Welcome! This is a new story I decided to write based on "Powers of Dawn and Dusk" by Lomonaaeren. I hope it's enjoyable. This story will be written fairly slowly unless a lot of people want more, so have patience, dear reader.

Thanks for checking it out.

I do NOT own Harry Potter or its universe. Those rights belong to JK Rowling and her publisher.

ENJOY!

Edit: Thank you to Tenjo for pointing out some obvious flaws regarding Harry. I accidentally wrote him more as a three month old instead of one year three months. That was my bad, and I really appreciate the comment letting me know.

Walburga Irma Black was renowned in the world of magical Britain and Ireland for belief in the purity of blood. She didn't care for the lives of filthy Mudbloods and thought they all deserved to be strung by their toes until their heads exploded from being too full of their disgusting blood. It was all their fault that the world was the way it was, and no one would ever convince her otherwise.

But it was someone else's fault that almost her entire family was dead: Voldemort.

She had never cared for that silly "You-Know-Who" nonsense that the sheep of the wizarding world called him. She had known the Dark Lord when he was still called Tom Riddle back in the 1930s. She had been a third year when he started at Hogwarts and was Sorted into her own noble House of Slytherin. She had seen the way Horace Slughorn, her Head of House, had favored the charming young son of a Muggle.

It was sickening.

But when Tom Riddle had started asking to be called "Lord Voldemort", she had laughed and disregarded him for ever thinking he could be a powerful wizard. And when he began his campaign in 1970 to take over Britain, she had seen the change in the man. He was no longer the handsome boy he once was; he was a monster. He swayed several old Pureblood families to his cause, and she had supported it simply because he was getting rid of Mudbloods and blood traitors.

She stopped supporting him when she learned what lengths he was willing to go to in order to maintain his power –– murdering his own supporters just for a small failure; creating soul anchors by murdering innocent children who had never done anything wrong (and magical children at that).

The final straw was the murder of her husband Orion and dear son Regulus.

Just like the rest of the wizarding world, she had celebrated when Voldemort fell to a mere child, a fact that would never cease to amuse her after all that the monster had done. She only wished she could have seen it happen.

Over the next three months, Walburga spent her time thinking of how she could repay the boy who had avenged her dear son and husband –– And then it came to her. The Black family needed an Heir, who better to take that mantle than an obviously powerful wizard who could be molded to the image she wanted him to take?

That plan brought clarity to the madness that had plagued her for two years since she lost her family to the monster.

Walburga spoke with her father-in-law, Arcturus Black, the current Lord Black, and he used his many resources in the Ministry of Magic to find the information she wanted while being discreet enough that Albus Bloody Dumbledore wouldn't know what they were doing. He found out everything he could about Harry Potter and his family, which led Walburga to where she stood now with an anticipatory grin on her pale face.

Number four, Privet Drive.

She could feel the magic of the illegal Blood Wards that surrounded the house, but that was no matter. She was a patient woman, and all she had to do was wait until he left the boy was gone from the home, then take what was hers.

When she got bored of watching herself, she ordered her devoted house-elf Kreacher to do it for her, trusting him above all others to do the job correctly. Unlike the other Pureblood supremacist families she associated with, Walburga knew of the true value of a house-elf, of the extreme and relatively unknown power that the small creatures held.

That wasn't to say that she liked the dreadful things –– oh no, she loathed the dependency that made them necessary –– but they were a necessary evil in the world. It made her life easier, so she could devote her time to much more important matters.

The neighborhood was so… Muggle… It made her ill just standing her, and she hadn't even seen one of the filthy creatures that inhabited the area yet.

The sound of a door opening, allowing the sound of an angry man to escape a home, drew her attention to her target. A disgusting-looking woman with a horse-ish face exited the house with a rather large blond boy in her arms, and another with messy black hair toddling behind her, who tripped over a step and fell onto his hands and knees.

"Get up, boy," the woman snapped at the one on the ground. "Stop acting so pathetic."

Walburga snarled quietly, thankful that her Disillusionment Charm held.

How dare that woman speak to her superior that way? How dare she think that she was better than such a powerful wizard?

Walburga was tempted to go to Hogwarts and tear Dumbledore to pieces for leaving her precious Heir in such a disgraceful and Hellish environment. How dare he place the savior of their world with Muggles? And Muggles that didn't even appreciate the gift they had been given, as well…

The man inside the house yelled something and the woman went back inside, her own son still in her arms.

This was her chance, Walburga realized.

She walked to the edge of the wards and revealed herself, staring at the boy, who stared right back with utmost interest.

And he was adorable.

His jet-black hair stuck out in uncontrollable tufts, but that could be managed with a little bit of magic. He had emerald eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul, and Walburga had a feeling that he would be quite the Legilimens when he was older if he could already give off that aura of seeing through a person. His skin was pale, and he was a little too thin –– clearly the Muggles hadn't been taking very good care of the boy.

It made her sick.

Here was the most powerful wizard alive, the savior of their world, and he was being treated like a piece of garbage; a burden.

"Hello," Walburga cooed softly, her dark eyes glimmering as she stared at the boy.

