The Son of a Dark Lord
Summary: Harry Potter isn't really Harry Potter. Neither is he the Boy-Who-Lived, and is therefore thrown away as trash. When he turns sixteen, glamours unwraps his true self and he leaves the Light to find his real family. Slash, HP/DM.
Pairing/s: Harry/Draco in future chapters.
Warnings: Rather extreme Light-bashing, Father!Voldemort, 'nice' Death Eaters, James and Lily Potter alive, Harry Potter not being really Harry Potter and so on.
Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter.
Harry Potter, soon to be sixteen years old, had just put away the glass he had used when he heard the door to the house opened. He looked at the time; over midnight and winced. His parents, mostly James Potter, would yell at him if they found him here. But he froze as he heard another voice:
"Maybe some tea as we talk."
Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster of Hogwarts. The man of the pure Light. Harry did not like him at all. The teen wasn't too fond of his parents either. They only loved him because he was the Boy-Who-Lived and therefore made them famous. It was him they used when they wanted to get to a party, it was him they always showed for their guests and him they laid the blame on everything that happened in the house.
He stood silently and listened; his father or mother would conjure tea as they never went into the kitchen if they could help it. Sometimes he wondered why they had built one. They did not even use it to eat in there, they had a dining room. They just sent for the food through the kitchen, sometimes not knowing if the right things would come.
"Albus, you said something about Harry," James' voice drifted into the kitchen and the teen froze again. What was it now about him?
Harry Potter was rumoured to be the Boy-Who-Lived, a child who had survived the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra. He had been at home with his younger brother Mattie when Voldemort, the Dark Lord, had attacked the house. None of the two boys had been injured except for Harry having gotten a scar on his forehead in the shape of a firebolt. They had declared him the Boy-Who-Lived even though no one had been witness to what had happened. Voldemort had managed to escape unharmed and now lay low although his Death Eaters attacked places steadily.
He was the one destined to kill said Dark Lord, but lately, Harry had not felt up for the task. He felt sick of being controlled and wanted out of this life, however, so far he couldn't do anything about it. No one was there to help him and he probably wasn't ready to do it on his own.
"I fear we have made a mistake," Dumbledore's grave voice said. Harry's eyes widened. A mistake?
"A mistake?" Lily asked with a gasp.
"Yes. We have all waited for Harry to show any signs of a power unknown to us, but that has not been the case," Dumbledore said. Harry sneered; as if he would show any extraordinary powers for that man. "And now when we have had time to think about the Prophecy, I do not believe he is the Boy-Who-Lived."
Harry had to put a hand over his mouth to stop the gasp that tried to get out. He was not the Boy-Who-Lived? How the hell had Dumbledore made such a mistake? But the next sentence broke his heart, unknown to the three adults:
"Is it because the brat isn't ours?" It was James who had spoken.
"Most likely," Dumbledore said. "I know now I should never have asked you to take care of him."
"He's from a Dark family," James growled out. "Tell me again Lily why we even agreed?"
"We thought of giving him a chance," she replied patiently. "But lately… all he's done is reading those horrible books about Black magic." Her tone was off. It often was when it came to him.
"He must be controlled harder," Dumbledore said. "Tomorrow, we will tell Mattie that he is the Boy-Who-Lived."
"Oh, he will be so happy!" James said, his voice light. "He has been jealous of that brat ever since he was old enough to understand why everyone stared at Harry."
"What should we do with Harry?" Lily asked, sounding nervous.
"I don't want him in my house," James interrupted harshly. "He's Dark and deserves whatever death we bring onto him."
Tears fell from Harry's face as he numbly sank down onto the floor. They… they did not even like him. They wanted to get rid of him. They had only kept him because he was supposed to kill Voldemort. And now when they had discovered their 'mistake', they wanted him dead.
