TITLE: Click Click BOOM

TYPE: One-shot/Song-fic

GENRE: Harry Potter

TIME RANGE: Middle of 6th year. HBP compliant (sorta)

RATING: Teen

SHIPS: None

BASHING: Light Side

WARNINGS: Dark!Harry, Semi-Good!Voldemort, Manipulative!Light, Evil!Light, Semi-Friendly!Severus, Abusive!Dursleys

SUMMARY: Harry is beginning to notice the manipulation of the Light. The mistakes he's made over the years that he was 'rewarded' for. And, as the pressure goes up? Harry's breaking.

EXTRA A/N's: My first official one-shot! So happy! Please enjoy; there is no proofing or beta-ing, soooo… yea…

HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE?

Rumours continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the ministry of magic, during which He Who Must Not Be Named was sighted once more.

"We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything," said one agitated Obliviator, who refused to give his name as he left the Ministry last night.

Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centred on the fabled Hall of Prophecy.

Though Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who is also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going so far as to call Potter the 'Chosen One', believing that the prophecy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He Who Must Not Be Named.

The Current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although (cont. page 2 column 5)

Harry snorted as he read the cover of the paper, the destroyed Ministry Atrium taking up a majority of the page.

"I wonder where they got the idea of me being Chosen from," he muttered to himself sarcastically. There was no way they were smart enough to figure it out for themselves, so he figured that someone must have leaked it to them.

The only person who knew about it was Dumbledore.

When Dumbledore arrived and took Harry to blackmail Slughorn, he acted as though nothing was up and he was still a blind sheep. Secretly, he was having doubts of Dumbledore's morals.

Observing the Weasley's closely, Harry noted the very subtle dislike they displayed towards him. He wondered how he didn't notice it sooner.

When Harry followed Malfoy from Diagon into Knockturn with Ron and Hermione (who, he now noticed, tried not to touch him, as though he had some chronic, highly contagious disease), he didn't leave immediately. When he was alone, he bought some books. Not Hogwarts approved, and definitely not Ministry certified, either.

Harry bought his first books on Dark Arts.

Click

Harry noticed when Hermione Confunded McLaggen at the Quidditch trials, but couldn't do anything about it as he inducted Ron onto the team.

At night, in secret, he snuck down to the forgotten Chamber of Secrets and studied the Dark Arts.

When he received the Half-Blood Prince's old potions book – filled with helpful tips and obviously questionable spells – he didn't tell either of the others.

When he figured out who's handwriting it was, he went straight to the source of his interest.

"Enter," came Snape's bored drawl after he knocked on the door.

"What do you want, Potter?" he asked smoothly, barely masking his surprise. Harry subtly picked up the Prince's book in his left hand and his wand in his right.

"I want your help," was the sharp reply. Snape snorted.

"I am a busy man, Potter," he said, voice silky in his displeasure, "and I do not have time to tutor incompetents who don't have enough brain cells to figure out how to study."

Harry contained his glare, opting instead to look at his disdainful professor coolly.

"I don't want tutoring," he said the word with disgust, like it left a bad taste, "professor. I want help."

"There is no difference, you incompetent dunderhead."

"Actually," Harry argued, "there is. Tutoring is when the subject is a part of the core curriculum. Help is when it has nothing to do with it."

"Go to McGonagall or Flitwick and bother them with your teenage issues," snapped the irate Professor. The brat was starting to grate on his nerves and, as impossible as it seemed for Prince Potter, it appeared as if the ignorant dunderhead was doing it on purpose.

"They can't help me with this," said the boy slyly, "but you can."

"Your proof of my ability to assist you where they cannot?" sighed Snape. He really wanted to get back to his theorising; he was so close to a new potion that imitated the effects of the Cruciatus, and the brat was taking up his valuable time.

"This," said the child simply, displaying the ratty potions book openly. Snape narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"What is so special about an old potions manual?" he asked, tone low and dangerous.

Harry smirked, opening the cover and reading the inside.

"This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince," he read.

Snape stiffened.

"It's your handwriting, sir," he added, false innocence plastered on his face.

"You wish my help in spell creation?" asked the Professor in a low tone, eyes glued on his old book.

"That," responded the Potter brat, "and something else that I won't discuss here."

"Where?" was all Snape said, intrigued.

"Myrtle's bathroom," instructed Harry firmly, "11:30 tonight."

"If this is a joke, Potter," threatened Snape. Harry shrugged, clearly not intimidated.

"It's not," was all he said as he walked serenely out the door.

Later that night, Snape got the shock of his life.

"Dark Arts?" he sputtered, incredulous, "you want me to instruct you in Dark Arts?"

"No," said Harry boredly, "I want your help with the Dark Arts; I've already been using them for half a term."

"Fine," grunted Snape.

When Harry was summoned to Dumbledore's office for a 101 on How to Defeat Dark Lords Using Useless Light Spells, he found that the old fool was trying to drug him with loyalty potions (in the tea and lemon-drops) and showed him very specific memories that only painted Voldemort in a bad light.

Harry didn't buy it for a second.

After the first lesson, he went to visit Severus – as they were now on a first-name basis – and asked for a test to find out what potions he was being dosed with.

The list was nearly a meter long.

Click

When Harry found himself growing more independent, he found more and stronger potions in his drink and food.

When those didn't work, Dumbledore pulled out his hidden Ace.

"My boy," he approached Harry one Saturday afternoon, "I need you to return to your relatives this Christmas. The wards are failing faster than normal, as you're nearing adulthood, and need to be strengthened."

Harry had argued, until eventually Dumbledore had put his foot down.

"You will not be staying at the castle," he threatened, "even if you have to be tied up and mailed to them."

When he went back, Harry was beaten worse than normal. On par with when he had done accidental magic before his letter.

"Why are you so much worse than normal?" he asked Dudley absently one time. His cousin was being okay-ish after the Dementors last year.

"Someone with a name like 'dumbdoor' payed dad extra to make you submissive again," was the quiet response.

Boom

The next day, Harry approached the Dark Lord.

"Tom," he said as he approached, dodging the curses thrown his way, "I really need to – Gah! – talk to you!"

"What about, idiot boy?"

"I'm changing sides!"

That one sentence changed everything.

When Dumbledore took Harry to get the Horcrux on the island? Harry pushed him into the Inferi-infested water and apparated himself away.

When questioned? Accidental apparation out of pure panic when his beloved Headmaster was dragged below the surface by the hordes of zombie-like creatures as he protected Harry.

"Harry was hailed as a hero by the Dark when he returned.

When the final battle came and everyone watched him face off to the Dark Lord at the final battle of Hogwarts, they never expected Harry to turn around and say:

"It's all yours, My Lord," and slice the throats of Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Molly.

Harry watched the world burn, and the Darkness rise.

When the Light side screamed 'Why?'

"Because you manipulated me and left me to die," he said simply.

When the whole world died around him from the wars that the Muggles initiated when the discovered magic?

Harry honestly couldn't give a damn.

What do you think? I know, it's sorta insanely short, but I tried. This is my first, as I said, so be nice. I like constructive criticism almost as much as praise. Thanks for taking the time to read my little fic!

~PiptheSnake~

EDIT 22/04/2014: I know this doesn't really matter, but someone sent a review saying that Snape is a Dumbles lackey and would turn Harry in. In this fic, Snape is on no one's side but Harry's (actually, that's how it is in the book; he was only with Dumbledore because a) Dumbles blackmailed him with Azkaban and b) Harry's with Dumbledore too)

THANK YOU