A Controlled Environment

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**Harry Potter

Petunia opened her mouth, intending to scream so that others would come to her aide, but no sound emerged. There wasn't even a noise provoked by the hard puff of air leaving her lungs as if she truly had screamed.

See, Harry, the dear considerate boy that he was, had placed a silencing charm on his Auntie Dearest so that they were no bother to the others around them. After all, what would the neighbors think if they heard screams coming from the Dursley household? After all, no freakishness was allowed beneath their roof.

He slid gracefully from his stool and landed neatly on his feet, his knees bending the slightest degree to cushion the impact. It was a good deal more impressive if one took into account the comparatively small stature of Harry and then the distance of the seat from the floor. For a child such as him, one had to wonder where he'd learned such poise, after all, he'd spent his entire life with his eyes downcast and shoulders hunched forward in futile protection.

Casually, Harry sauntered over to his aunt, with his false smile slipping by increments from his face, and his arms swaying lightly by his sides.

When he got within five feet of her, she took a stumbling step back, almost tripping over her stupid yellow dressing gown in the process. Harry was unimpressed by this action, and made a slight swirling motion with his finger.

Immediately, she stopped moving, her body going rigid with her arms pinned to her sides as a silent petrificous totalous took hold of her and forced her into a painfully upright position.

Moving ever closer, Harry allowed a true piece of himself to come through his glamour. It had never been revealed to the Dursleys that Harry used a glamour, not once. He himself hadn't even known he was wearing a glamour. It felt so nice to do this.

His right eye seemed to melt away from the dull green of Evan's to an endless black in seconds. Harry had allowed the slow releasing of it because the feeling of a weight falling off his shoulders was so soothing. This lightening of his core had only heightened his anticipation for the events to come.

The newly revealed eye was true black with no shine to it at all. It had not an inkling of light in it, but when looked into, one had the distinct impression of endless night and shimmering stars. Harry didn't understand how, seeing as there was no light to be had in the obsidian pit, but it managed nonetheless.

He drew to a halt a foot from his aunt and frowned. No, he'd not bring about Petunia's end now. He'd much rather have each Dursley forced to witness the other's punishments.

Efficiently performing a body bind hex on Petunia, Harry teleported her onto the couch in the living room and out of his sight. He wasn't sure why he'd used the muggle term for apparition, but seeing as how he'd not been with her as she moved through the folds of space, it just seemed to work better.

Vernon would be down in about half an hour, and Dudley would usually make his was down about four hours after that. Harry would wait the half hour, as he still had plenty to do and thought it best to have a precomposed plan of the next few days, but he had no patience to pander towards his overfed pig of a cousin. When he'd finished setting Vernon up next to his wife, he'd call Dudley down and awake with magic.

Now, what to do until Vernon was up. . .

Plotting would be useful, it was certainly necessary if he wished for his various ventures to succeed, but which element ought he to focus in on first? Money perhaps?

If he wanted to, he supposed he could simply create it using magic, it would be the simplest method, but he didn't like the idea much. It seemed petty and far too easy to satisfy him. Sure, if he was in a pinch he could use that method, but what he really wanted was something long term, that would provide him with both experience and information.

Harry knew that at school he could find out whatever he wished to on the light side, but what of the dark? Surely, their children would not know all the most pertinent details, for their parents at least must be aware of the liar's mind snooping. Also, it would help him keep up with other issues. The liar was far too self-obsessed to collect all information that would be useful.

Yes, he'd need to establish some sort of connection to the dark side. Maybe some kind of nightclub? Harry was well aware that simply declaring his adult self to be affiliated with the dark was not going to be enough, and that approaching the dark would surely make him out to be a spy of some kind. This meant they would have to come to him.

From being in so many minds as a baby, he was well aware of prejudices and the stigma against supernatural creatures that were as intelligent as humans (let's be real, likely far more intelligent). They were treated as lower society at best in the cases of werewolves and some subspecies of vampires, and like monsters at worst, when people would hunt them down for sport.

With an idea forming in the back of his mind, Harry pushed forward. Maybe. . . If he started a nightclub, and made it only accessible to those who meant no ill will towards the club and it's patrons, to those who would never rat it out, it could be geared for the darker elements of society.

Vampires, elves, nymphs, selkies, nixies, pixies, werewolves, goblins, centaurs, lesser demons. . . Oh gosh, there were so many that were discriminated against, and that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg! He'd make it open to all who would not do it harm, and maybe that would be enough of a lure to trap a few death eaters.

