Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter, that honor belong's to J.K. Rowling. I only play with her characters for free amusement.

Warnings: This story will be a Ravenclaw!Harry and a Dark!Harry with an Almost Sane!Voldemort. This story will contain slash but I will try to keep lemons down to a minimum. Some cursing might appear, but only rarely. There will probably be graphic duels, dark arts, and maybe a bit of torture. There will be confused!Sirius, I-messed-up!Remus, and a tad bit of annoying!Ron later in the story. Oh, there will be a larger, more pro-active!Order of the Phoenix and Ambitious-Conniving!Death Eaters.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Little Gem

Private Drive was saturated in a foul sour odor emanating from the kitchen. Harry blearily wiped his eyes and stumbled out of his cupboard, trying to find what that horrid smell was. He found his Aunt Petunia standing over the sink with a large wooden spoon in hand. In the sink was steaming hot grey water and what looked like different types of dark rags.

"I thought poaching elephants was illegal?" Harry asked Petunia as he crinkled his nose.

"Don't be stupid boy," Petunia snapped testily. "I'm dying some of Dudley's old things grey for your Stonewall uniform."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his uniform. How on earth was he supposed to blend in wearing oversized and foul smelling clothing? It was as if Petunia was trying to take over Dudley's role of ensuring Harry never made a single friend.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came barreling through the swinging kitchen door, both of whom wrinkled their noses at the smell of Harry's new uniform. As per usual Uncle Vernon sat down at the head of the table and opened his newspaper while Dudley banged his Smelting's stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. Harry had just set Vernon's coffee on the table when they heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail Dudley," said Vernon from behind his paper that was flipped to the International section.

Harry looked up wide eyed in shock before sneaking a peak at Dudley and sticking out his tongue. This seemed to infuriate Dudley who said, "Make Harry get it, I'm eating."

"Get the mail boy," Vernon grumbled unconcernedly.

Not one to give in so easily Harry bolstered up a bit of courage and said, "Make Dudley get it."

Dudley looked at Harry in shock; it wasn't often Harry spoke back after all, before he gripped his stick tightly and launched it at Harry from across the table. Harry dove out of his seat and evaded the blow. Just as he entered the hall way he heard Vernon praise his son, "Good boy, Dudley."

Harry rolled his eyes as he picked up the mail and rifled through it without much thought. There was a letter from Marge – Vernon's sister, a few bills, a postcard from Petunia's friend who was on vacation in Majorca, and a letter for Harry. His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the emerald green ink on thick yellowish parchment.

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Private Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Harry's first thought was that this had to be some sort of joke. That one of the Dursley's had for some bizarre reason had played a joke on him. But the thickness of the parchment, not paper, the purple wax seal with the large 'H' stamped into it, and the fancy, curly script the address was written in was just too much effort for a Dursley to put into Harry Potter. It was absurd, much like the idea of the prime minister stopping by for dinner. Not only were the Dursley's as unimaginative as a cardboard box but they also cared so little about him that they often forgot to feed him or let him out his cupboard for bathroom breaks.

So who had addressed this curious letter? Who could possibly know that his room was the cupboard under the stairs? Harry flipped over the letter once again and broke the wax seal with his finger. Inside the envelope was more of the expensive parchment and Harry felt his pulse start to race as he unfolded the two sheets.

"Are you checking the letters for bombs? Hurry up boy!" Vernon Dursley shouted from the kitchen table and Harry jumped. He'd forgotten he'd been sent to get the mail.

Quickly, Harry opened his cupboard and hid the envelope and parchment under his pillow before he made his way back to the kitchen. Uncle Vernon was not in a particularly pleasant mood and if Harry was right and this letter wasn't a prank by one of the Dursley's then the last thing Harry needed was for the man to learn that someone knew. If someone had found out about the cupboard then what else did they know?

No it was definitely better not to let on that anything was amiss.

"Sorry uncle Vernon," Harry said quietly as he handed the mail over and took the large ceramic mug.

His uncle didn't respond as he rifled through mumbling – 'Marge is ill – vacation in Majorca' – while Petunia did the crossword in the games section of the paper. Dudley was the only one paying the least bit of attention to Harry; he was trying very hard to hit Harry with his new Smelting's stick while Harry refilled Vernon's coffee.

Harry wanted desperately to ask to go back to his cupboard, to see who had written to him – prank or not – because he had never received mail before. Not even from the library. But asking to go back to his cupboard was like putting on a giant sign that flashed in neon colors saying 'I'm doing something I shouldn't be'.

Reluctantly, Harry waited until the family had wandered out of the kitchen and the dishes were washed to sneak back into his closet. The television was on which provided Harry the much needed distraction so he could examine this odd letter. Butterflies erupted in his stomach as Harry grabbed the envelope and parchment, slowly unfolding until his eyes drank in the first line.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Even as his mind exploded into a plethora of questions and childish awe Harry couldn't stop his eyes from flying over the page.

Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer,

Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards.)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

(Deputy Headmistress)

Harry sucked in a harsh breath and reread the letter at least five times. While at first a very large portion of his mind was very adamant that magic wasn't real, the longer Harry sat there staring at the list of supplies on the second page the more Harry remembered how weird things always seemed to happen to him.

At one point he had turned a teacher's hair blue when she had laughed at him when Dudley had pulled his much too large pants down in the middle of class. Then there was the time that Petunia had tried to shave his head and his hair grew back overnight or when she tried to put a horrendous sweater with puffballs on him and it shrunk before their eyes until it was smaller than her hand. Or when Dudley and his gang had chased Harry and he had somehow ended up on top of the school roof. Was magic the reason Harry could talk to that python in the zoo? He had gotten in so much trouble for all of these…and he had been terrified because he couldn't control it.

Were these weird happenings magic? Would Hogwarts teach him how to control it? How to wield it?

That last thought brought an eager smile to his lips. Just imagining that he could learn to do magic was exciting, sent his pulse racing. If it was true…if this letter wasn't a prank…It couldn't hurt to write back. Either he would be ridiculed by the prankster or he would be a wizard…not a very hard choice when one choice so heavily outweighed the other.

But what did they mean they await an owl?

Harry frowned and stared at the word as if it would grant him some clue as to what it meant. Owls were nocturnal, Harry knew that, but he had never actually seen one. How was he supposed to capture an owl? Let alone get it to deliver a letter?

With a sigh Harry glanced over the list, the reality of his situation setting in. Even if this letter was real and he managed to find an owl, there was no way the Dursley's would pay for Harry to go to magic school. They loathed anything remotely weird, such as teenagers in ripped jeans and black band t-shirts; they would die before they spent money on Harry – especially for magic.

Harry jumped up and pushed the letter back under the pillow. He wanted to forget all about it but as he walked into the living room his mind was still forming lists upon lists of questions. Harry didn't know why he believed a letter so easily – it just felt right – and he wanted desperately to go to Hogwarts, to learn magic.

It was then that something caught his attention, something flashed in the corner of his eye. Harry looked at Vernon who was entranced in the television before looking out the window. Much to his amazement there was a brown owl sitting on the fence. Harry raced outside, running despite Vernon yelling at him to stop running in the house, and over to the owl who showed no signs of being skittish. In fact it looked right at Harry and hooted.

Harry's green eyes widened in surprise and he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Are you a Hogwarts owl?"

The owl hooted again.

"Wait here please? I'll go write a reply – just wait here!" Harry called over his shoulder as he ran back into the house. Vernon had gone back to his show and paid no mind to Harry as he flung himself in his cupboard and banged the door shut.

He pulled out a piece of notebook paper and a pen from his backpack from the previous year and hurriedly scrawled out, not adding any questions he had in fear of the owl flying away and losing his chance.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

Does Hogwarts have a school representative they can send? I am afraid my relatives won't believe in magic as easy as I did and I have so many questions.

Thank you,

Harry Potter

He tried to fold the notebook paper neatly and Harry even tore off the edges where he tore the paper out but the letter was horrendously ugly next to the pretty loopy scrawl and parchment of the Hogwarts letter. But even that didn't stop him from holding out the thin paper unsure of what to do next. The owl seemed to sigh at him as he swooped down, grasped the letter in its beak, and flew off. Harry watched in awe until the owl had flown so far it couldn't be seen and then made his way back to his cupboard.

If Hogwarts was real – and there was a great deal of circumstantial evidence to suggest so – Harry didn't have very long until term started. He idly wondered if he was unable to attend Hogwarts if he could find out how to teach himself magic. Despite having to do worse than Dudley in all his classes for fear of Dursley wrath, Harry was a studious student. He loved to learn and to teach himself new things. If he could only find a magical library Harry was sure he could teach himself magic in secret. After all the time Harry hid out in the library from Dudley and his gang he was quite good at navigating libraries.

Even with only a shaky hope of attending Hogwarts Harry tore out more pages from his notebook and made a crude calendar to count the days.

The next day passed by so slowly that Harry wondered if he might explode from impatience. He needed to know if magic was real and even though it was highly illogical that another owl would come so soon, Harry couldn't stop himself from peeking out the window in hope. If the Dursley's noticed Harry's unusual behavior they didn't comment. Vernon strode off to work and Dudley was out with his gang causing general chaos and beating up the other eleven year old kids who were smaller than he was. Petunia had Harry weeding the garden while she watched her soap opera and for the first time Harry wasn't bitter over the fact as it put him that much closer should the owl come back.

But no owl showed up that day or the next. Harry had just finished the dishes after lunch and had started to lose his hope. His gaze still darted to the window and the thought of Hogwarts made his stomach flop around but Harry couldn't stop the fear that snaked its way through his system. What if magic was real but because he was so clueless they wrote him off? Or what if the owl got lost or sick and the letter never made it to Professor McGonagall? What if Harry was meant to go to Hogwarts but never got to because of a mishap?

These thoughts rolled around mercilessly in his head, warring for dominance over his growing list of questions about magic. Could everyone talk to snakes? Was the owl okay? What were the limits of magic? Questions continued to simmer in his mind until Harry was completely filled with nerves and unable to sit down.