The boy smiled, revealing the beginnings of his growing teeth.

"What's your name?" she asked, knowing the baby likely wouldn't respond, but she wanted her new son and Heir to be intelligent. Speaking to him was the most logical way to do that.

The baby made a gurgling noise that sounded oddly like "Ay-Ree". Walburga was caught off guard at the fact that he seemed to understand what she was saying. He was clearly far more intelligent than she had given him credit for.

This would make things much easier.

She spread her arms out like she wanted a hug. "Come here, cutie. Mummy's going to take very good care of you."

Little Harry stared at her, almost like he was judging the truth in her words. At last he seemed to decide on an answer and toddled over to her.

Walburga swept him into her arms on the outside of the wards with a stifled snort. Leave it to the "Mighty" Albus Dumbledore to forget something so important as the fact that the wards only covered the property and could be navigated through other means. It was no wonder that he was placed in Gryffindor, with a lack of cunning like that.

"Let's get you to a Healer," she murmured, looking the boy over. "You look like you could use some proper nourishment."

She walked down to a dark alley, then disappeared from Surrey with a sharp crack.

Walburga reappeared in the home of her fathers with a dark glower on her face. She couldn't believe the sheer nerve of fucking Albus "Greater Good" Dumbledick, leaving a fucking soul fragment of an extremely evil Dark Lord inside the head of a child.

It had taken the Healers all of thirty seconds to find it, and another five minutes to carve the skin and bone out of a sleeping Harry's skull before re-growing and repairing his head. Someone with power like Albus Dumbledore's would have been able to do it in less time than that, which only left one possible explanation.

Dumbledore wanted that soul fragment there, but why?

It sickened Walburga that he would do that to a little boy, and she vowed to never let her son fall prey to his schemes. She would have the best trainers the wizarding world had to offer prepare young Harry for when he began his education at Hogwarts. There was no way she was going to let her Heir go into that place unprepared and ignorant.

She had known that Voldemort had created Horcruxes, thanks to Regulus. Kreacher had been ordered not to tell anyone what happened in that cave, but Lord Arcturus Black's authority over the house-elf superseded Regulus's.

Walburga was more proud of her son than he would ever know for dying a hero, for striking a deathly blow against the monster who sought to control their world.

"Kreacher!" she called sharply.

Crack!

"Yes, Mistress?" the old house-elf croaked.

"Take care of him," Walburga ordered, handing over the sleeping child.

"Yes, Mistress."

Crack.

Knowing that Harry was in capable hands, Walburga made her way to the drawing room where she knew she would find Arcturus. He spent all of his time reading old tomes in that dusty old place when he wasn't out subtly controlling the Ministry to do what he wanted.

Tall and broad-shouldered, Lord Black made for an imposing presence. His striking grey eyes unnerved his opponents, and his short black hair streaked with silver made him appear much younger than his current eighty-two should convey.

"Were you successful?" Arcturus asked with a smooth, deep voice, not even looking away from the book he was reading.

"Yes, my Lord," Walburga said, the anger in her tone nearly palpable.

Arcturus looked up at her with concerned eyes.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Walburga spent the next few moments informing her father-in-law, who happened to also be her first cousin once removed, but that wasn't important, about everything she had learned during her visit to St. Mungo's. When she was finished, Arcturus started cussing up a storm, using words that not even she had ever heard.

"It's a good thing you made the Healers swear oaths of privacy beforehand," he said after several minutes. "We don't need it getting out that the Boy Who Lived is being raised by Blacks."

Walburga voiced her agreement. The magical world would through a fit if they knew that one of the Darkest families in the world had gotten their hands on the Savior of the Light before even Dumbledore could. They would condemn him a Dark Lord in the making and he would have a far more difficult time accomplishing their goals.

They would have to teach him very carefully to push their agenda through subtly without giving away that the precious Boy Who Lived was a Purist.

"And you still plan to adopt the boy?" Arcturus asked.

"Of course," Walburga said, barely withholding a scoff.

"Will you raise him yourself?"

Walburga paused. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn't as young as she used to be, and there was only so much a house-elf as old as Kreacher could do. But who could she go to for help raising a child? She refused to ask Narcissa simply because she married a Malfoy, and she was sickened by their arrogance, believing themselves better than a Black! A Noble and Most Ancient House from the time of Merlin himself! Compared to a family of disgraced French farmers who had to rely on a lucky coincidence of their first British member knowing a royal.

She would have preferred to ask dear Bellatrix, but the young Lady Lestrange had gone and gotten herself locked up in Azkaban out of misguided loyalty to Voldemort, so that wouldn't do…

Then the idea came to her, and the fact that they were already raising two beautiful twin daughters she could betroth her son and Heir to for both of his families –– Potter and Black. It was so wonderful she was nearly bouncing with excitement.

"I suppose it's time to write a letter to Lord Carrow."

AN: Let me know what you think. This is a Dark and *maybe* evil Harry fic. I'm not sure yet, but it will be a blood-bigot story. He was raised by Blacks and Carrows, of course he's going to be bigoted. If that kind of thing is annoying, then don't read. It's that simple.

THANKS FOR READING!