Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Carefully Tangled Webs of Darkness	By : Ladygreychaton Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 37460 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter, characters, rights to, any books, movies, songs, poems or references made. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, this is just for fun, with no intentions of profit.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3
[[ Do not own Harry Potter, characters, rights to, any books, movies, songs, poems or references made. ]]
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Harry Potter was not a normal boy, the other residents of Little Whinging, Surrey, often noted. He was too still, too quiet. He didn't kick up a fuss, or ask many questions. He made many a people uncomfortable with his quiet mannerism, but they soon grew accustomed to the strange green-eyed child's way of doing things.

He always wore a button-up shirt, an open vest, black pants and a belt. No matter the weather, no matter the day. His Aunt and Uncle, of Number 4 Privet Drive, both claimed he aspired to be a professional butler. Perhaps to an elderly Lord or Lady, or to someone well-to-do. Either way, most found his elegant habits quite adorable once you became used to his peculiarity.

He was small for his age, many noted. Thin, with hair to the tops of his shoulder blades, tied back with an elegant ribbon. The only time he would remark on it, when questioned why he simply didn't cut it, was that it was too unruly. Shaved heads were simply not proper, and this was the only way he could make his wavy black hair behave.

He had the most unusual sort of eyes, as well. It wasn't the shade, really, though they were such a strange sort of green. But they sharpness of the way they watched you often made many wonder just what that boy saw. The boy was only six, and he could often be seen doing this or that, mostly tagging after his Uncle. The man was overly large, but he was perfectly respectable otherwise.

The boy in question, Harry, flicked his perfectly green eyes towards the hedge brush where Mrs. Figg was watching them, whilst pretending she wasn't. The boy was she she was not as 'normal' as she wanted him to believe. To someone like Harry, he had good instinct. And she felt quite a bit... 'off'.

However, he meekly trotted over to his Uncle and tugged on his sleeve, saying simply, "Figg again, Sir." He was whispering, ever discreet, glancing carelessly about as Dudley wandered about the front yard with a boy named Piers from down the road. The woman with too many cats, was far too invested in young Harry, they'd decided. His uncle was suspicious as well.

Vernon grumbled, putting down the paper he'd been reading, but pasted on a cheery smile before booming out. "Ahh! Arabella! Wonderful day, isn't it...? How are those rosebuds this year?" The large man drew attention the the failing bushes she was hiding in, lacking care, but hiding the woman's gaze which leered out at the magical orphan.

The crazy cat lady, as the kids in the neighborhood were prone to calling her, jumped. Rustling about in the bushes to disentangle herself from the thorns before clambering up to answer, "J-Just fine, Vernon. Just fine... and how's young Harry, today? And Dudley?" The last appeared to be an after thought, and the woman seemed skeptical of something. Though of what, the boy wasn't sure. Harry's eyes narrowed. He only caught a vague impression of dislike.

Vernon gave an 'encouraging' nudge to the boy, and Harry flashed a smile that didn't quite meet the glass green of his eyes. "I am quite well, Mrs. Figg. Thank you kindly for inquiring about me. Dudley is playing today, but I am certain you can find out for yourself if you are curious, though he is well enough if he's out with Piers." He then nodded politely and wandered off, moving to the alley between the houses and pretending a childish disinterest in the exchange of pleasantries adults engaged in.

Vernon roared in boisterous laughter, and Figg twittered nervously. "He's got quite a mouth on him, doesn't he?" Vernon laughed, shaking his head at the boy's ability to be respectful and yet show obvious disdain towards such a nosey neighbor.

"He... certainly does...." Mrs. Figg mumbled to herself, always surprised by how intelligent the boy was. He seemed a bit rude, but perhaps he was simply lonely, living with the muggles without Lily or James. Sighing, the woman tugged her worn overcoat around herself as she folded her arms across herself in a slightly defensive pose. "Say, how did he become so educated? Harry simply sounds so... mature, so much older, you know?" The old squib fished, wanting to see if she could get the man to admit to anything. Surely, all Harry had were books. Somehow, she knew this. "It's a bit odd, I've never heard of a child that young, speaking quite like Harry does."

