The Dark Side of Magic Chapter 1 (Never Alone) (Patreon)

Summary: Harry gets tired of his relatives treating him like dirt, but one day, Vernon is angrier than ever, and just as Harry is at his lowest, a voice in his head tells him to use the 'Force,' and Harry sends Vernon flying. But how did he do that? And who is Anakin Skywalker?

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To everyone who lived on Privet Drive, there was nothing special about the place. The place was clean, and one could never find a single leaf on the street during the Autumn. They made sure their lawns were well-kept and the streets were clean. Every time a car would drive through the streets, they would notice how clean the place was, and many people stopped just to take a look at the place.

People knew each other in this place; they knew the names of their neighbors and how many children they had and didn't have. Everyone who lived on this street knew everyone who lived there.

Everyone was familiar with one another.

But one night, it all changed. Petunia Evans Dursley woke up at six in the morning. She knew her little angel would need her soon enough, but this morning, it was different. Usually, little Dursley would wake up crying at four in the morning; sometimes, he would cry so much that even the neighbors across the street could hear them. But not this morning.

Petunia was relieved that her little angel was still sleeping. Feeling better already, she walked downstairs, ready to start the day by cleaning the kitchen and preparing breakfast for Vernon. As she was preparing the breakfast, she heard a faint noise. For a moment, she wondered if her little angel was crying upstairs, but after checking on him again, he was still sleeping.

She then wondered if she hadn't slept enough or if she was too tired, but after she walked downstairs again, she heard it again, louder this time.

Petunia walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway. The sound was louder now—it sounded like a baby crying. She quickly realized it was coming from the front door. Striding towards it, she unlocked the door with the key. Upon opening it, a basket was on the 'Welcome' sign before the door. Inside this basket, wrapped in blankets, was a crying baby.

Petunia looked around, but surprisingly, none of the other neighbors had woken up, not even Mister Damstel, who always heard Dudley crying. She kneeled down and only now noticed the envelope placed on top of the baby's chest.

She picked up the envelope and opened it, pulling out the letter. She read the front. It was addressed to her and her husband. She opened the folded letter and read the content.

A gasp escaped her throat when she read whose child—No freak he was, the letter slipped from her fingers, and for a moment, she wondered if it would be better to call the police. They would know what to do with him, send him to the orphanage, who cares as long as he is as far away as possible.

She knew her freak sister had married but never imagined she would make more freaks and multiply. The world already had enough of them, and now there was one more. She was ready to close the door and tell Vernon to call the cops. But Petunia knew how dangerous the freaks were and what could happen if she disobeyed them. Disobey him... Right...Dumbledore. That was his name; she remembered sending him a letter when she was younger and foolish.

She knew they could hide in plain sight; she flinched when she heard a door upstairs.

"Petunia, did you make my breakfast?" She heard Vernon upstairs, and at that moment, she grabbed the basket and walked inside with the freak in her hands; he was still crying and quite cold to the touch.

Her sister was dead; she read that much in the letter, and a part of her felt grief for her, but then she remembered what she was, what they all were. And what this child in her hands was.

After that day, The Dursleys had one more child to worry about. The neighbors asked questions, and she told them it was her sister's child and that she had died in a car crash with her drunk husband; many had sent their condolences, but Petunia had not allowed herself to grief, after all, her sister had dropped her son to her lap, and now she was supposed to take care of him, she already had her hands full with one of them, and having two of them crying.

She knew she really had no choice on this matter; she knew what the freaks were capable of doing; she remembered her sister boasting about it every year during the summer when she arrived back from that cursed school. Petunia knew if she sent the freak to an orphanage, someone from them would bring back the baby freak to them, and this time, they might not be as gentle; she shuddered at the thought that they might even use their freakiness to play with her mind and maybe even enslave her and her family, so despite Vernon's complaints, they would raise him.

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Three years later, rumors spread that Harry Potter was a troublemaker child in Privet Drive. Petunia made sure to tell anyone that her nephew was a nightmare to deal with and would often bully her poor angel, Dudley. The neighbors made sure to tell their kids not to play with the freak, as sometimes Petunia called him.

