the . . . smartest bunch." Daekin gave a small smile when Harry snorted. "However, I do truly believe they wished to help you in the only way they knew—by extracting the soul of Tom Riddle which they felt inside of you."

Once more, Harry didn't know how to respond. Could that . . . could that really be possible? It would explain the twisted love they seemed to have for him, and explain why he got nearly kissed more than anyone at Hogwarts combined.

"Alright," Harry allowed eventually. "That could be possible. But what about the giant spiders in the forbidden forest? They could talk, and they even admitted they wanted me to stay for dinner if you know what I mean."

"Insect," Daekin said simply. At Harry's confused look, he elaborated, "Creature of Light."

Harry cursed violently. He was developing a bit of a potty mouth, but everything Daekin was telling him was shifting everything he knew on its very axis. If Daekin was to be believed, everything wrong in his life was done by beings of the light side!

And then his mind flashed to Lupin. He was technically a creature of the dark, but he was one of the closest things Harry had to a family. Then there was what the hat had said to him in first year. He would do well in Slytherin—but because of all the horrid things he had heard said about dark wizards, he had wished vehemently to not be placed there.

As if a floodgate had been opened, Harry remembered back when he was just a child and he had gone on a rare shopping trip with his Aunt Petunia. In a small outlet mall, a man with eyes that flashed gold had suddenly bowed and whispered, "My liege."

Aunt Petunia had hurriedly dragged him away once she saw him, but thinking back on it, Harry knew instantly what that golden-eyed man was: a vampire.

Other such instances that Harry had merely brushed off as people being weird occurred to him—and bloody hell! Fenrir Greyback! During the battle for Hogwarts, Harry had run into Greyback, but the werewolf had simply pressed his forehead into the ground before running off.

Harry didn't know what it meant at the time, but now he did. Greyback had recognized whatever it was that was inside Harry . . . so he hadn't attacked.

This time, when Harry stumbled back, he tripped over Dumbledore's robes and landed on his arse, painfully. He was staring in Daekin's general direction, but he didn't see him. He was still trying to free himself of the shock that was slowly consuming him.

He literally gasped out loud when Dumbledore suddenly jumped to his feet. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes in determination, his wand pointed toward Daekin.

Daekin eyed Dumbledore's wand pointedly. "What do you plan on doing with that, son of man?"

Dumbledore winced and his wand shook. "I cannot—no; I will not allow you to have Harry!"

"Shouldn't it be I who says those words?" Daekin asked breezily. "Was it not you who manipulated Harry's life in such a way so that he would always follow the Light? And now that you know he is the King of Dae, you still seek to have him walk a path he does not belong to?"

The more Daekin spoke, the more Dumbledore shook. Finally, his wand fell from his limp hand, but he continued to hold his arm forward as if he had not noticed. "The people need a savior—someone to look up to. Harry—"

"Is not God!" Daekin shouted, losing his temper for the first time. "If the children of man should turn to someone, it should be God, not Harry—the new King of Dae. Even if Harry were a mere mortal like the rest of you, it is not your place to dictate things in such a way."

Having been listening to the conversation from where he sat, Harry found himself growing more and more indignant. "And it's yours?" Harry jumped in, finally losing his patience as well.

Daekin turned to Harry in question as Harry stood to his feet.

"You said it's not his place to dictate people's lives, but aren't you the same? You keep telling me I'm the King of Dae, but what is that? Who are you? Are you God?" By the end of his speech, Harry was once again shouting, frustrated that his life was once more spiraling out of his control.

"No," Daekin said. "I am not God. I am his brother."

Harry's blood froze in his veins.

"What?" he managed to choke out. He looked to Dumbledore, but the man wouldn't meet his gaze. "You're God's brother? D-Don't mess with me . . ."

He tried to play it off as if he was being joked with, but the atmosphere was far from playful.

"I would not lie about something so serious," Daekin frowned.

"N-No way . . . First I'm the bloody Boy-Who-Lived . . . and now . . . now I'm the Reincarnation-Of-God's-Brother!"

Daekin chuckled and it became a full laughter when Harry glared at him.

"This isn't funny," Harry sulked.

"You are right," Daekin agreed, calming down. "I am sorry."

Harry snorted. God's freaking brother—it would take a while for Harry's brain to wrap itself around that—looked far from sorry.

Sighing, Harry stared off into the distant fog wondering what all of this meant. He had never been very religious, and when he was introduced to the wizarding world, all of the mysterious of life were easily answered.

Where did life come from? Magic.

What created the universe, the moon, and the stars? Magic.

Why was Dudley able to become so fat without simply exploding? Magic.

There was just no need to believe in something like God when the answer to even the most difficult questions could be answered with just 'magic'. But to find out that God was real . . . and that he was the reincarnation of God's brother . . . It was all Harry could do not to have his brain shut down.

But . . . there was one thing Harry couldn't understand. You heard of God everywhere, yet not once had Harry ever heard of God having a brother.

"How come I've never heard of you?" Harry asked, peering at Daekin curiously.

"That is because you were raised as a being of Light. God is the protector of all things Light, so it is only natural that the children of man would worship only Him. I, however, am the King of Dae—the protector of all things Dark."

Harry's eyes were wide as saucers by the end of Daekin's explanation. "So you're the God of things like vampires and werewolves?"

Daekin nodded, appearing pleased that Harry was finally starting to understand.

"Unbelievable," Harry breathed in awe before once more it was wiped from his face. "Wait . . . if you are the God of Darkness . . . and I'm your reincarnation, making me the King of Dae, that means . . . that means . . . "

"Yes, Harry, you are now the protector of Darkness."

"Me?" Harry squeaked. "Why? I mean, why me?"

