Summary: Harry James Potter-Black is a ruthlessly Dark wizard, only without the whole evil thing going on. After the conclusion of the Second Wizarding War he leaves Magical Britain behind and travels, learning things that would make Hermione have an aneurism. Finally deciding to mess with the very fabric of the universe he sends himself back into his younger body to wreak havoc and make sure that all the crap that happened 'last time' doesn't happen again.

Follow Harry as he makes a name for himself, gets himself a girl and then some girl troubles, and leads a life as his own man.

Categories: Super!Harry, time-travel, Dark!NotEvil!Harry, Senile!Dumbles
Genres: Adult, Adventure, AU, Crossover, Romance
Pairings: Harry/OC/Hermione/Tonks/Undisclosed!Vamp (as a slave)
Warnings: Adult Themes

Challenge: OdinMage's (Dark Harry Time Travel) Challenge #1

Summary: -

Dark Lord Harry, several years after having killed Voldemort, goes back in time to some unspecified time between his 5th and 14th birthdays (the number 9 being powerful, and the extent of the spells variance). Once there, he relives his life from that point, continuing down his dark path.

Terms: -

Must haves:
1) Harry must have followers AND some sort of mark or glyph, though it doesn't have to be a tattoo (ie. it can be a ring, pendant, brand, tattoo, anything). Accepted: Ring

2) Harry must, at some point, kill Ginny. A bonus if he wipes out the whole Weasley clan. Accepted

3) The story can be any straight ship, single, multi- or harem, but there must be one girl that is his slave. Not someone he loves or cares about, but someone who he keeps just to humiliate and degrade and use. Harem: Hermione, Tonks, OC, Undisclosed!Vamp

4) He will be very strong magically, and more knowledgable than in cannon, but only to the extent that he has learned more since cannon, not that he suddenly had the knowledge of all the Wizengamot laws downloaded into his head (though he CAN have Voldemorts knowledge; maybe that is where some of his stronger magic came from, killing Voldemort involved sucking his mind and magic from his body and letting it and his soul die). Voldemort's knowledge absorbed, as well as several other horcruxes.

5) Rituals! Whether things he did before going back or things he waited to do until he goes back; maybe some rituals work better (or only work) on a child, and not an adult? (ie. things to enhance speed, strength, stamina, maybe enhance cognitive ability). Accepted: vaguely alluded to in regards Harry; rituals his girls go through will be described more.

Must NOT haves:
1) NO SLASH. Duh.

2) No shopping spree for a trunk with 7 giant rooms and a built in time-turner; that said, he CAN bring things back with him IF the method of time travel brings his physical body back to that point in the past (ie. if it is just his soul or soul and magic that go back, he can't bring anything, but if he goes back physically, even something as easy as a super-time-turner, and then uses a spell to merge his future self into his younger body, he can). Accepted.

3) If the story isn't going to include the crap that was book 6, then Dumbledore still has to have died somehow in the war against Voldemort (ie. Voldemort or a Death Eater killed him, NOT Harry) but Harry can kill him in the new timeline. Accepted.

4) If Harry goes back to before Hogwarts, he CANNOT be sorted into Slytherin. Any other house is fine, but my thinking is that by that point he would be far too 'slytherin' to let himself get labled as one. Well whoops... too late, so NOT accepted.

5) No friendships with Draco or Snape. They can become his followers, but NOT friends. Easily done: Accepted.

Harry James Potter-Black was not a very happy man, and so far as he could remember he never had been. Oh there were several occasions he could remember being contented and smug, but happy was almost a foreign term to him. The Dursleys had beat 'happy' out of him quite thoroughly as a child, and his years at Hogwarts hadn't been much better. First year was composed of a rather stupid white-haired idiot deciding that tempting Voldemort with the Philosopher's Stone was a good idea for a test; second was a Basilisk and a horcrux that, once again, a certain white-haired idiot thought was a good idea to let continue on; third was rather mundane in comparison, but Harry had still had to face a werewolf and swarms of Dementors. Fourth year was the blasted Triwizard Tournament, and fifth consisted of Harry eventually ending up facing the Dark Wanker himself after his godfather had been hurled through the veil.

And then that damned prophesy.

Oh, just thinking about how Dumbledore had thrown that on him mere minutes after having his godfather die before his very eyes made him clench his fist in anger; his knuckles whitening from the fury running through his veins. The next two years after that had been a complete and utter mess. Dumbledore'd been murdered by the Greasy Git, and then there was the matter of horcruxes; disgusting, vile pieces of bastardized immortality that made even Harry gag – and that was truly saying something considering how dark he was.