"We will restrict his movements," Dumbledore said, the eagerness showing in his voice. "We will of course go public with the fact that Mattie was really the Boy-Who-Lived but we chose to let Harry take over the roll to protect his younger brother. But that announcement must only come after Harry has died."
The teen's eyes widened; he did not want to die! He wanted to live! He wanted to travel, see the world, and be free!
"Of course," James said. "Make it look like he died of an accident, maybe a poison…"
"Or he accidently fell down from his broom and broke his neck," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "He has always been so reckless on that broom, unlike you James my boy." That was a lie; he had barely been up on a broom. He didn't even like flying.
The teen could hardly breathe. He did not want to hear anymore. He wound his arms around his knees which were pressed up against his thin chest and unknowingly began to rock back and forth. They talked about his death like they discussed the weather! How could they? They were supposed to be the Light, the righteousness and the kind-hearted. Not these monsters.
"Well, I must be going now," Dumbledore said a little while later. "I give you, James, the honour of telling Mattie tomorrow but do it discreet. He must not tell anyone about it at this time, not even Harry. We can't have the brat knowing what we know."
"Of course not," Lily said, apparently trying to sound light. "Besides, Harry is always outside during the summer with a book."
Harry kept his breathing soft and shallow as the three rose up, James and Lily probably saying goodbye to their mentor before he left. He didn't hear it due to his frantic heartbeat. He felt cold, chilled to the bone now when it all was starting to process. He wondered if that chill was from fear or pure rage. He couldn't decide.
He heard the two Potters (now refusing to think of them as parents) move upstairs, probably to go to sleep. He had to wait until they were asleep; Lily usually took some Muggle sleeping-pill and James slept deep, only after that was it safe to walk upstairs without fearing being discovered.
He slowly uncurled as he heard said man's snoring drifting downstairs and walked upstairs. He got into his room and locked the door quietly. His thin frame was shaking as he slipped underneath the blue covers of his bed. He curled up to a ball and wished the world could go to hell.
"Harry, get up! You can't sleep all day!"
The teen woke up abruptly at the rapping on his door. Not sharp as with James, but rather gentle. Lily was always so gentle.
"Harry, why did you lock the door?" Lily continued. She sounded confused.
Quick; a lie, a lie!
"What? Did I lock the door?" Harry said, feigning sleepiness. Disappear, vanish, go away and leave me alone.
"Oh… well, get up now. Breakfast is going to be ready soon."
He shook his head; sometimes it was too easy to trick her. He rose up nonetheless and moved into the bathroom to freshen up.
He emerged into the dining room twenty minutes later, dressed in loose black jeans and a black shirt. James was reading the newspaper, Lily was loading up breakfast for Mattie and Mattie just sat there.
Harry, if that now was his real name the teen could no help but muse, could not think of anyone more snobby and spoiled kid than Mattie. Ron Weasley, Mattie's best friend, maybe was not snobby and spoiled but he was arrogant. Merlin, that child was arrogant! Every time Harry heard the Weasley would come over he fled the house to escape the whiny voice the redheaded boy had. Shortly said, Harry did not like Ron Weasley.
Neither did he like Hermione Granger. She was a bookworm, like himself, but she enjoyed to show off. She loved to point out things, and trying to make him look like a fool. So far, he had been the one to push her back into place since he learned faster than her. He took secret pleasure in making her angry or upsetting her.
Neville Longbottom was alright, but the boy was awfully clumsy and nervous, and not to mention ridiculed by the trio. They all were in Gryffindor while Harry was in Ravenclaw. Another thing that disappointed the ever arrogant James Potter and his two friends Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. He hated them all.
Harry sat down and took a toast. He ate with little interest while Mattie stuffed his face just like Ron did. The teen looked away, trying to not look disgusted. Outside the sun shone steadily and only a few clouds drifted about from what he could see.
"Harry, what did you plan to do today?" James asked, not even looking away from the paper.
"Maybe take a book outside and read," Harry said. "I haven't finished the one about Animagi."