"I have been waiting thousands of years for the one who would be worthy of continuing as the King of Dae . . . and you were chosen."

Harry felt light headed. If even one more shock was dropped on him, he swore he would faint. It had already been an eventful evening: he found out he was a Horcrux, he died, he met God's brother, he found out he was the reincarnation of said brother, and then he learned he was practically the God of Darkness.

It was a lot for one person to handle.

Once more a question rose to Harry's mind, and he wouldn't be able to fully accept this unless he rid himself of all his doubts.

"You're not . . . the devil are you?"

"No," Daekin said, a hint of a growl lacing his words. "The being that you constantly refer to as 'the devil' or 'Satan' is actually named Lucifer. As most seem to forget, he was an archangel—Light creatures created by my brother. He was the one who sought to dethrone me . . . and he was punished adequately for his transgressions."

Again, Harry's eyes were the size of dinner plates. It was so convenient to have an actual deity available to answer all of your religious questions.

Dumbledore was oddly quiet, and Harry's gaze swiveled over to him. The old headmaster was once more sitting on the ground; his head slumped in defeat.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry called hesitantly.

The old man met his eyes warily, the usual twinkle having faded from them long ago. "Yes, my boy?"

"I—Headmaster, I . . ."

"It's quite alright," Dumbledore sighed, running a hand through his long beard. "You cannot change who you are . . . and you are the new King of Dae."

To have even Dumbledore acknowledge it was what truly brought it home for Harry, and a full bodied shiver ran through him. Him . . .? The new King of Dae. It was unimaginable. After all his talk of wanting to be 'Just Harry', he was given an even higher status than the Boy-Who-Lived.

He had gone from being revered as a god to actually becoming one. The irony was as laughable as it was painful.

"So . . . so what now?" Harry questioned weakly, turning to Daekin for answers. "I don't—I don't feel any different from how I've always felt."

"That is because our souls are only partially linked," Daekin explained. "Our souls were to fuse slowly over the course of your lifetime, and my powers and knowledge would be imparted unto you along with it. However, when you were naught but a small child, a tainted fragment of Tom Riddle's soul was added to ours, so I have spent the last decade keeping his soul from having any contact with ours."

Harry's eyes once more landed on the monstrosity of a baby off to the side of the station. "And now that he's out of the way . . .?"

"Our souls can finally become one."

Harry jerked unconsciously, wary of the idea of 'joining' with Daekin. "You said I would have gotten your knowledge . . . Will I still be myself?"

"Of course," Daekin said, smiling comfortingly. "Only my knowledge will be passed on to you, as if you had simply memorized a book. Naturally, you will also gain certain powers that are essential for you to have as my successor."

"O-okay," Harry breathed, nodding jerkily.

A line from the prophecy floated through Harry's head: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . .

A hysterical laugh bubbled in his throat, but he crushed it down ruthlessly.

"Harry," Dumbledore called sadly, "are you sure you want to go through with this? You can still turn back."

One look at Daekin told him that 'turning back' would not be an option, and even if it was, Harry didn't think he could accept it. He knew it in his soul. This was his destiny.

Giving Dumbledore a Gryffindor smile, he took a step closer to Daekin. At that distance, he was able to faintly catch the other's scent. It was purely wild and untamed, something dark. A sardonic grin plastered itself onto Harry's face at the thought.

"I think I'm ready."

Daekin eyes him critically.

"Before we begin, I will give a final warning. Because of Tom Riddle's soul fragment, I was not able to merge my soul with yours gradually. As such, our mostly disconnected souls will become one instantaneously, causing you great pain."

Drawing in a deep breath and closing his eyes, Harry gathered all the courage he had. When he opened them, Daekin was staring back at him in what might have been concern. Grinning, Harry declared, "I can handle it."

A flash of a smile lighted Daekin's face before he nodded. "Very well. Simply place your palms against mine and I shall begin."

Daekin's bent his arms at the elbow, his palms level with his chest. Harry stared at the weirdly colored palms before hesitantly placing his hands against them.

As soon as he did, there was a feeling of something latching onto something inside of him. With a jolt, Harry realized that it was the link tying his soul to Daekin's. Instead of frightening him, the link actually calmed him, helped him relax. It felt almost like pressing your palms against a mirror.

He finally understood. He and Daekin were indeed one and the same.

And then, the pain started.

Harry's eyes screwed shut and his mouth hung open as unimaginable pain racked his body. He had thought that he knew pain when he felt the Cruciatus curse, but what he was feeling now was so much worse. Cruciatus hurt him in the physical sense, but what he was going through now felt as if his very being was being torn to shreds at an agonizingly slow pace.

No matter how much Harry pushed or pulled, he couldn't free his hands from Daekin's. His vision was beginning to darken and his throat was becoming sore from screams he hadn't even known he'd been releasing.

Just when Harry thought that he'd taken all he could take . . . that if the pain spiked even another notch, he'd literally die . . .

It did.

The pain became even worse, so intense that tears flowed from Harry's eyes without restraint. If he were able, he'd be thrashing about on the floor, banging his own head against anything solid in the hope that he would knock himself unconscious.

But no matter how high the pain spiked, no matter how far passed his threshold for pain they'd gone, Harry remained perfectly conscious.

And then the memories began to flood into him. Flashes of conversations that Harry had never had began assaulting his brain; places he'd never visited he could now give directions to perfectly; and things he'd never even imagined in his worst nightmares—he knew they were real, and that he was possibly the only thing holding them back from unparalleled bloodshed.

Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and blood trickled slowly down his nose.

Finally—blessedly, Daekin disconnected their hands and Harry slumped to the floor, unconscious.