Vernon thought a moment before answering as he smiled, leaning his bulky frame against the wooden fence. "Well, Arabella... that's all Harry, I'm afraid. He loves to read, dear boy. And I can't really deny him, can I? The boy wants to read, and if he wants books, who am I to say no? Dudley likes his toys and the outdoors. He prefers to play with kids. Harry likes to learn, to read, and to be around adults. Kids are different, and you can't compare them." The man tried to spin it as a doting Uncle would, simply a man who did his best to indulge in whatever either child wanted, but loved them as they were. Individually.

Figg seemed to soften, and the older woman briefly smiled. "Yes, I'd imagine kids are different. Harry must take after his family, or something. I don't suppose his parents were very interested in books? Do you know?" A dark scowl was settling over the man's face, and the woman quickly backpedalled her statements, searching for a way to cover her tracks. If she was exiled from Harry's life, she'd have nothing to report bi-monthly to Dumbledore. "I just mean... would Harry like books for his birthday, perhaps?"

"I don't know much about his family, besides myself and Petunia, Figg," Vernon began gruffly, mustache twitching with annoyance. "And frankly? I don't care. Anyone that goes off, getting themselves killed and then leaves a child on a doorstep with only a note? No doorbell rang, no call, no phone number? No anything besides a brief explanation that they were dead, and we were the boy's only living kin. As far as I know, they didn't even leave any photos or family memorabilia for the boy. No, Figg... as far as I know, the boy's our's now. And that's that."

Vernon paused, pretending to gather his bearing, as though he was protective of his ward, or some such rot. In all honesty, he was merely annoyed at the woman's careful prying. He wasn't sure what she was playing at, but he didn't like it. He didn't like hearing about the Potters, and while he was mildly fond of his project with the boy, he didn't really care about him beyond that. He looked after his health, and cared enough to ensure that nothing went wrong. Truly, he was a good man, he'd decided. But he couldn't very tell the woman that he didn't give a rat's hairy arse about the boy or his deadbeat freaks, now could he?

"As for his birthday..." He continued, heaving a big sigh that made his large chest swell like a bullfrog. "...I'm sure Harry would love a book. I'll have to look at his personal collection and let you know of one he hasn't read, or doesn't already have, how about that?" It was a peace offering, and if the woman knew what was good for her, she'd take it.

Mrs. Figg was startled. Harry had been left on the doorstep? In the middle of the night, during a cold November night with just a note? Dumbledore had not told her this. Well, at least the boy boy seemed well looked after. And though the Uncle seemed a bit off in Harry's upbringing, he didn't seem particularly cruel, nor did he seem to neglect the boy. Figg resolved to watch and wait, as best she could. She's set some of her Kneazles to watch over the house and report back if he was truly in good hands or not. Kneazles were such smart animals, after all. And even a squib like herself could do that much.

So, with a nod, the older woman made her excuses, having promised to look out for the report on Harry's book, and wandered down the lane back to her house. Vernon ambled over to Harry, still crouched in the Alley between, silent and still surrounded by cats.

The boy kneeled with a strange cat-that-wasn't, staring unblinkingly into it's eyes as it stared back. When Vernon asked why, he said, "Because it asked me if I was healthy. I assured it I was, and wondered why it didn't really feel like a cat. It's trying to explain to me why it's not a cat, but is a cat. I don't really understand, though. I think it's something from my Kind, Sir. I think it's spying on me."

Vernon was surprised at how calm the boy was, which now appeared to be copying the movements of the cat. The boy stared, blinked, tilted and moved with the small tabby-look-alike. After a few moments, the boy simply nodded, "Alright. He'll do as I say from now on. He'll come when I call, and report what I say. If another reports something, or senses something... I want it brought to me." The last appeared to be instructed to the Kneazle-cat, which simply blinked, bobbed it's head in a cat sort of nod, or something resembling one, and wandered off back towards it's house with Figg.

Vernon wondered what he should ask first, but began with, "Harry... when did you learn how to control that cat thing?"