"Oh," the man said and appeared to look at Harry. He was slightly disappointed when the teen looked out of the window. He noticed the clothing and was even more disappointed; why did the teen have to dress like Severus Snape all the bloody time? It was getting on his nerves. He knew the brat was not his but at least he should have been manipulated enough to wear more colour-full clothes.
"Why so gloomy today?" James asked, indicating the clothing.
"I just threw on some clothes I found," Harry said with a shrug before returning to eating his small breakfast. "These are fine to be outside with; don't want to destroy any robes."
James seemed to accept that answer and dove into the newspaper again.
"Harry, we thought of going over to the Weasleys later, and sleep over there," Lily said. "Would you like to follow? Fred and George are after all in your age…"
He noted on her tone she rather wished him to stay home, even though his birthday was tomorrow. He did not dislike Fred and George; rather, the two of them were the only ones of the Weasleys he liked. He did not know Charlie and Bill very well, but Fred had told him Charlie was like Ron but Bill had cut all ties with his family years ago. Harry wanted to know Bill even more ever since he heard that.
But he could not stand the rest of the Weasleys and therefore said:
"You wouldn't mind if I stayed home?"
"No, I guess I wouldn't," she said. "James, you are coming aren't you?"
"Of course. I have some things I have to discuss with Arthur anyway," James said and folded the paper. "But weren't we going to Diagon Alley today?"
"Yes," Lily said patiently. "We are going to meet them there, I and Molly planned that."
Harry rose up and the three Potters looked at him. He carried his glass to the kitchen, he was the only one to do it every day, and began walking upstairs.
"Son, you don't want anything from Diagon Alley for your birthday?" James called after him.
"No," he called back. Since when you come back tomorrow I won't be here.
He knew they were going to talk to Mattie before they went, telling him the 'great' news so he hurriedly picked a few books and escaped the house. He walked over to a pond they had and sat down there.
He was lost now. How was he going to escape this night? Because escape he would do; he would not sit around and let them kill him! He would flee the country if he had to. He knew enough French and Italian to be able to succeed. He knew about their customs in France, Italy and even in Russia and if he was lucky he maybe could get into Beauxbatons and finish his education there. They would not tell England if he showed them his OWLs, right? He had to look into that because if they did he would just say he had lost the paper.
He had of course Outstanding in everything; he expected nothing less of himself. His only interest up to this day was studying. He did not have any friends in Ravenclaw; hell, the only ones he frequently spoke to was his Head of House, the Charms professor Flitwick and Trelawney, the Divination teacher. He did not have much time to speak to the twins, and when he was with them they mostly let him read while they experimented with their pranks. Another disappointment for James Potter; Harry had no interest in that either. Sure, watching the prank unfold was fun but planning it was rather boring. Fred and George admitted that too but their interest was stronger than his.
Suddenly he felt lonely. He did not have any friends except for Fred and George and he could not go there; he would be sent back to the Potters immediately. He had no adult he could get help from, no one who could help him. It would be too risky to involve the teachers at Hogwarts, both for himself and for them.
He had money at least. Harry made sure James and Lily had never known he had sold various potions ever since he started Hogwarts. Some of the ingredients he stole from the potions master Severus Snape but had always left money in an empty can in the storage room so the man could buy new. Considering the money was always gone and new ingredients were there, Harry was sure Snape did not feel so angry.
Some of the potions he sold cheap since making them were cheap but the more advanced potions he took more for to actually earn from the deal. No one knew his face or name; they probably thought it was a potions master, not a kid.
Last year he had gone to Gringotts to open a new vault his parents did not know about. The name the vault was written under was Drago. The head-goblin, Rockspeer, had told him since he was not of age someone had to act like his guardian. Desperate, Harry had suggested Rockspeer would be the one. The goblin had been surprised, but the pleading eyes made him cave in.
Harry got secrets letters once a month from Rockspeer, and had not even tried to figure out how the letter ended up underneath his pillow every singly time. Rockspeer had only looked at him, amused, when Harry had asked.
