A/N I'm sorry for not continuing HPATB or We're Not Freaks. They're not abandoned, I'm just bad at continuing to write. An right now, I've read a few Dark!Harry stories, so I've been having a ton of ideas for what I'd do to write one and felt like I needed to write it for a bit. But I will finish every story I start, it just might take longer than you guys and I want it to.

Chapter One: The Dursley's Greatest Fear

Harry James Potter was not an ordinary child. He always knew this. Ordinary children usually knew what their name was by the time they were five. Ordinary children didn't sleep in a cupboard under the stairs. Ordinary children didn't get beaten into unconsciousness by their family. Of course, they'd stopped that by the time he was eight. Not out of compassion for him. Out of fear.

Causing fear was the only way he was able to have a reasonable life. After the beatings stopped, it took three months before he used their fear to get a room. Of course, many of the kids at school still attacked him, but his cousin, Dudley, became a bit of a pariah for not joining in. And Harry always got his revenge.

It was an average day at the Dursley residence, with Dudley getting the post. "Um, H-Harry?" Harry turned to look at his slim cousin. "Y-y-you have a l-letter." Dudley held out a letter and turned his head away, as though he expected to be hit. Harry merely smirked and took the letter he was offered. After a few seconds of reading, he looked at his relatives.

"Do any of you know what Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is?" The Horse's face paled. "Ah, so you do know. Explain it, Horse." The Horse, known to people who weren't Harry as Petunia, twitched. Harry ignored the twitch, he knew his relatives despised his nicknames for them nearly as much as he despised them. His Uncle was called Walrus and his cousin was Whale. Unfortunately, Dudley had lost a lot of weight recently, probably because of the nickname, so Harry couldn't keep calling him Whale. Such a shame.

"W-w-well..." Horse took a breath. "We were g-going to t-tell you. W-we just d-didn't know h-how to b-bring it up." Harry sometimes wished they'd fear him a little bit less. Purely because he despised their stuttering. "Y-your m-mother was a w-w-w-witch. I b-believe she was r-referee to as a m-m-Muggleb-b-born."

"Muggleborn?" Harry didn't know the term. He hated not knowing things.

"Y-yes. They c-call n-non-m-magical p-people Muggles." Harry smirked. Muggle. Sounded suitably disgusting. "I think y-your f-f-father was a f-full w-w-wizard. They b-both w-went to H-Hogwarts. It it it's a school f-for m-magic. That's what y-you c-can d-d-do. Also, I-I should a-a-apologise. B-b-before w-we knew our p-place, w-w-w-we t-t-told you that y-your p-parents were d-d-d-d-d-drunks who d-died in a c-car crash."

Harry glared at her. He spoke in a voice far too cold for a child. "I take it they didn't then?" If anyone else had heard that, they would have though the literal embodiment of death was in the room. The Dursley's knew better. They didn't fear Death, they knew there was someone worse.

"N-n-n-n-n-no, they d-d-didn't. They w-w-were k-k-k-killed. B-by a D-D-Dark L-L-Lord. I-I-I s-swear, if w-we'd known our p-place when we f-first got you, we w-w-would've t-told the t-truth." Tears were dropping from her face. Tears of fear.

"Stop stuttering." Horse flinched. "The letter says I need to buy some things. Was there a place my mother went to get her things?"

Horse took a deep breath. "We went to a place in London called Diagon Alley. We had to go through a pub called The Leaky Cauldron. I'm afraid I can't remember the names of the shops. Some of them might have closed, anyway, it has been about 20 years. There was a bank there, you should probably go there to see if you have any inheritance." Harry was honestly impressed she avoided stuttering. It truly showed how much she feared him. Although there was one thing he was unclear about.

"Why did you not attempt to find out about any inheritance I might have? If only to steal it?"

"W-we didn't w-want to be n-near m-magic." Apparently, she couldn't help her stutter anymore. "B-besides, I c-could r-remember that m-muggle's c-couldn't s-see the entrance. W-we could only g-get in b-because L-Lily, y-your mum, held our h-hands." Harry glanced disdainfully at Horse.

"You're taking me there on Friday." Horse nodded furiously. "And never keep things from me again. Do I make myself clear?" All three of the Muggles nodded. "Good. I'd hate to do something you'd regret. By the way, Dudley, when is Piers' funeral?" The Muggles all paled dramatically.