Of course, the club would have to be totally anonymous, Harry couldn't have people fighting in petty personal feuds now could he! He'd iron those details out when he had more time and something to write on. As to his frequent frustration, his memory wasn't eidetic.

All the discrimination against them meant that there were few places that catered to their sect, and from what he'd picked up when mind skimming, none at all that were upper-class. At least, none that weren't purely private and impossible for every day folk with a little extra to get into. Remus Lupin had been quite the useful font of information when it came to werewolves.

Harry could afford upper class. He might not have inherited anything from Lily and James Potter because they loved Evan so much they wanted to give him everything, but he had no qualms against magicking himself some money to have a good startup. No way was this going to be some nasty little hole in the wall.

First thing was first though. As soon as the Dursleys became a non issue, he'd need to make an identity for his adult persona at Gringotts. To do that properly, he'd have to study goblin customs as best he could, and make sure to leave a good impression.

He could distinctly recall in every memory he had of Gringotts the looks of supreme distaste that all the goblins aimed at wizards. He intended not to be so heinous to them seeing as how much easier they could make life for him and that he knew it was the wizard's own faults for not treating them with respect. They had a culture too, and it deserved to be recognized.

Now he needed to get some information on how one ought to properly behave around a goblin. Focusing hard, Harry actually decided to use a verbal spell to ensure his success.

"Accio Customs and Mannerisms as Dictated by Proper Goblin Etiquette by Renurial L. Farwatch."

He hadn't used verbal spells often, usually on account that it was so much easier for him to simply structure his thoughts and send a trickle of magic into them. In this case though, he himself had never seen the physical book, and had no honest idea as to what was inside it.

Where had he seen it? Oh, the title had been seen in. . . Ah, it had been the liar's mind. Dumbledore had scoffed at the idea of treating goblins well because he thought their support wasn't worth much and he could get it simply by dint of being Supreme Mugwump. He didn't think they'd be important to his war.

The only reason that the driver of the enslaved fire bird had remembered it at all was because of the staggering wave of derision he'd felt towards it. Harry wasn't sure why he himself had remembered the book, but he was grateful that he at least had a starting position for this research.

Two seconds later, the massive tomb thumped loudly onto the counter. It was over four inches thick, and a foot tall at least, but Harry didn't mind. That just meant more information he could store away to ponder at a later date if it wasn't immediately applicable.

As he still had an estimated twenty five minutes, he plopped himself back onto the stool, using magic of course, as it would have been phenomenally embarrassing to have to scrabble onto the stool and maneuver into a seated position. He laid the book out in front of him, and opened the dusty volume.

Upon trying to read the first page, he found that despite the title being written in modern English, the actual writing was in Falnock, the language of goblins. Inwardly sighing, he consoled himself by knowing that it surely couldn't hurt to pick up a new language and that he was a very quick study.

Based on his prior experience, (not that he had much, usually he'd just read the mind of someone fluent in another language), he knew that if he read through an English to Falnock dictionary three times, he'd remember every word of it.

Desperately needing that positive reception from the goblins, well, if one wished to be technical, he didn't need one, he wanted one, he absolutely wanted to remember every word.

He thought about all the different words there must be to learn, and with that firmly fixed in his mind, summoned a dictionary for English to Falnock. Harry hadn't bothered to use a spoken directive, he didn't need to be that specific.

A volume that was at least three times the size of his book on proper goblin etiquette crashed onto the counter, causing a massive cloud of dust to puff from it on impact. It clearly had not had a reader in a very long time, much less someone to dust it.

It was thousands of pages in length, and so tall and wide that Harry was sure it would not have lain comfortably in his lap. He was so, so grateful for his quick mind and even quicker memory. By skimming briefly over the page, he'd be able to retain the information, and if he wanted to memorize it, all he'd had to do is focus. This speed allowed him to read far faster than the average person.

After reading the first page, Harry decided that it would only be necessary for him to read through it once, and that he'd just be careful when reading. Also, to make sure he could understand it when spoken and speak Falnock as well, he read every word in Falnock aloud. This would take more time, but it would be beneficial in the long run.

He managed to get through A-E, saying each word and magically checking to make sure he didn't lose any important sounds, even though he was speaking using the pronunciation key.