He realized an hour had passed and he had not read a single word in the book. Lily came out from the house, walking towards him. He saw James and Mattie move out as well, the younger teen with a satisfied smile on his lips. So now he knew he was the one, and Harry was no one. He was probably on the verge of bursting out his glee into Harry's face. Mattie despised Harry, and Harry despised Mattie. Simple as that.
"Harry? We are going to leave now."
She watched the teen turn and looked into his eyes. They were so sad. They had always been so sad. Lily felt her heart wrench for a moment but promptly stopped herself. No! If Harry lived, their lie would be destroyed. Plus he was dangerous. James and Dumbledore said he was very dangerous, and then Lily had no choice but to believe them. They knew more about the dark people than she did.
"Okay," Harry said and turned back to his book. She stared at his back for a moment; while he was never really the one for hugging and cuddling he had always hugged her at least. Now he did not even seem to really have heard her.
She took a step forward, unsure.
"You are going to be late," Harry said quietly. "You better go; Mattie seems impatient."
"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked. Her heart was softening; no matter what she had said yesterday, she had mostly said it because she knew James and Dumbledore wanted to hear it. She was against killing children but knew it was futile fighting against her husband and Dumbledore combined.
"I'm fine," he said. "Just… go. Leave me alone."
His voice sounded so heart-broken. Lily glanced over at James and Mattie; the man had apparently begun speaking about his time at school because Mattie was grinning. The way James moved, she had no doubt he was telling about Severus to let Mattie have some new insults to the potions master. She grew angry for a moment and decided to write a letter to the man, telling in case Mattie would call him something once it was time for school again. She turned back and kneeled down before Harry. She tilted his head up and looked at him. His eyes looked tiredly at her.
"Are you alright?" she asked again, now worried for real. This was only a child, for Merlin's sake! A child! Although she loved her real son, Harry had become a son for her as well. Apparently not for James but for her Harry was more of a son than Mattie. It pained her heart, but it was true. Mattie was James' child; Harry was hers.
"Fine," he repeated. Inwardly, he was confused. Why did she care? Didn't she want him dead like James and Dumbledore wanted?
Lily bit her lip. She had heard them discuss, James and Dumbledore, how to kill him. It was now or never.
"Harry, I need to tell you something that you can't tell anyone else," she said hurriedly. "I don't have much time." She glanced over at her husband and son but they were engrossed in James' story.
"O-okay," Harry said, brows furrowing as he looked at her.
"At midnight tonight glamours placed on you will disappear," she said and his eyes widened. "I love you as my own child, but you are not a Potter. When the glamours have worn off, I want you to leave this house and never, never come back. You hear me?" She had taken his face in both her hands, holding it gently but making sure she would look into his eyes the entire time.
Numb, Harry nodded.
"Alright," she said, blinking rapidly to will the tears away. "I will leave money in your room, okay? Don't take more than you have to and for Merlin's sake, make a mess. Make it look like someone took you. You have to do that for me!"
His own tears began to well up. She wanted him safe. Whatever she had said the night before, she hadn't meant them.
"If you care about me, why did you say all those things yesterday then?" he whispered.
Her eyes widened, and knew he knew what the two men planned. She hugged him tightly and said:
"I'm powerless against them. I obey them when they are there but try to change things behind their back. Take care, and don't contact me. It won't be safe for you. I wish you good luck, and remember I love you."
Abruptly, she let go and walked back quickly. He could hear her say:
"James dear, I forgot a thing. You two Apparate to Leaky Cauldron; I'll come in a few minutes."
James nodded and took Mattie's hand. When he looked to where Harry was, the teen appeared to be completely absorbed in a book. He suppressed a small sneer and Apparated away.
As soon as Harry heard Lily Apparate, he ran up to the house with his books. He locked all the doors and ran up to his room, for once not caring if grass ended up on the carpets or the floor.