Piers Polkiss was one of the more stubborn bullies. He'd frequently harass and attack Harry. Whilst Harry was allowed to use whatever money he Dursley's had, he often made a bit more money by selling illicit goods to the older students. No one knew how he got them and whenever someone tried to get him in trouble, there was never any evidence.

Piers didn't want to pay for Harry's prices and would try to bully him into given them away for free. Two months ago, he'd cornered Harry in the bathroom and pulled out a knife he stole from home. Harry hadn't realised at the time, but the reason he only got small cuts was because of his magic. The only reason the police didn't get involved was that Mr Polkiss was a friend of the chief of police from their private school. It also required a few bribes. Two days after the incident, Piers went missing.

He was found a week later inside of a blackberry bush. He never spoke of what happened, but everyone knew it was Harry. Obviously, there was absolutely nothing linking Harry to the disappearance, but that didn't stop people from staying away from him. Only one person didn't avoid Harry like the plague and that was a 14 year old alcoholic who bought whiskey from Harry. Piers avoided Harry as if his life depended on it. A week ago, Mr Polkiss came home from work and found Piers in the bathtub with his wrists slit. He was approximately an hour too late for his son.

All of the Dursley's understood that Harry could and would do the same to any of them. Only Horse realised that he would only do it to Dudley. Harry knew Dudley's death would destroy the two of them.

"The f-funeral is on S-Saturday." Harry smirked.

"Looks like you'll still be able to go, Horse." Horse shivered in fear. She knew the Polkiss' blamed Harry for their sons death. She didn't expect any of the Dursley's to get a warm welcome.

31st July 1991, 11:32 AM, The Leaky Cauldron, Charing Cross Road, London, England, United Kingdom

"Excuse me?" Tom looked down at the boy who'd just spoken. He suppressed a sigh. The boy in front of him looked exactly like an aristocratic Pureblood heir. The exact kind of spoilt brat he preferred to avoid. "Would you be able to let us through the barrier?"

Tom frowned. "Could yer guardian not do it?" Harry suppressed a look of disdain. A rude bartender with a cockney accent in a shabby bar. The only thing that could be worse is if he stuttered.

"Well," he looked at the floor. "My parents died in the war, you see." Tom's eyes widened in horror at being so rude to an orphan. "And I was sent to my closest living relatives, my aunt and uncle." He gestured to Horse, who was standing next to him. "Unfortunately, they're both Muggles, so they can't open the barrier. If it's too much bother, we can ask someone else..."

"No, no, no. I'm sorry for bein' a bit sharp with ya. I'm used to dealin' with rude customers who are too lazy to 'member the order of the bricks." Tom quickly left the bar and lead the young wizard and his Muggle aunt to the back.

"Awrigh' laddie, pay attention. Yeh tap this brick, then thissun and finally, yeh tap this one righ' here. Yeh got that?" Tom had used his finger to show the order to Harry. That way, if he hadn't gotten in first time, he could simply show him again, instead of waiting for the wall to close first.

Harry smiled. "Yes, Sir. I've got it." Tom have a largely toothless smile before repeating the motions with his wand. As Harry walked into the Alley he only had one thought that he quickly verbalised. "I'm home."

Harry and his aunt quickly walked to the end of the Alley, where Horse remembered the bank was. As Harry walked down the Alley, he wondered what people were expecting of him. Horse had given him a letter that had been delivered to the Dursley's alongside Harry. After reading it, he'd found out that he'd be famous because of that Dark Lord guy. Apparently, he'd survived something previously thought to be impossible to survive. He'd hidden his scar with some of Horse's makeup, though he'd be looking for an alternative immediately. It wasn't that he was ashamed of the scar, on the contrary, he thought it was quite nice. It certainly made sure everyone knew he wasn't average.