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When Harry turned six, his family told him he needed to attend school. He didn't know what school was, but the thought of not being at home with them was a welcoming one. He didn't know how that would work yet, but he was excited. Almost as excited as he was on his birthdays when they gave him the best gift.

Ignoring him for the whole day. Even Vernon ignored him.

When the class started, Harry had asked the teacher what a school was, and everyone laughed at him, including the teacher. But then she explained what a school was and what he was expected to do there.

Harry had tried to make friends. He didn't know what a friend was, but according to the dictionary, a friend was someone who could make him feel less lonely; the thought of having someone to talk with sounded good.

On the first day, he talked with three boys of his year and remembered walking back home happier than ever. However, upon returning home, he made a mistake he should have never made.

When he returned, Dudley had made fun of him, lying about how his day had gone terribly wrong. In a fit of anger, Harry had shouted that he had made friends despite them telling him that he would never have friends. Seeing their shocked faces at that time had felt good. For the first time, he had won in a way, but Harry would soon regret that.

The following day, he sat at the same desk as yesterday and excitedly waited for his new friends to meet with him. However, Harry had to watch as all three sat at other desks; they didn't even look at him. Harry tried to talk with them throughout the whole day, but they ignored him. They would just walk away, leaving Harry behind, feeling like he had done something wrong.

He had cornered one of them the same day, asking if he had done something wrong to earn their anger, but Lucas told him that his parents didn't want him in Harry's company.

Harry realized that his relatives had done this out of spite. It was bad enough that they had him work so many hours every day, sleep in the cupboard, and eat only twice a day during the weekend and once a day during the rest of the week, but they also took away his friends.

That day, in another fit of anger, Harry made another mistake. He yelled at his relatives, called them names, and disobeyed their orders.

That night would live in Harry's mind for a long time. He still remembered the pain. Vernon had slapped him before, but it was never anything he couldn't just shrug off after a few minutes, but that night.

The pain hadn't gone away after minutes, not after hours, not even after whole months passed. He could still feel it on his body, reminding him of what would happen if he disobeyed again. So Harry had done what he needed to do. He had promised himself never to be bad but only good.

After that night of beating, as if a gate had opened, Vernon's anger and how often he hit Harry grew more often. It used to be two slaps per week, but that turned into ten slaps per week.

Even Dudley started mistreating him, calling him a 'Freak' like his family always did. Harry was so used to that nickname that he sometimes forgot that his real name was Harry Potter, not 'The Freak.'

But Harry still didn't want to give up. He had seen how the others in his class were split into groups: the students with good grades, the funny students, and the students with bad grades.

Harry had paid close attention and quickly figured out from the way they talked and treated one another that he wanted to be in the smart group.

So, Harry started reading, reading, reading, and reading some more.

So much so that he would stay until midnight in his cupboard reading his books. Thankfully, Dudley wasn't one who liked reading, so he never noticed when his books were missing. The Dursleys had bought books for Harry, but only half of them, so Harry had no choice but to take what he was missing from Dudley, and he would always make sure to return them before falling asleep; he didn't want to imagine what would happen if they found him with Dudley's books. His little body shuddered in pain at the thought of that night repeating again.

It wasn't noticeable at first, but after a month, the school noticed Harry's change in grades. He still remembered the first time the teacher praised him for being the only one in the class to answer a question that no one else knew. Harry had felt good that moment; that feeling had been something he had never felt before. And Harry had wanted more of that feeling, and soon, he was no longer reading more to make new friends, but he started liking it more and more. Maybe it was because he had no friends, but sometimes he found himself talking to the books as if they were his friends.

"So, how are you doing biology?" Harry had asked one night before opening the book and reading. Months passed, and thankfully, his relatives either hadn't noticed that he was doing better in school or didn't care; Harry didn't know and didn't really care as long as they did not try to do something again.

However, six months after he started studying more, Harry quickly went up through the ranks in the school, and many teachers there started praising him.