Harry looked up at his Uncle. His small pixiee-like face caught the dim-light of the Alley, which was cast in the shadow of the houses, and Vernon was again reminded of how unnaturally perfect his nephew seemed. It was almost as if he was created, or made, and not born. He held a hand out, fingers plucking at the air, as though playing some unseen instrument. His hand, the small pale thing so thin, gestured as the boy spoke, "Mm... we're connected now. Tied. As long as I wish it. I've tied it to my will, like Aunt Petunia talked about... like you instructed. The not-cat has to listen, or it would've reported things to her. Though I wish I could understand why... I don't know why she's so nosey, but I couldn't have her thinking bad things, Sir. She'd likely get the wrong idea if she knew about... about us, Sir." Harry admitted looking shyly down at the grass, and then up through the fringe of his bangs at his Uncle.

The large man was flabbergasted. His nephew was protecting the family? He wasn't worried about anything other than how the nosey neighbor might preceive Vernon's handling of Harry as bad. This was... this was perfect. What a wonderful pet. Vernon smiled gently, his beady eyes showing his delight as he held his beefy hand out to the small child. "Come, boy. Let's go get you a treat. You've done well. We'll get your Aunt and cousin, and make a day of it... later, we'll discuss this 'tying' ability of yours. And how you can use it for me." He chuckled softly. "Maybe you can control other animals, hm? Help your Aunt Marge? Goodness knows Ripper always chews my best shoes. And maybe you'll be able to influence humans, one day... like you did that one time."

As Vernon's voice trailed off, Harry Potter smiled to himself. He was quiet, and he followed, grasping the large, sausage-like fingers of his Uncle. He had not controlled or wished for a human to do as he or Vernon wanted since the day Vernon had asked for it, after all. It was simply too hard. He'd have to build up his stamina. Build up his reserves. Learn how to make the connection. Animals were one thing-- they were considerably less complicated than humans, after all. As Vernon was proposing, he'd begin with cats, and dogs. Then maybe move on to kids, before trying his hands at adults. If he had trouble, perhaps he'd try smaller quarry first. Bugs or something... like the spiders that still slept in his comfortable bed.

He was a good little pet, the shadow that Vernon had wanted. But what Vernon didn't know is that Harry wanted a future, and had plans of his own, too. Plans that did not include serving the Dursleys. Plans that did not include furthering their lives and bothering with their petty whims or living at Number 4 Privet Drive. No, Harry Potter had plans that were just for himself. And beneath that quiet facade, something was changing. He was a shadow, something only seen in the light. The darkness hid shadows completely, after all. They would only know what had gone wrong when he desired them to. Right before they were enveloped in the most delicious black.
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[[ lolol : Thank you! You are right in a way, and yet wrong. He's not quite bleeding memories, and not quite... not bleeding memories. Ahh, to give away or not? I'll be giving enough spoilers, so I think not on that one.
As for how robotic he seemed... when he was hit by the Killing Curse, at least in my Universe, his magic 'woke up'. Magic, in this universe, is a sentient being. And at the moment, it is acting like a sort of... protective guardian. Fighting things, antibodies, horcrux, etc. When he's given the 'commands' by his Uncle, well, that's easily explained. Human nature, can actually force your body to do things by want. If you want to be blind bad enough, you can actually become blind. No rhyme or reason, simply unable to see. Now, give a child magic, and I'd imagine it'd actually take shape or bear fruit. Something like a Placebo effect... only with magic to make it actually happen?
Yes, he'll become far less submissive. But in the beginning, he was simply eager to please. And in a sort of magic-activated state. As he realizes how twisted everything is, and how much power he has and is being forced to use for his handlers, that changes.
Magic having limitations is strange--- Accidental magic doesn't seem to have limitations. Harry apparated as a child, and didn't have to worry about splinching. Canonically, Harry regrew his hair, but wasn't a metamorphagus, and yet it's considered a bloodline only gift. If you're told enough that you cannot do something, you don't try. But if you're not told, and simply try... what can you do? Food for thought. Hopefully others review, and you continue to enjoy the story! ]]
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Carefully Tangled Webs of Darkness