However, he didn't wish to be recognised today. He knew he wouldn't be recognised for any familial resemblance. Horse had given him a picture of his parents that his mother had sent her after the wedding. He knew he had his mother's eyes, though he doubted she ever had the same look of hatred and disdain he had when looking at the Muggles. He looked nothing like his father. He supposed he might have if he'd let his hair grow wild, but he didn't. Instead, he'd grown it long and kept it neatly tied back into a ponytail that reached about halfway down his back. Quite a few kids at school had called him a faggot because of it. Until he convinced them not to. He also thought he had a more refined look than his father. His hair was so black it seemed to suck in the light from around him. He wasn't a vain person, but he knew he was an attractive child, the kind who's cheeks are in danger any time an old lady sees them. And he knew he would be able to seduce the devil himself when he was older. Had he known more about the wizarding world, he'd recognise the Black heritage he held. As it was, he wouldn't find out about that for a few years.

Harry and Horse entered the opulent bank and Harry swiftly made his way to a teller. Horse reluctantly followed him. She didn't appear to want to approach one of the creatures. Harry didn't care want she wanted. "Good morning, sir. I have come to find out if I have any inheritance from my parents?" The creature looked up at him.

"Name?" Harry hid a scowl.

"Harry Potter." He was lucky only two other people were in the bank. Even luckier that neither of them were paying any attention to anything other than the creature in front of them. He liked his anonymity and would be sad when it was gone. He noticed a very slight widening of the eyes of whatever the thing in front of him was.

"I see." The creature got out of its chair. "Follow me, Lord Potter." Harry raised an eyebrow at the manner of address, but didn't say a word as he followed the thing. He knew that if he hadn't instructed Horse not to embarrass him, she'd have gasped or some such nonsense. After a few minutes walking through some corridors, the thing knocked on a door and led them into an office of some kind. The office was fairly spartan, with no decorations except for a lethal looking battle axe hanging on the wall behind a desk with one of the creatures sitting behind it. The battle axe had some sort of filigree pattern on it and looked like it could easily split someone completely in half. The walls appeared to be made out of some sort of stone, slate perhaps? Two opulent chairs were sitting in front of the desk, both having blood red cushions and gold inlays. The desk looked quite expensive. Perhaps mahogany? He'd heard people say that was expensive.

The first creature spoke briefly with the one sitting down in a foreign language of some sort. Harry assumed the language was only spoken by the creatures and was complete gobbledygook to every single Muggle on the planet. And every wizard on the planet with the exception of some extraordinary people who desire knowledge of everything. Harry knew he would become one of them. Even if it was only to find out what the creatures said when they thought no one could understand.

"Thank you, Griphook. You may go." The first creature, apparently called Griphook, nodded and left the room, closing the door behind itself. "Well, Lord Potter. So nice to finally meet you. My name is Barchoke. I am the Goblin in charge of the Potter accounts. What can I do for you?"

"Could you explain why you and Griphook called me Lord Potter?" He figured he'd get that question out of the way first. Plus, Barchoke had already answered his question of what they were.

"Of course, Lord Potter. In the Magical world, Family Names are everything. Some Family's, known as Houses, are considered to be Ancient, Nobel or both. These Houses gain Seats on the Wizengamot, the Wizarding Government. House Potter is one of these Houses. In fact, House Potter is a Most Ancient and Most Nobel House. I can recommend a book at Flourish and Blott's that will go into the intricacies of what that entails if you'd like?" Harry nodded and Barchoke wrote down the name on a piece of parchment.

"Anyway, the Heads of Houses that fall into these categories are given the title of Lord. Their wives are considered to be the Lady of the House. Other members of the House are called Baron's or Baroness' once they reach their majority. Now, normally, the Head of House chooses when to relinquish their Lordship. Or they die and the title is passed on to their eldest son. If they have no sons, then it falls to their eldest daughter. If they have no daughters, it continues to the closest living relative. In an event like the Potter's situation, where the entire Family has been wiped out, with the exception of a minor, the House is defunct, until the last remaining member reaches the age of 11, at which point they receive the title of Lord or Lady. Since you are a male, the title is Lord. Did you understand all of that, Lord Potter, or would you like me to repeat some things?"

"I understood, Sir. Could I have a look at my financial status, please?" The Goblin pulled out a file and handed it to Harry.

"The first page details the main Potter Vault, your parents Vaults and your own Trust Vault. I am afraid you will not be able to remove anything from the Potter Vault until you reach the age of majority. Your Trust Vault has 10,000 galleons deposited into it on your birthday every year. Since it has remained untouched for your entire life, you have 110,000 galleons at your disposal. Your parents Vaults have no money in them, they instead used them to store their personal belongings." Harry nodded his understanding.