Being the best boy student in his class, he soon became the best student in the class, and then some teachers even told him that he was better than some top students in higher classes. Every time they praised him, the feeling he got became the only thing he enjoyed in his life, and learning more became the only thing he enjoyed.

But one day, the teachers told everyone in class that since the end of the summer was near, they would need to call someone from their family for a meeting to discuss their grades and their behavior during the year.

Harry and Dudley had gone to school with Aunt Petunia. The teachers had first covered the troublemakers, including Dudley. Harry still remembered Aunt Petunia's face when they told her that Dudley's grades were horrible and that he was messing around the school with his friends, but that anger had turned into rage when the teachers started praising Harry.

Harry almost begged the teachers, with his eyes, not to say anything about him. He had even tried to distract the teachers somehow and make them go past him and not talk about him, but he failed. He had to stand there and hear as the teachers praised him for his good grades. If possible, his aunt's face looked like it was boiling when the teachers said that Harry was better than some excellent students up to three years older than him.

Their ride home was quiet, but Harry could almost hear his aunt's thoughts. Once they returned home. His aunt told him to go to his Cupboard and stay there. Harry had done so and had run inside. He had waited for them, and once Vernon returned, he prepared himself for the pain; he knew he would get beaten again.

He heard the sound of the door unlocking from the other side, and Vernon's red face appeared.

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Harry didn't remember much of what happened. Sometimes, he wondered if it was all a dream, but the pain had felt too real to be a dream.

'You Dare Humiliate Our Son!'

The words still ring in his ears to this day, even in his dreams. Harry could still hear his words. But somehow, despite the pain, what hurt more than anything was what Vernon had told him.

'From now on you are never to get such grades ever again. If I hear that you humiliated my boy again. What I did tonight will look like a walk in the park. You are not to answer questions; you will no longer get projects, you will no longer draw better than my son, you are never to do anything better. From now on, you will be back to the bottom where you belong.'His uncle had shouted hatefully as Harry breathed heavily, trying to ignore the pain.

'So, right where your son is right now.' Harry wanted to say it wasn't his fault that his cousin was only good at stuffing his face with food, like a vacuum cleaner always eating trash.

But Harry had said none of that; he knew what would happen if he did. Instead, he nodded in defeat.

After that day, Harry's grades started dropping once again. The teachers asked what was wrong and why he wasn't studying as hard, but Harry said nothing. He knew what would happen if he said anything.

A month after the beating, Harry was once again locked in his cupboard. He felt his tummy hurt, and he tried to read the book resting on his lap to ignore it. Despite not being able to get good grades anymore, Harry still made sure to study like he always did; he just made sure not to get better grades than Dudley.

As he was reading, his stomach churned, and Harry looked at the locked door. He didn't know why, but he pushed his hand towards the door, trying to imagine that it would open. The hinges creaked loudly, and the door pushed itself forward until it hit the wall.

Harry was left with his mouth wide open at what had just happened.

That night, he tried to do it again, but no matter how many times he tried, nothing similar happened. Soon, he gave up and decided to fill his belly. After eating just enough food to not be noticed, Harry made sure to cover his tracks.

The next day, Vernon demanded to know why he had broken the door, but Harry convinced him otherwise.

'Uncle Vernon. Yesterday, there was an ad on television about doors, I even heard you say that not even a grown man can break down my door before you locked it. I'm only six, and you think I can kick down a door. Last night, I heard footsteps coming from the hallway, but I thought it was one of you, so I didn't pay much attention before falling asleep.' Harry had said, and that had convinced Vernon that someone had tried to rob the house. This was followed by five months of him staying guard until one in the morning. Eventually, he gave up.

Three Years Later

Another day, a new school day. Harry found himself running for his life again. His cousin Dudley and his gang of bullies had started another round of Harry Hunting almost as soon as the school day had ended. Harry was usually quite good at avoiding capture, but Dudley's bumbling horde had unwittingly caught him in a daydream about enjoying the pleasant early June weather with a quiet picnic by a lake. It had been one of those rare good days at school without trouble from either Dudley's gang or teachers until he was on the verge of being caught by his bullies.

