A/N: Well, every author needs a rather odd Harry, and I think we can all appreciate just how fantastical a person can be given the right circumstance. I hope you all enjoy!

And now…

Onwards…

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.

In Which Harry Discovers He is a Dark Lord

For as long as Harry could remember, he had always been a rather odd child. He lived with his normal relatives in a rather boring neighborhood, where the only form of entertainment came from running from his cousin or figuring out how to unlock his cupboard without anyone the wiser. Harry was a freak, different from his normal relatives, and as such had to earn his keep in whatever way they so chose, whether it was by weeding the garden or cooking them extravagant meals while he was left with only a small morsel if they felt generous.

Personally he thought it was a tad unfair.

However he couldn't really argue against them. He knew he wasn't normal by any sense of the word after all. Even his cousin could attest to the fact that Harry was the most abnormal child he had ever had the displeasure of meeting. It had hurt at first, not having his family care for him because he was so different from them but as he grew older, he had his first epiphany.

The fact that he was a freak, was utterly amazing!

For as long as he could remember, there was an odd energy idly floating within him, it felt powerful and always left him with a giddy feeling whenever he reached out towards it. Like a big ball of light, always eager to help when Harry called upon it. It had taken a lot of trial and error, with unfortunately quite a few beatings mixed in there as well, but Harry finally had reached an understanding; and dare he say comradery with his gift.

He learned if he focused really hard, he could change things around him, small, insignificant changes that helped make his life easier. He learned how to repair rips in his clothes simply by running his hand over them, or how to create water whenever he was thirsty after toiling all day in the sun. Then whenever the darkness in his cupboard become too much he would just make a few globe of lights appear and let them float lazily above his head, and later, he had even learned that just by clicking his fingers together he could unlock his cupboard door, though he mostly used this ability when the Dursley's were fast asleep, not wanting earn any extra punishments from them should he be caught traversing around their home without their supervision.

Though his personal favorite ability was also the most useful, he could heal himself. No matter how brutally his uncle tried to beat him, 'to stomp out his freakiness' it never worked, it just caused a rage to build up in Harry at the thought of ever losing his wonderful abilities and made him once again thankful that he wasn't normal.

Normal people liked to beat and starve freaks.

Normal people treated him as if he was dirt, and would ignore the multiple bruises and lacerations on his small body.

Normal people would never care for him.

And so he decided he didn't need normal, he was fine as he was.

For Harry, being a freak was a wonderful thing; after all, if his relatives were considered normal than by all means he would eagerly accept his freakiness and embrace it with open arms.

Which is, incidentally, what led him to where he was now.

It had all started out innocently enough; he had been toiling away in his aunt's award winning rose garden (curtsey of his own hard work) when one of his friends came by to talk politics with him. Unknown to the Dursley's and almost everyone else in general, Harry had numerous friends, it's just not all of them had legs, or arms... or could technically talk.

You see, most of Harry's friends were snakes, sure the odd cat or two would come by to complain about their pathetic servants now and then, or how once again they were fed the wrong type of food or petted incorrectly; and a few birds had decided that he needed more worms in his diet and had taken to mothering him whenever they flew by his home; but the snakes were his true friends and conversationalist… as long as he flattered them of course.

Snakes were ridiculously vain.

It was on this day, however, that his whole life changed about. He had been so engrossed in his friend's complaints on how difficult it was to hunt for mice in a suburban area that he never even heard his aunt coming to check up on him.

However, her high pitch scream quickly alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone. And that he was probably in trouble.

He had turned to look at her, wondering what exactly had set her off now just to be confused when he took in her pale countenance as she started to mutter on how he was the devil's offspring under her breath, her painfully thin frame trembling as she simply stared at him and made the symbol of the cross over herself.

He perked up a bit as he listened to her hysterical mutterings, all his life he had been under the assumption that his father was a raging junkie and a drunk, but in reality; he had been a demon, and wasn't that a shocker?

His family's hatred of him suddenly made a lot more sense. He didn't really feel demonic, and was rather put out at the fact that he didn't own a pitchfork or have horns, but at least he finally understood where his odd gift had come from.