"The second page details the various properties associated with the Potter Accounts. These include Potter Manor, alongside the River Wye in Wales, Dorea Stables, in Whitefield, Scotland, and 13 Diagon Alley, currently being rented out to a broomstick company called Broomstix, as per an agreement made by your father. They make a good profit. Potter Manor has a staff of three House Elves available."

"The third page lists the Potter investments, which are many and have resulted in the Potter's being very wealthy."

Harry read through the document, before turning back to Barchoke. "Well, Sir, this all seems to be in order, however I would like to know why you didn't ask me for any proof of who I am before giving it to me?"

Whatever reaction Harry expected Barchoke to have, a deep throaty laugh was not it. "Lord Potter, please know we here at Gringotts consider the security of our clients to be of the utmost of importance. My office has charms on it that will reveal any kind of magical trickery, allowing me to know if anyone is not who they say they are. Further more, the spells on that folder ensure that only the Head of the Most Ancient and Most Nobel House of Potter and their Account Manager can open it. We are also the only ones who can read it. To anyone else, it would appear to be empty."

Harry chuckled. It was a much warmer laugh than he normally had, however Barchoke still felt nervous. He hid it well, though. Horse did not hide it well. "Well, in that case, can you tell me anything about Knockturn Alley?" He'd noticed the Alley on the way to the bank and was intrigued.

Barchoke's face grew more serious. And considering the usual expressions of Goblins, that was quite a feat. "Lord Potter, that Alley is very dangerous. It is filled with all kinds of criminals and lowlifes. I would highly recommend that you not go down there without a wand and a bodyguard. And preferably another weapon of some kind."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Would I be able to hire a bodyguard from Gringotts? One who could follow me without anyone seeing them?" Barchoke grinned.

"That can be arranged, Lord Potter. One moment." Barchoke got up from their desk and approached the door. After opening it, they barked some orders at someone outside. They came back to sit down after a moment. "One of our mercenaries will be here shortly."

"Mercenaries?" Harry was surprised at the wording. "I thought I'd be hiring a bodyguard?"

"Mercenaries can be bodyguards, Lord Potter. Besides, the only Goblins we offer to wizards at all are mercenaries and warders." Harry nodded in response and waited patiently for the mercenary to arrive. He wasn't waiting long.

The doors opened to reveal an impressive Goblin, standing about the same height as Harry. His left ear appeared to be missing. A gruesome scar stretching from just below his right eye down to his left shoulder added to the intimidation of the already intimidating creature. Strapped to his back was a large battle axe with a similar pattern to the one behind Barchoke's desk, though the design was clearly different. The Goblin held out his hand to Harry. "Skullcrusher, at your service."

"Lord Harry Potter, at yours." The proffered handshake was accepted. "Excuse me for asking, but is that your real name?" He couldn't imagine any parent wanting to name their son Skullcrusher. "My apologies if this offends you, I just have to know."

Skullcrusher smirked. "No offence taken." His voice sounded like he'd been smoking for sixty years and then decided to swallow a cup full of gravel. "It is my real name." Make that ten cups of gravel. "I was named after my grandmother."

"I see." Harry was more confused than ever. Was Skullcrusher a unisex name? Or was this battle hardened mercenary a woman? "Can you follow me without being seen?" Skullcrusher barked out a sharp laugh. It sounded like a shotgun went off. A few seconds later and Skullcrusher completely disappeared from sight.

"Runes carved into the dragon hide." That explained what his tunic was made out of. Had he not said dragon, Harry would've assumed it was crocodile skin. "If I press them once, I turn completely invisible. A second time and I'm visible again."

Harry didn't even need a moment to consider his decision. "You're hired." He turned back to Barchoke. "Do I have to go down to my Vault to get some money out?"