Young Harry even felt good about the exams he had taken that day for History and Science, two of his favorite subjects. Harry shook off his reverie so that he could focus on escaping. Unfortunately, in his lack of focus, Harry had run himself into a dead end behind the school kitchens. He was silently cursing his situation of being a 9-year-old who constantly put up with bullying and abuse everywhere he turned.

Clearing his mind again, Harry stood still to listen for Dudley's approach while quietly looking around for escape options. However, he soon realized he had nowhere to go.

"We found you, freak. You have nowhere to go." Dudley said with a smug smile as he approached Harry, who refused to show fear, especially in front of someone like Dudley, who was bigger than him and also felt the need to bring his fellow idiots with him; not much of a surprise.

Dudley hurled Harry unrelentingly, causing his body to collide harshly with the floor's surface. A metallic tang coated his lips. The icy touch of the cold floor seeped into his skin. Dudley planted his boot firmly atop Harry's chest, applying just enough pressure. Amid agony, Harry's groans of pain mingled with his desperate attempts to dislodge the oppressive weight.

Suddenly, Harry glared at him viciously, wishing he wasn't here. If only Dudley was somewhere else.

The moment he thought, Dudley disappeared, like vanishing out of thin air. Harry blinked several times; he was sure his eyes were playing games with him, but no matter how many times he closed and opened his eyes, Dudley wasn't there. The bullies left looked at Harry, horrified, and slowly backed away from him like they were afraid of him.

"What did you do to him, Freak?" one asked with a shaking voice as Harry stood on his feet. He didn't know what to say. Looking at his hands, he knew being able to talk with snakes was one thing, but making people disappear—Harry had never done that before.

"HELP!" They all heard Dudley scream outside. Everyone quickly ran outside to see him on top of the roof, his legs shaking, his face paler than snow. Harry could feel the looks Dudley's friends were giving him. He still didn't know how he did it. How can someone disappear like that and appear somewhere else?

How? Harry thought, knowing this was similar to what he had done to a toy once. Last year, they had brought Dudley a toy that Harry liked too much. During the night, he had wished the toy to be his, only to hear a sound like rippling water. When he looked to his right, the toy was right there.

Harry watched silently, knowing Petunia and Vernon would be furious with him. They always called him a freak, and now that he made Dudley disappear and appear on the roof, he knew they wouldn't be happy.

Dudley was quickly 'saved' when someone climbed to the roof and brought him down. When Petunia arrived and was informed of what had happened, she looked at Harry with loathem; he wondered if she was ready to explode, considering how red her face had become.

The bullies tried to say that Harry had made Dudley disappear on the roof, but no one believed them, calling them stupid. When they asked Dudley himself, he was scared out of his mind. The only words that came out of his mouth were incoherent mumbles, but strangely, Petunia tried to distract them and told them that his son loved to climb on roofs sometimes. Dudley was then told not to do something like that again.

Once the school day ended, his aunt told Harry to enter the car. Once inside, she gave the nastiest look she could muster. He still didn't know how he did that; he knew it wasn't normal, but that had saved him; that's all that matters.

"We give you food every day. We allow you to live in our house, we buy you clothes, and this is how you repay us." Petunia spoke the words with venom.

"What do you have to say for yourself, freak?" That word again, and he felt his eyes burning again; all he had ever wanted was for her to look at him the same way she looked at Dudley, but she never did.

"...I'm sorry." Harry didn't know what else to say; he knew fighting back would end with him in pain once again.

If possible, Petunia's face turned redder than ever before.

The ride back was spent in silence. Harry couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. He still didn't understand how he had made Dudley disappear like that, but one thing he knew: He wanted to learn how to do it every time he needed to.

Harry knew what would happen; he knew he would get beaten again, and there was nothing he could do. He could almost feel the wood against his skin; he knew it would hurt, but he hoped it wouldn't hurt as much this time.

Once he walked inside, Petunia grabbed him by the wrist firmly, so much so that it started hurting, but Harry knew better than to fight back as she dragged him inside. She opened the cupboard door and threw him inside.

