The Growing Divide

The summer air hung thick over Privet Drive, the stillness of the early morning only broken by the faint chirping of birds. Harry sat on the edge of his bed, his wand loosely gripped in his right hand, staring out of the small, dirty window. His mind was elsewhere, far from the quiet, oppressive atmosphere of the Dursleys' house.

Today, he would be leaving for **Diagon Alley**—alone.

Ron and Hermione hadn't written to him. Not a single letter. It didn't surprise him anymore, though. Since the end of the school year, since the battle with Quirrell, everything had changed. He had changed. They hadn't understood it, couldn't understand it. They were still stuck in their childish ideas of friendship, of light and darkness. But Harry knew better now. **Power** was the only thing that mattered.

His thoughts were interrupted by a faint noise—something like a soft pop. Harry's eyes narrowed, his grip on his wand tightening as he looked around the room, his senses heightened. His eyes, ever ready to activate the Sharingan, scanned the room, tracking even the slightest shift in the air.

Then, from the shadows in the corner of his room, a creature emerged.

**Dobby**.

Harry's initial surprise gave way to cold calculation as the house-elf stepped forward, wringing his hands nervously.

"Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked, his voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and fear. "Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts! Dobby has come to warn him—terrible things are going to happen at Hogwarts, terrible things!"

Harry's expression didn't change, but inside, irritation flared. **Another obstacle**. Another distraction. Dobby's arrival was an inconvenience, nothing more, but Harry couldn't afford to let the house-elf interfere with his plans.

He stood slowly, his gaze fixed on Dobby, the red glow of the Sharingan flickering to life in his eyes. The power thrummed beneath the surface, ready to be used.

"Dobby," Harry said, his voice calm but laced with an edge of danger. "Why don't you tell me what's going to happen at Hogwarts?"

Dobby's eyes grew wider, his small body trembling. "Dobby cannot say! Dobby is bound—he cannot speak of the dangers that await Harry Potter! But Dobby must warn him! Harry Potter must not go back!"

Harry stepped forward, his movements smooth and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Dobby. The Sharingan spun slowly, the tomoe within his irises rotating as Harry focused on the house-elf's mind. It would be easy—so easy—to manipulate him, to bend his will.

"You don't want me to go back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dobby shook his head frantically, his hands wringing together as he stared up at Harry with wide, fearful eyes. "No! Dobby must stop Harry Potter! Dobby must—"

"Then you won't," Harry said, his eyes flashing as he activated the **genjutsu**.

The world around them seemed to shift, the air growing heavier as the illusion took hold. Dobby's eyes glazed over for a moment, his frantic movements slowing as the genjutsu wrapped around his mind. Harry could feel the control slipping into place, could feel the house-elf's thoughts bending to his will.

"You're not going back to Hogwarts," Harry said again, his voice low and commanding. "You've already succeeded in stopping me."

Dobby blinked slowly, his wide eyes unfocused as the genjutsu warped his perception of reality. "Dobby... has... stopped Harry Potter..." he mumbled, his voice faint.

Harry nodded, satisfied. The genjutsu had worked perfectly. Dobby believed he had succeeded in his mission, believed that Harry wasn't going back to Hogwarts. It was enough to keep him out of the way, at least for now.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Harry released the house-elf from the illusion. Dobby blinked rapidly, his eyes refocusing as he looked up at Harry with a mixture of confusion and relief.

"Dobby... Dobby is glad Harry Potter will stay safe!" Dobby said, his voice trembling with emotion. "Dobby must go now... Dobby must go..."

Without another word, the house-elf disappeared with a soft pop, leaving Harry alone in his room once more. The silence returned, but this time, it was accompanied by a sense of satisfaction. Dobby wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Harry stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at the Dursleys as they bustled around the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was busy preparing breakfast, her lips pressed into a thin line as she avoided looking in Harry's direction. Uncle Vernon sat at the table, reading the morning paper with his usual scowl, while Dudley shoveled food into his mouth, oblivious to everything around him.

It was a typical morning at Number Four, but today, Harry had no intention of sticking around.

He needed to get to Diagon Alley, and he wasn't going to let the Dursleys stop him. Not that they could anymore—not with the power of the Sharingan at his disposal.

As he descended the stairs, his movements deliberate and controlled, he could feel the tension in the air. Aunt Petunia stiffened as she caught sight of him, her hands trembling slightly as she continued to slice the bread. Uncle Vernon's eyes flicked up from his paper, his expression darkening as he glared at Harry.

"What do you want, boy?" Vernon grunted, his voice thick with disdain.

Harry didn't respond immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch, his gaze locking onto his uncle's eyes. The Sharingan flared to life once more, the red glow casting an eerie light over the room. Vernon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his bravado faltering as Harry took a step closer.

"I need to go to Diagon Alley," Harry said, his voice calm but firm.

Uncle Vernon's face turned an even deeper shade of purple, his fists clenching around the edges of the newspaper. "You're not going anywhere, boy. You'll stay right here where you belong."

Harry's lips curled into a cold smile. He had expected resistance, but it didn't matter. The Dursleys were no match for him anymore.

Without another word, Harry activated the genjutsu once again, his gaze fixed on his uncle. The air around them seemed to ripple as the illusion took hold, wrapping around Vernon's mind like an invisible chain. The man's expression slackened, his eyes glazing over as the genjutsu took control.

