Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. I'm simply not that talented.

Author's Note: This is my first fic. I had this idea, and I have no idea how far my brain will get with it. It's going to be mostly longish drabbles, until/unless I can come up with a coherent story/plotline, or until my brain stops coming up with ideas. Also, I'm trying to meld Pitch Black cannon with the retconned Chronicles of Riddick cannon, so please bear with me. I welcome polite constructive criticism, and I absolutely welcome ideas from other people as to where it should go and what I should do with it. I might not use your suggestion, but inspiration can come from anywhere. If anyone's interested in picking up this idea to make their own story, PM me.

WARNINGS: This story is going to be dark! Abuse, murder, violence, sexual content, uncouth language, the works. Chance of slash. Possibly angst, though I'm going to try to limit it. I'm making it an M warning to be safe. If you do not like anything listed above, DO NOT READ THIS FIC! The "back" button should be located at the top of your browser. Thank you.

Summary: Petunia Dursley was fed up with the freaks ruining her nice, normal life. So, she decides to rid herself of the problem. Permanently. Young Harry is going to find himself in the deepest, darkest pit the spell can find ... known to convicts the galaxy over as Bounty Bay.

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Excerpt the First

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No more. She wouldn't put up with it any more! The little freak would not ruin their lives anymore! She's make sure of it!

She stomped up the stairs, into her and Vernon's bedroom, and dug through her closet. It only took a few minutes for her to find the small safe. This was her private storage, not even Vernon had ever dared to open it. She entered the combination and pulled the door open. Within was the last attempt her sister had made to mend the bridges between them.

Apparently, while the freaks had built their little society with their stupid wands and idiotic robes, someone had been angry that the freaks had such power and good, normal people didn't. And that someone had tried to even the score. Lily had managed to find the book of rituals buried deep in some old bookstore in some stupid freak town. Started with an "H", Petunia vaguely remembered. Lily'd thought it would make Petunia more accepting, put them on more even footing. Petunia had only scoffed at the peace offering, and that had been that. Except, it wasn't.

It was true, Petunia was terribly jealous of Perfect Little Lily. She was jealous that she was more beautiful, that she was smarter, that she had magic. So after Lily had gone to bed, Petunia had retrieved the book and looked through the rituals. They were mostly defensive, harmless. Except one, hidden in the spine of the ancient book. This ritual was a Banishing ritual, meant to send an enemy to … somewhere else. The spell was nonspecific as to where.

It had taken Petunia a couple of years of searching to find the stone the ritual required. It was charged, or something, and was the center of the spell. By the time she'd found it, Lily had graduated from the Freak Academy and was engaged to her freak of a sweetheart. Petunia had hidden the stone, and the ritual, and gotten on with her life.

Lily thought her freakish fiancée was such a catch. She was probably only marrying him for the old money he apparently had, being some sort of Lord of the Freaks. Well, Petunia had found someone better! She had managed to find Vernon Dursley, a good, normal man with high prospect in the business world. Only problem was, Petunia wasn't the only one interested in the massive man.

The ritual had jumped into her head. Stupid little slut, trying to steal her Vernon! At first, she'd scoffed. She wouldn't sink to the same unnatural freakishness that had haunted her life ever since her sister got that stupid letter. She wouldn't. But … it was like the possibility of the ritual wouldn't leave her mind, and as the little whore (Petunia didn't even remember her name anymore) kept throwing herself at her Vernon, and worse, it seemed to be working! Vernon was noticing the trollop, eyeing her better-than-Petunia's assets. They'd gone out, even!

As all Petunia's dreams seemed to be crumbling, it was like the ritual kept whispering in the back of her mind. Afterall, she wasn't Lily. She wasn't as smart, or as pretty, or as special. If she was going to get her Vernon, she'd have to fight for him. It would be so easy, seemed to whisper in her mind. Just gather a few supplies, mostly perfectly normal herbs. Steal some hair. Chant a little …

They never figured out where the slutty little whore-trollop had disappeared to, either.

She gingerly reached into the box and took out the stone. It was smooth and black, with tarnished silver runes which seemed to suck all the light out of the immediate vicinity. Just holding the thing gave her shivers, and if she'd had no other proof that all those magical freaks should be obliterated from the Earth, this would be enough. It just felt wrong. But, it was evening the playing field, wasn't it? It was her safety net, her way to fight back, to keep the freaks from ruining her good, normal life.

Setting it aside, she picked up the old tome laying beneath it, then pulled out the remaining ingredients she'd need for the ritual. A couple of hours to replace a few which had become too old, a couple more to find a good, quiet place to perform it, and the little freak-spawn would end up in the deepest, darkest pit the spell could find. Now, it would save her family from her freak of a nephew. She slowly opened the tome and began preparing for the ritual.

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Locked in his cupboard, five-year-old Harry James Potter curled in upon himself. It wasn't his fault! It was Dudley who tried to make "Harry Hunting" more violent than usual, and it was Dudley who chose to do it while Uncle Vernon was expecting his boss to show up. And he had no idea what had happened after that. He'd just wanted to get away, to keep Dudley from beating up on him. When Dudley had cornered him … all he really remembered was glass breaking and screaming, and then Uncle Vernon's boss was saying Uncle Vernon was fired.

Harry just lay there, sniffling. Eventually he opened his eyes, as he felt the queerest feeling. It started slowly, just a strange heaviness. Then it got bigger, and heavier, and it tightened. Harry tried to thrash, struggling to breathe, but he couldn't. He couldn't get enough air. Was this what Penny Smith felt when she had one of her asthma attacks? If so, he felt terribly sorry for Dudley always picking on her. Well, more than he had before, anyway. Then it felt like something was trying to grab him, to pull him down, to crush him into his own cot. He tried to scream, but he still had no breath. Blackness seemed to rise up around him, or maybe he was sinking into it. He didn't know, and he still couldn't breathe! And it hurt!

Help me! His mind screamed as he thrashed, trying to grab onto something, anything, to keep himself from drowning in the darkness. Help me! HELP ME HELPMEHELPMEHELPME!

But no one came. No one saved him, and the darkness finally engulfed him.

When the darkness cleared from the cupboard beneath the stairs, there was no sign of the myopic green-eyed boy with messy, black hair. All that was left was a cot, a blanket, and some broken toys.

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It took all of an hour, and Petuna felt as if she'd been run over by a truck, but it was done. The stupid little freak would never bother them again. She and Vernon would figure out what to tell the neighbors, and their lives could get back to blissful normality.

Good riddance.