The language itself sounded to his ears like the hissing tumbling patter of rocks and water, with soft humming and snapping sounds mixed in. He doubted that the average human's throat and vocal chords would be able to produce the words, but with him being so magic permeated, along with being hard wired for parseltongue, Harry knew his pronunciations were spot on.

The reason he'd stopped reading hadn't been that he'd reached F, page 1,016, or that he was ready for a break. No, what had brought him out of his absorbed studiousness was the creak that the bottom step had made as Vernon Dursleys full weight had been applied to it.

Harry had been waiting for this specific cue, in fact, he'd expected it about half an hour ago. It was eight o'clock in the morning, two minutes past if he was being persnickety, and he took the cue to softly close the dictionary.

Turning to face the doorway of the kitchen, he instantly regretted having turned the light on to read. Unlike when Petunia came down, now the light shown brightly and there was no shadowy darkness to protect his poor eyes from the disgusting visage of Vernon Dursley.

He was in red plaid pajama pants, a light gray-blue t-shirt, and a worn gray terry cloth bathrobe. The clothing choices were not what had made his face screw up in disgust though. That specific element of his reaction was caused by his uncle's humongous gut, which hung in fleshly rolls over the waistband of his pants. He truly was morbidly obese, just like his son.

"Hello uncle," Harry said, revulsion dripping so powerfully from his tone that it could have cracked diamond, and a faintly detectable air of sarcasm tracing the word uncle.

Vernon's usually red face went from just red to dark puce, followed by blue, and then went very, very, pale. Harry hadn't bothered to cover his eye again, and it shone as a beacon to how very different he was. Over the years, his accidental bursts of magic had all been rather tame, never more than some flowers changing colors, maybe a few minor explosions, nothing to ever suggest he held a great magical talent.

It was just. . . His eye. . . It was so obviously a sign of more, more power, and far more intelligence than Vernon could ever have guessed at.

Harry had expected his uncle to try and scream at him, to rage and attack, to lash out violently in some way, but no. Instead, their was a sort of bleak understanding in his gaze, Harry thought.

Vernon knew that Harry was out for blood. He knew, and he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop him.

"No words for your dear nephew?" Harry said, pouting slightly, all traces of revulsion gone as he played his next piece.

". . ." Vernon's mouth opened and closed, gaping like a landed fish. After a few seconds with no sound, Harry gave a dramatic sigh, snapped his fingers, and watched as his uncle's body disappeared.

It now was in a body bind hex, frozen next to Petunia on the couch.

Now for Dudley. After all, his time was precious, and he wanted to get his plans set in motion with his 'family'. It was only fair, Harry reasoned, they'd taken care of him these many years, obviously he should give restitution! He'd just take care of them for today.

He walked into the living room, and watched impassively as Dudley fell into place on the couch beside his parents, causing the couch to bow beneath his already hefty weight.

A body bind had been performed on his cousin too, but Harry was finding the setup rather anticlimactic. Instinctively, Harry was hit by the terrible reason that this was not going to result in a satisfactory way for him, and he knew that was dangerous.

It was disappointing him! All of it! His plan was so clear in his mind, his goals even more so. It was even harder for Harry knowing that there must be something he could do. There was, and if he could just put his finger on it!

For his soul to be repaired of the damage done by years of abuse, for it to not be left with exploitable cracks that someone could come along, stick wedges into, and use to break his soul to pieces, he had to be at peace with the conclusion of their lives, and therefore his issues with them.

He had to accept that it was over, because if someone was able to come along and break his soul, he would go insane.

Deep down, Harry was certain that if he went insane, then the Earth would drown in oceans born of his victim's blood. He was simply too powerful. If Harry stopped caring about the repercussions of his actions, he would be an unstoppable monster without compare. He had to bring this to an acceptable close.

Contemplatively, Harry thought, What haven't I considered? What angles are there? Can I try asking younger me?

Hoping that he might be onto something, Harry asked his younger self what he could do. No response, so he continued to ponder. He figured since he didn't know, neither would his younger self, and that he'd just say to think outside the box, that since he had intelligence and magic at his disposal, he should use them to his advantage.

A sudden idea popped into his head, and he developed it until he knew what he could do. In his mind, he had a brilliantly simply and utterly foolproof plan to achieve all his goals and bring about the end he so wished for.

A malicious smile twisted his lips, and he began gathering his magic so that his vision would become reality.