He wondered if his father had owned a pitchfork, maybe you had to rent them like a library book? Or was it like and heirloom you passed on to your child at a certain age? If so he was rather upset that he had yet to receive it, and hoped it hadn't been lost in the mail, he had heard his uncle complain numerous times on how horrid the mail service was, and wouldn't be surprise if they had misplaced his family's pitchfork somewhere.

Regardless of his inner musings, his snake speaking ways seemed to be the last straw for his Aunt; as after pausing in her hysterics to make sure he wasn't about to spit up pea soup or call up fire and brimstone she had immediately grabbed his arm and forcefully dragged him into his cupboard, making sure to add a few extra locks to the small door for safe measure.

A few hours later spent mostly on contemplating his paternity and the possible repercussions of living with humans and not in hell with his more sadistically prone relatives he was once again disturbed from his musing by the appearance of a group of men wearing funny red dresses.

All in all, it had been an extremely odd day, one that seemed far from over.

They all seemed surprised in his opinion, a few of them staring at him with wide eyes, some with disbelief and even a couple that didn't seem to like him that much, if their glares were anything to go by. He supposed that they were the religious sort like his aunt and uncle were. He was just thankful that no one had thrown holy water on him yet, he wasn't too sure if it would affect him or not and wasn't eager to find out any time soon. He did have to admit however that while the glares they sent his way were extremely impressive, they unfortunately were nothing compared to his uncle's fantastic representation of the colour purple when it came to his anger problems. Oh well, what they didn't know couldn't hurt them.

After a whole lot of yelling, which Harry was thankfully able to block out thanks to years of practice, he was made to go with the odd group of men. A few of them seemed scared of touching him until finally one of them; who he supposed was their leader, snapped at them. At that they quickly grew abashed and grabbed hold of him before seeming to bend reality right before his very eyes. One moment, he was in front of his relative's home, and the next he was in a large waiting area, filled with the most fantastic things! He saw small paper notes flying lazily about and oddly enough more men in dresses, waving around sticks that they all seemed fond of. One of them was shouting out in panic, as the bottom of his dress was being clung onto by a small tin soldier with a disturbing leer on his painted features.

While waiting patiently with the odd group he was offered a cup of strange tasting juice, with a pumpkin aftertaste before being quickly rushed off to a trial of some sort. There he was made to sit in a chair that seemed to belong in one of his uncle's 'grown up' videos than in a government building. It was filled to the brim with metal chains but thankfully they stayed idle, as he didn't quite fancy being tied up to a chair like he had seen in those videos.

He wondered if his uncle would appreciate it more, after all the man had a rather impressive pile of VHS's and magazines all filled with woman or even men tied up. He supposed it was just an adult thing and he would understand it more when he was older.

Looking around he noticed a rather surly judge was staring at him with a patented looking sneer on his lips as he barked out numerous odd and confusing questions. To his surprise he was able to answer them all with ease, even when he didn't know the answer to a few questions he would still respond, he had never known himself to be so articulate. The more he answered however, the paler everyone's faces became. To the point that he swore a few of them had even fainted, though he wasn't exactly sure why.

He supposed that these weirdly dressed people also weren't too fond of demons, or their offspring's.

Perhaps he should have thought out his answers a little more after all.

Finally after he was done answering their questions, they had reached a verdict. To Harry's surprise it seemed he was a Dark Lord bent on world domination, or rather, he would have been one if they hadn't caught him in time. He was impressed with how fast they had responded to his evil intentions; he hadn't even realized yet that he was so undeniably evil, course he should have probably known better, given who his father was.

After telling him what his future intentions would have been, they sentenced him to life in an oddly named prison and at once let out a collective sigh of relief at having stopped such a demonic force before he could have truly caused mayhem to their world.

And that is how Harry discovered he was a Dark Lord on the rise, with a demon as a father instead of a drunkard as he was forcefully thrown inside his new room in a large stone castle filled with screams and deranged laughter…. All at the tender age of six.

A/N: As you can probably tell, Harry's a bit… different when it comes to his thought process. Let's just say he will have a very 'interesting' experience in his new home, contrary to other's hopes. As the story goes on it'll make more sense on why exactly this all happen, but till then I hope you all enjoy the ride! Please leave a review if you've enjoyed the tale, they always motivate me to write more and make me smile at the fact that these tales are being enjoyed. Thank you.

Till next time…