Re-Edited and Re-Posted on December 18, 2012.
Notes: No idea where this came from but it refused to go away. I warn you it is dark and slightly twisted; will have mentions of rape and torture! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing and I make absolutely no money from this fic. J.K.R. owns all rights to Harry Potter.
Broken, cracked, shattered; how long could Harry keep going like this? How long could he hold the pieces of his mind, his soul, his sanity together? When would the crushing weight pushing onto his young shoulders finally be too much? How long until he falls and doesn't get back up again?
They want Harry to be their savior. Their beacon of light, shining blindingly bright and pushing back the encroaching darkness.
Do they not see the light dying in his emerald eyes? Don't they realize that even the brightest light will dim when it is constantly smothered by the darkness? Constantly under seige from the blackness that writhes with neglect, pain and hate?
No, they don't see it. They never do. No one cares about Harry. They never have.
He is nothing but a chess piece to move about as they wish. Used to sack the Black King before he, himself, is felled by the White. Harry knew, with absolute certainty, that once he killed the Dark Lord he would become a liability. They would claim he was too powerful and unstable to continue to be free or even live.
They would use the fucked up life they forced him to live to show how unstable his personality was. The Light would cite his inability to control his massive amounts of magic as a reason for his imprisonment.
It was funny how the raven haired youth's life went so far. Harry had never known true unadulterated love. He'd never known the loving touch of a parent or the pure caress of a lover.
Those sweet things were for normal people not the Chosen One. Harry didn't need love or care. No, he just needed to fight when they told him to, just needed to kill the Dark Lord, and then disappear into the Ether. No one would want a reminder of Voldemort's reign of terror. No one would want the reminder of the sullied brutal history the green eyed teen's presence would remind them of.
Well Harry had finally had enough. They could protect themselves from now on. For once in his short life he was going to live for himself. Tonight the soon to be ex-savior would leave Number Four Privet Drive and join his nemesis.
After tonight he would be free. After tonight the raven would either be dead or he would be accepted and recognized for who and what he was. The emerald orbed teen was just a love deprived, affection starved, sad sixteen year old boy.
Magically his strength matched Dumbledore's but his mind, soul, and body were atrophied. Harry was stunted and crippled from the ignorance and hate of his family; the violent beatings at the hands of his uncle, starved of food by the hands of those who should have cared about him. Harry was crippled from the lack of love he should have been shown; first at home and then by his friends at Hogwarts.
Friends; did he ever really have them? Or were they always puppets being controlled and maneuvered around by Dumbledore's machinations? Harry would probably never know and honestly he didn't care. Not now and never again.
The only people who ever told him the score up front were two men who despised him; Severus Snape and the Dark Lord Voldemort. Ironic that on the Dark side he could see so clearly where he stood while on the side of the Light he was always stumbling around lost in the darkness.
A bark of laughter tinged with madness and overwhelming sadness erupted from his dry throat and passed his cracked lips. Yes, tonight he would leave his family's home and join the Dark Lord's side; either Voldemort's or Death's. Harry really didn't care at this point.
Pulling his bruised, beaten, form up from his wafer thin, bloodstained, mattress the raven made his way to the door. The door was decorated with many strong locks; his relative's pathetic attempt to keep him locked in and away from their precious family.
Another insane trill of laughter came from his starved form as he waved his hand over the locks. He smiled as his magic responded to his will and the sound of clicks filled the stale air of his room as they were released. Harry opened the door slowly, Holly wand at the ready, and made his way silently down the stairs, jumping quietly over the creaking third stair near the bottom.
When he reached the bottom Harry made his way to the back door. Once at the door's threshold the emerald eyed teen slipped on his invisibility cloak. He thanked his foresight to steal back his prized possessions when he arrived back at Number Four for the summer and stepped outside, breathing in the clean night air.
It was time to go now.
He focused his foggy mind, clenched his wand tightly, and turned on the spot. With a booming crack he disapparated into that dark night. What waited for him was unknown but Harry knew he was no longer their little beacon of light.
From now on he would be the Dark Lord's harbinger; the bringer of darkness. He relished the coming time when the traitor's screams, and pleas, would rent the air; saturating and mingling in with the stench of their spilling blood.
All Mistakes Are My Own!