It wasn't long after he went back to his cupboard to stare at his calendar that the doorbell rang and Harry's heart leapt into his throat. Quietly he opened his cupboard door as Dudley opened the front door. There on the front porch was a woman tall enough to tower over Dudley. Harry's eyes widened as he took in her black dress and pointed hat. The woman's expression was stern; her lightly wrinkled mouth was set in a straight line and her hard eyes were behind square shaped glasses. Harry found himself rather dumbstruck at the stern looking woman; she was certainly brave to come to the Dursley house dressed like that.

"I'm here to see Mr. Harry Potter, is he in?" The woman asked Dudley in a thick Scottish accent. Although Harry couldn't see Dudley's face he imagined the boy had to have had his own look of surprise.

"M-mum!" Dudley hollered loudly. "MUM!"

The woman on the porch locked eyes with Harry and he watched as her sternness gave way to shock. Her mouth opened to say something but it was drowned out when Petunia came out of the kitchen. "What's the matter Dudley, who is –" Petunia stopped talking as she made a choking sound before she walked forward and Harry could see her pull herself up to full height.

"Go away; we don't tolerate freaks in this house." Petunia snarled caustically. Harry watched with wide eyes. Petunia had never called anyone but him a freak. She had most definitely never spoken with such hostility to anyone but Harry.

Freaks. Was the reason Petunia had been so hostile because Harry and the woman were magic? But then – that'd mean that she knew about magic. That Vernon and Petunia knew about magic –

"Mrs. Dursley that is exceedingly rude," the woman replied in shocked anger as her cheeks tinted pink. "Witches and Wizards are not freaks. Merlin, your nephew is one!" Now the strange woman was definitely angry as she stalked forward into the hall and Dudley backed away in fear to stand behind his mother.

"He'll not be going, we won't allow it. We won't tolerate that freakishness here." Petunia seemed royally angry but Harry watched her hands shake violently.

"You knew?" Harry finally spoke up and opened the cupboard door fully. There was a cry of rage from the oddly dressed woman but Harry could only stare at his aunt. "You knew I was magic and you never told me?"

"Mr. Potter – "

Petunia cut the woman off, her voice scathing. "Of course we knew, how could we not? Your mother and father being what they were. Fat lot of good freakishness did them; they went and got themselves blown up."

Blown up. Harry felt as if Petunia had strangled him. Her ashen face and the hellfire in her eyes did nothing to help. For as long as he could remember the Dursley's had told him that his father had been a drunk, that he had been driving drunk and gotten his mother killed.

"Blown up?" Despite however angry being lied to made him Harry couldn't help but ask. What had blown up his parents? A bomb? Magic?

"Mrs. Dursley are you telling me that Mr. Potter has no idea who he is? Who his parents were?" Harry looked to the woman and almost flinched back. Her eyes were dancing in fury and she now had a stick in her hand that was shooting out red and gold sparks sporadically. Even as scary as she was though this display of magic enraptured Harry. This, these colored sparks that come out of a piece of wood, was the first display of magic he'd ever seen. He wondered if she would perhaps do more but one look at her furious expression left Harry unable to muster up the courage to ask. She had angry blotches of red in her cheeks and her fists were clenched.

"Albus Dumbledore left this boy in your care," the angrier the woman seemed to get the thicker her accent seemed to get.

"We never wanted him," Petunia stated in prim anger though she was more timid than she had been moments ago, seemingly wary of the sparks coming from the other woman. "He was forced upon us, left on our doorstep like trash with only a letter to threaten us into keeping him."

"What?" Harry managed to ask in a shaky voice full of disbelief.

The woman seemed equally as shocked, "Albus would never – "

When the woman faltered Petunia pounced like shark that smelled blood in the water. "But he did! I woke up the next morning and the little freak was crying on the doorstep."

"This boy is your family! How could you – are you out of your mind?" Almost like magic the woman seemed far taller and the air far warmer. "You are the most despicable Muggles – no people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting."

Fascinated at how thoroughly petrified Petunia was, Harry watched the woman stalk forward reminding him greatly of a lion. Somehow without his noticing Harry had ended up behind her, looking at Petunia and Dudley's terrified faces. "I have met Death Eaters who treat their family better than you. This," she waved her arm in the cupboard's direction, "this is child abuse - you monster!"

It happened faster than Harry could blink, one second Petunia was fine and the next the woman in front of him angled her arm and bright bolt purple light hit his aunt in the chest. Petunia screamed briefly before strangled choking noises took over. It almost looked as she couldn't breathe until large black bats began flying out of her nostrils. Dudley was horrified and crying but Harry watched with a gleeful smile. The bats flew about the hall in a terrified way before finally making their way out the door all the while Harry laughed delightedly.

"Mr. Potter," the woman called over Harry's delighted laughing and the Dursley's horrified screaming, "I suggest we leave." She held out her arm which Harry didn't hesitate to take. Then the world went black and Harry felt as though he'd been sucked through a straw.