Pain shot through his head as the door was slammed closed, and the sound of the door being locked was heard. When Petunia threw him inside, Harry realized his head had hit the door frame. He reached up and touched something wet and warm. He looked at his hand to see his fingertips had turned red.

Harry winced as he tried to calm his heart. It felt like it would burst out of his chest, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't. He knew what would happen; he knew it was over. He would get beaten again, and this time, it would be much worse.

'Someone. Anyone. Please Help Me.' Harry pleaded as he hugged himself, closing his eyes, trying to imagine himself somewhere far away, somewhere where he was safe and happy.

Harry heard the sound of shattering glass; he wondered if Petunia had dropped something in the kitchen when someone spoke.

'Do not be afraid of him.' Harry almost screamed when he heard that voice. He looked around. He knew the cupboard wasn't big enough for two people, but he still looked at every corner. But there was no one there.

Did I imagine that? Is this why everyone calls me a freak? Harry wondered out loud. He quickly decided that it was just his mind playing games with him. He absolutely didn't hear someone talking to him.

'I'm very much real, Harry, and I'm talking to you right now,' the voice spoke again, and Harry almost froze in place. He swallowed thickly; this sounded too real to be just his imagination playing tricks on him.

Harry glanced around furtively before speaking. "Can you hear me? Are you inside my head?" he asked, still feeling a little strange for talking like this to someone who might be a creation of his imagination.

'No need for that, Harry. Just think of what you want to say, and I will hear it. It's much better, otherwise people will think you have gone mad.' The voice spoke again, and Harry felt better after hearing him again.

'Who are you? How are you talking to me?' Harry asked, a little worried; he knew how dangerous it was to talk with strangers. The Dursleys had made sure to tell him many times that strangers would tend to act like they were his friend, but in the end, they all would stab him in the back; even the police could not be trusted; the Dursleys had told him of cases where murderers and kidnappers had disguised themselves as police.

'I'm not a backstabber, Harry, and I will answer your questions, but right now, you need to do something else. The guy that looks like Jabba, you need to protect yourself from him.' Harry didn't know who this 'Jabba' was, but he figured the voice was talking about Vernon.

'I cannot do anything. I'm weak.' Harry said in his head almost tearfully, knowing the pain he would experience.

'You are not weak, Harry. You are far from it. You have The Force with you. You are never weak. I'm sure of that. You just need to learn how to use it, ' the voice in his head said, sounding quite proud of what he said, but Harry grew more confused.

"The Force, what is that? Are you saying I can do magic or something?" Harry questioned, completely forgetting that he should not talk out loud.

'We don't have time for me to explain everything, but listen to this, have you ever had a moment in your life when you made things move with your mind?'

Harry quickly remembered the two times this had happened; one time, he had been very hungry, but the bread had been placed too high for his reach. Harry remembered the thing flew to his hand, but he had been sure that it must have been a dream. Another time, Dudley and his friends had been playing football, and Harry had been watching. He had focused on the ball, and suddenly, the ball had just launched itself right at Dudley's face. And the time he had broken down the door.

'What am I supposed to do?' Harry quickly asked with a sense of urgency. He knew Vernon would return home within three hours, and whether or not 'The Force' could really help him, he needed to give it a try. He had no other options.

'Alright, listen well.'

Three Hours Later

'It's not working!' Harry started panicking. He kept trying to do what the voice told him, but nothing was working.

'I need you to focus on what you want to do, don't just push out your hand-' Suddenly, the two heard the sound of a car stopping in front of the house. Harry knew Vernon had come, and he would get beaten up.

'I'm scared.' Harry cried in his mind.

'Hey, do not be scared. You got this. Now, look at that plate again, and move it. NOW.' Harry threw his hand blindly, almost in rage, and the plate flew across the cupboard before shattering on the wall.

Harry almost couldn't believe he had just done that. He was about to shout in joy when a scream was heard in the house. Before he realized it, the cupboard door was unlocked, and Vernon's hand quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him outside.