No, Harry James Potter-Black was not an overly happy man in general, but at this very moment in time he was for the first time he could remember, actually gleeful. He stared down at the huge runescape beneath his feet with a wide grin splitting his face, and thought back to just how long it had taken him to achieve such a momentous feat, and what had led him to this very moment. After defeating Voldemort Harry had slunk into the shadows of the wizarding world, much to the anger of his 'friends'. He could still see their faces gaping at him when he told them all that he knew about how they'd been manipulating them. Almost immediately he was snapped up by the Department of Mysteries who offered him unlimited and unrestricted research credentials just so long as he forwarded his findings onto them.

He'd taken the offer, but had quite promptly discovered a loophole in the blood-contract they had him swear to. Suffice to say they only got the tamest of his discoveries. He'd spent three years without break travelling the world and learning magics thought lost and black beyond all imagining, and had found his personality shifting with his magic. The blacker his magic became so too did his countenance, though he was not foolish enough to lose himself to Dark Arts Dependency. He still retained some small glimmer of morality, as well as the capability to care and love for people, but the rest of him was entirely changed by the experiences he had during his travels.

He could still remember when he'd killed his first person during the Second War; how he'd frozen up mid-battle despite being in mortal danger, and how he'd caught a cutting hex right up his side for his idiocy. The thought that he was once so weak and restrained by society's perceived ideals was disgusting to him, even seven years after the fact. Since then he'd killed more people than he could count, and it rarely bothered him. He never killed without reason, for instance all the blood that was used for the runes at his feet, which covered the size of a football field, was taken from murderers, rapists, and traitors of the worst degree. The pile of nearly one thousand bodies he had drawn the crimson liquid from was a dark shadow across the back wall of the huge room within which he stood; surrounded by a stasis rune so that the entire place didn't stink of rotten flesh.

The construct beneath him was the result of a year's worth of torture – delivered by himself to several dark mages he'd abducted from America, Europe, and Australia. Well to be truthful it was the result of that, as well as another year actually drawing the runes required for the ritual he had planned. Oh he knew that when he executed the rite it would hurt more than anything he'd ever felt in his entire life, but that knowledge did nothing to wipe the triumphant grin off of his face. He'd love to see the look on Hermione's face if she saw what he had created. She'd be disgusted, of that there was no doubt, but he could just imagine the immense jealousy that he'd surpassed her in every single way when it came to magic.

Harry Potter-Black knew he was the darkest wizard since Le Fay, perhaps even more so than the Mother of Dark Arts herself, and he was damn proud of it. The runes at his feet, stretching for hundreds of meters outwards from where he stood, made up a temporal runeset that would make Unspeakables jizz in their pants. It was entirely theoretical, supposedly impossible, but Harry was confident in his abilities. He'd studied what he'd done for years; double and triple checking to make sure that his life wasn't going to be thrown away in vain, and he was sure it would work.

And if it didn't then the latent magical power would destroy the entire world around him anyways.

He looked down at his naked body; his eyes skimming over the shiny white tissue of the scars littering his body, as well as the black wolf tattoo that ran down his arm, ending just above his elbow. Its teeth snarled back at him, and its red eyes glimmered with suppressed power. The reason behind that was because the tattoo stored his aura safely away so that the one he projected outwards seemed light – because it just wouldn't do to be seen exuding an aura befitting of dark energy that would make even the Flamels' knees buckle. His body was toned to absolute perfection, a finely tuned machine carved out and tuned for battle. No excess fat clung to him, and all the muscle that he did have was lean and powerful; allowing him to hide his power so long as his body was covered.

He was still short at 5" 7', and that he blamed solely on the Dursleys, though he'd be remedying that within the next day or two. He sat down on the cold marble floor and crossed his legs; his wand in his hands and pointing towards his chest from his lap. Blood surrounded him; coppery smells invading his nostrils, and he smiled. With a deep breath he released the self-imposed blocks he had on his magic, and he could feel the crimson life-blood of thousands around him soaking up what he fed it; charging it for the impossible ritual to come. The lines turned darker and darker until they were black with dark magic, and it was then that Harry opened his eyes; thrumming emerald with power, and a wide smirk spread over his face. "Avada Kedavra."