"You're going to take me to Diagon Alley," Harry said softly, his voice laced with power.

Vernon's head bobbed slightly, his movements slow and mechanical. "Take you to Diagon Alley..."

Aunt Petunia, who had been watching the exchange in terrified silence, let out a small gasp as she saw her husband's dazed expression. But Harry ignored her. She would fall in line soon enough.

"And you won't ask any questions," Harry added, his eyes flicking to Aunt Petunia. "You'll do as I say."

The fear in Petunia's eyes deepened, but she nodded quickly, her hands shaking as she abandoned the bread knife and wiped her hands on her apron. "Yes, of course... of course..."

Harry turned and headed for the door, satisfied that the Dursleys were now completely under his control. They would take him to Diagon Alley, and they wouldn't ask questions. That was all he needed from them.

Diagon Alley was bustling with witches and wizards going about their business, but Harry had no interest in the usual shops and attractions. His gaze was fixed on the darker part of the alley, the narrow passage that led to **Knockturn Alley**.

He had never been there before, but he knew what kinds of things could be found there—dangerous things. Things that would help him grow stronger.

As he stepped into the shadowed alleyway, the sounds of Diagon Alley faded into the background, replaced by the hushed whispers of vendors selling cursed objects and dark artifacts. The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, and Harry's senses were on high alert.

He moved through the alley with purpose, his eyes scanning the shops and stalls for anything of interest. He needed something—anything—that would give him an edge. Dark magic, forbidden spells, artifacts of power.

It wasn't long before he caught sight of a familiar face.

**Draco Malfoy**, standing at the entrance of Borgin and Burkes, flanked by his usual group—**Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Daphne Greengrass**. They were deep in conversation, but Draco's eyes flicked up as he spotted Harry approaching.

For a moment, the Slytherins stared at him in silence, their eyes narrowing as they took in his appearance. Harry knew what they were seeing—the changes in him. He was taller now, his features sharper, more defined. But it wasn't just his physical appearance that had changed. It was the power that radiated from him, the cold, calculating aura that surrounded him.

Draco was the first to speak, his voice laced with curiosity. "Potter. What are you doing here?"

Harry's eyes glinted with the red glow of the Sharingan as he stepped closer. "Looking for things that will make me stronger."

Pansy raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking to Draco as if waiting for him to make the first move. But it was Blaise who spoke next, his voice smooth and calm. "Stronger, huh? You seem... different, Potter."

Harry's lips curled into a faint smirk. "I am different. And I can make you stronger too."

Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

Harry met Draco's gaze, the Sharingan spinning slowly in his eyes. "If you help me, I'll help you. I'll make you strong."

For a moment, the Slytherins exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. But Harry could see the flicker of interest in their eyes. They had always craved power—just like him.

Draco was the first to nod, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, Potter. We'll help you. But this better be worth it."

Harry's smirk widened. "It will be."

Later that afternoon, Harry stood outside **Gringotts**, the towering white building gleaming in the sunlight. The Dursleys were waiting for him outside the Leaky Cauldron, completely unaware of the fact that they had been manipulated into bringing him here.

But Harry's thoughts weren't on the Dursleys anymore. They were on the conversation he was about to have with the goblins. Something had been nagging at him ever since the end of the school year, ever since the whispers in the back of his mind had started to grow louder.

Dumbledore.

The headmaster had always seemed too interested in Harry's life, too controlling. And now, with the power of the Sharingan, Harry could see things more clearly—things that had been hidden from him before.

He stepped into Gringotts, his eyes scanning the marble counters and the bustling goblins as he approached the nearest teller. "I'd like to speak to the account manager for Harry Potter."

The goblin behind the counter looked up at him with a curious expression, but he nodded and led Harry to a private room in the back of the bank. A few moments later, the door creaked open, and the account manager, a goblin named **Griphook**, entered.

"Mr. Potter," Griphook said with a nod. "What can I do for you today?"

Harry wasted no time. "I want access to my accounts. All of them."

Griphook's eyes flickered with something Harry couldn't quite place, but the goblin nodded slowly. "I see. It seems there have been... restrictions placed on your accounts."

Harry's eyes narrowed, the Sharingan flashing. "By who?"

Griphook hesitated for a moment before speaking. "By Albus Dumbledore. He has placed several restrictions on your access to the Potter family fortune. It appears he was acting as your magical guardian."

Harry's blood ran cold. **Dumbledore**. The man who had always pretended to be on his side, who had always spoken of the greater good, had been manipulating him—controlling him.

But no more.

Harry's mind raced, his thoughts sharp and cold as he processed the information. Dumbledore had been keeping him weak, keeping him ignorant, all for his own purposes. But now, Harry knew the truth. And he would not let the headmaster control him any longer.

"I want full access to my accounts," Harry said, his voice icy. "And I don't want Dumbledore involved."

Griphook nodded, his expression serious. "As you wish, Mr. Potter. I will make the necessary arrangements."

Harry stood, his mind already calculating his next move. He would have to be careful around Dumbledore, more careful than ever before. The headmaster had been playing a game with him, but Harry was no longer a pawn.

He was in control now.