Barchoke shook his head. "Of course not. If you'll provide a few drops of blood, I can set up a money pouch that's connected straight to your Vault." Harry used a switchblade he carried around with him to cut his finger and allowed the blood to drip onto the pouch, before stowing the weapon away. Skullcrusher, who was visible again, approached Harry and healed the small cut. Had Harry known more about Goblins, he would have recognised that they were both impressed he carried a blade. A few seconds passed, then the pouch glowed brightly, before quickly fading. "The pouch is now connected to your private Vault. All you have to do is put your hand inside the pouch and think about the amount you need. The appropriate amount of money will appear within for you to take out. Additionally, no one else will be able to use the pouch and it will return to your pocket if it gets more than thirty metres away from you." Harry nodded at the information before paying Skullcrusher for 10 hours worth of guarding. He didn't think he'd need that long, but it was better to be safe, than sorry. After that, Harry, Horse and an invisible Skullcrusher left the building to go to the wand shop.

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. I was wondering when I'd be seeing you." Harry hid his shock at the old man suddenly appearing. "Yes... I remember your parents wands. Your fathers was Mahogany. Eleven inches. Good for transfiguration. While your mother preferred a wand more suited for charms. Willow and 10 and a quarter inches. Well, I say she preferred it, but it's really the wand that chooses the wizard." Harry didn't care for this mysticism. If it was important, he'd look it up later. The old man seemed to sense Harry's opinion and just got on with it. "Here try this wand." Harry took it and didn't even get to do anything before the creep took it back. "No, I don't thinks so, how about this?" After the fourth wand, Harry was a bit impatient.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but is there some way we can speed this up? I have lots of things I need to buy today." The old man looked disgruntled, but still answered him.

"For two galleons and a drop of blood, I can find out exactly what your wand will be made of." Harry quickly paid the man and cut his finger again. The man made Harry drop the blood onto a piece of parchment, and some words began to appear. He healed Harry's wound with a lazy flick of his wand, before studying the parchment and gasping. "I-I've never seen this before!" Harry raised an eyebrow. "I-I have a wand with the appropriate core, but the wand wood... well, it isn't wood." Harry frowned and asked what he meant. "The wand you're most suited for will be made from the Core from this one and a basilisk fang carved into a wand's shape." A small box floated over to the two of them.

"Well, can you get a basilisk fang?" The old man looked up in shock.

"The last basilisk to ever be seen was in the 16th century. I'm sorry, but you'll have to make do with this wand. It won't be prefect, but it'll be much better than any other wand." Harry couldn't quite hide his disappointment. "If you are ever able to get a basilisk fang, I'll take the phoenix feather out of that one and place it in the fang, free of charge." Harry nodded his agreement. "That wand costs nine galleons." Harry quickly paid the strange old man and left. "We can expect great things from you Harry Potter. Great things indeed." After that, Harry quickly bought everything he needed within Diagon Alley, including a bottomless bag to store everything and a full wardrobe of wizarding clothes from Madam Malkins and headed to the entrance of Knockturn Alley.

After wandering around for a bit, he came across a book store. He entered the shop and began perusing the books, only to be interrupted in his search by a voice. "Are you sure you are in the right place, little one?" Harry turned to look at a large muscular man with black hair and a piglike face.

Harry made sure to act as innocent as possible. "Of course I am, Sir. This is a book store and I love reading. How else am I to learn?" The man smirked.

"Well, not many people would be ok with you learning about this kind of magic. In fact, many would prefer that no one knew of it."

"But, knowledge is important." He put on a confused face. "Why would anyone hide information? That isn't right." The man in front of him laughed.

"You're right. It isn't right. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lord Dominic Crabbe. What's your name?" Harry tensed imperceptibly. He wasn't prepared to give up his anonymity just yet. Especially not to some stranger who'd talk to a random child in a shop.

"My name's Harry. Harry Dursley." It pained him to say that and he'd make sure the Dursley's knew about his displeasure later.

"Well, Mr Dursley, I own this shop, so if you have any books you'd like to buy, simply bring them to me." After about an hour of searching, Harry brought about twenty books to the checkout. "Dear Merlin. I wish my son was like you. Unfortunately, he took after me in looks and his mother in brains." That seemed to crack him up a bit. "You know, if you're planning on taking these to Hogwarts, you might want this bag." Crabbe placed a bag on the counter. "It's full to the brim with charms that will hide anything you don't want people to see. Even Dumbledore won't be able to find out what's in there." One hundred and eighty-three galleons later, and Harry and Horse were on their way home, with an invisible goblin riding on top of the car. He'd been paid to guard Potter for ten hours, so he was going to guard Potter for ten hours, whether he needed to or not.