On his bed sat a pouch filled with Galleons. He took it in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. She had held her word. It must have pained her to let him go so abruptly, knowing that the day after she was most likely never going to see him again. One thought filled his mind, one thought that comforted him more than he imagined.
Lily was on his side. She would never tell anyone what she told him. She would never say, years later, that in reality Harry Potter was alive and well. She would never say that.
Harry found himself sitting on the bed, knees shaking, not able to hold him up, the pouch pressed against his chest. He sat there for a long time.
The teen looked at the watch. One minute to midnight. One minute to see if Lily spoke the truth about the glamours. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, he wondered if they could be heard from the other side of the room.
The whole day had gone to carefully pack what he needed; all of it had fit inside of a small trunk. A few changes of clothes, a few books he could not handle leaving behind and one picture of Lily. James did not even know Harry had it. Everything else he would leave behind. Creating chaos he would do later.
The clock struck midnight and his eyes widened. His whole body went rigid and a tickling sensation went through him before changing into pain. He fisted his hands into the sheets and gasped. Every inch of his body hurt, it felt like his blood was burning and he was convinced his heart would burst. He was aware that his body was shaking, shaking in pain and he suppressed a scream. Every bone in his body cracked, and he wondered if this was how it felt to die.
As soon as it came, it ended and he lay exhausted on the bed. He managed to move after a few minutes and looked down at himself.
He had grown taller but not gained any weight so he probably looked even thinner than before. He stepped up from the bed and grimaced when the pants and shirt he wore was too short. He threw his trunk open and tried the other clothing. None of them fit. He ran into James and Lily's bedroom, ignoring the pain in his body and threw Lily's wardrobe doors open. James was too big for him, he knew that but Lily was while long rather slim. He found a pair of black jeans and put them on. They fit, and he growled in annoyance. He had to wear a woman's clothing. He sighed and picked out a shirt that looked new. It was dark blue and he took it on. It hung a bit on his frame, maybe because she may have some more body fat than him, but for the moment he did not care. He shut the doors and went back into his own room. He repacked his trunk and put it in the hallway. He then turned to his room and looked around.
Create a mess. Make it look like he had been taken. This would be fun. Out of impulse, Harry pretended to stumble into the bookshelf, so annoyingly red and golden it made his eyes hurt, and books fell down to the floor. That would be reasonable; someone had been pushed in the fight. He then continued with one swing wiping everything from his desk onto the floor. Ink bottles broke, quills went flying and parchments spread around on the floor. He threw the covers down onto the floor and, remembering, took out a knife from his nightstand; a knife he had secretly bought in Knockturn Alley. Holding it to his chest for a moment, Harry was happy to have remembered it. He ripped large holes into the mattress, making the feathers in it fly up in the air. As a finish, he pushed down the whole wardrobe and with a bit of focus, made it look like a spell had been misfired and burnt the wall.
Looking around the room, the mess was obvious. Something was missing though. He felt like an artist, laying his last hand on the masterpiece, thinking what would make it complete. He turned around in the room, and with a pang knew what was missing; there was a significant amount of chaos and destruction in the room but no bloodshed.
With that he raised the knife to his arm and cut through the skin, redness appearing, he hissed at the pain and then let the blood land on the crispy white sheets. A spray of blood painted the white walls. The wound started oozing blood and with that he made it look like he had been carried out while bleeding. He grabbed the trunk and walked downstairs. He briefly grabbed a towel but did not wrap it around the wound. He kicked the back-door open, the same door he had used so many times to get to the pond, and went out. He let the blood drip down into the grass for a little while before wrapping the towel around his arm. He looked back once at the house, and then disappeared into the shadows.
Well, what do you think? I wrote the summary up a long time ago but haven't had the time or inspiration to start until now.
Chapter two: the Potters and Dumbledore comes back to find the mess, and Voldemort has a very strange dream… it will most likely be a short chapter.