"YOU FREAK. YOU DARE HURT MY SON. I WARNED YOU WHAT WOULD HAPPEN!!" Vernon screamed in rage, his face red like blood as he grabbed Harry by the throat and opened the door that led to the common room before throwing him roughly on the ground.

'Harry, remember what I told you.' The voice echoed in his mind as Vernon unbuckled his belt, ready to beat him, and strode towards Harry as he crawled away in fear, his heart ringing like a bell as he pushed his hand forward.

He expected to feel the belt on his skin, but instead, he watched as Vernon was thrown across the entire room before slamming against the wall; he heard a Snap sound as Vernon stopped floating and fell on the floor.

Harry breathed heavily, his heart still beating fast. Did he just do that? Suddenly, the door opened, revealing Petunia.

"OH MY GOD. WHAT DID YOU DO YOU FRE-" "Stand Back." Harry shouted in anger as he stood up, he didn't know where he got the strength, the resolve, the will, but after so many years, he was the one in charge of the situation as he pointed his open hand at his piss poor excuse of an aunt.

'Harry, your eyes, you have to calm down.' But Harry didn't listen to him, not this time. As he glared at his aunt, she looked frightened—more frightened than she ever had—and slowly backed away while he kept walking towards her.

Suddenly, they heard groaning, and he turned to look at Vernon slowly standing up. He looked shaken, and Harry watched as Vernon's eyes widened with rage when he looked at Harry.

"You Bastard. I will!" CRASH!!

"Stop It. Enough." His aunt cried out in panic as Vernon's face fell on the floor; a trail of blood ran down his forehead to his chin; the plate fragment had pierced his skin, and the rest of the fragments had scattered on the floor. She quickly ran up to her husband, kneeling to his level and still looking at Harry, looking anxious and frightened.

"If you ever beat me, if you ever think of doing something bad to me again, if you even lay a finger on me. I will not stop. Do you hear me, Petunia?" Harry shouted with rage as she cried out in terror.

"We will leave you alone. You will never hear a word from us again. We will let you be." She promised frantically, and only then did Harry lower his hand. His heart still felt like it would just burst from his chest, but as he walked back to his cupboard, he reminded himself that he would need a better room, perhaps tomorrow.

The feeling he felt. Harry felt Good. After so many years, Vernon was the one feeling pain, not him.

'Did you see what I did?' Harry asked excitedly, almost jumping out of joy. There was a moment of silence, and for a moment, he wondered if the voice was gone when he spoke again.

'I saw it, good job, young... Padawan.' The voice sounded proud for him, and Harry felt even more joy. The smile wasn't going away, and he didn't want to. He wanted to feel like as often as possible.

'Padawan?' Harry questioned.

'I will explain later, Harry. But I will be honest: the Force is strong in you. You might even be as good as...Ahsoka.' Harry didn't know who she was, and the name sounded quite strange to him.

'Are you a teacher?' Harry asked, still smiling in joy.

'...Why are you asking?'

'The way you explained it to me, you sounded like a teacher, like Mister Duck, he is the best teacher back at the school.'

'I used to teach others.' The voice sounded sad to Harry.

"What happened?" The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He was met with silence until he heard him again.

'That's not important. And Try not to let your emotions win over you like that again. You protected yourself, and that's good, but you should be more in control.' The voice spoke, and Harry listened to his every word; he still remembered the feeling he got when he threw Vernon; a feeling of euphoria spread in him like wildfire. He had never felt as strong as he felt in that moment.

'I understand, Mister...ahhh.... You never told me your name, or should I just call you 'Master'?' Harry questioned, and he was sure he heard the man chuckle slightly.

'I don't need you to call me Master, you can call me by my name... Anakin Skywalker.'

Note: In this story, Harry will be with three female characters. Let me know which ones he should be with, or maybe with only one female character.

So Anakin just introduced himself to Harry, but what will happen when Force and Magic are together and used at the same time? What can Harry do, and what did Anakin mean when he said, 'Harry, your eyes, you have to calm down?' 

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