Title: Out of the Darkness

Formally "Out of the Darkness, and Back In" This has been edited for spelling and grammar, as well as consistency. Otherwise it is the same story. Thank you for reading, and don't forget the reviews!

Author: FuriaeIntus

Ficdom: Harry Potter

Spoilers: If you really must know (as I feel it will tell itself as I progress in the story) the golden trio has graduated. This is a future/AU fic. It departs from cannon at the end of the fourth book, The Goblet of Fire. There will be a few details used from later books, but concerning the wizarding world as a whole, rather than specific character details.

Rating: **HEAVY R! BE WARNED!** First chapter only. Which you could skip if you wanted to.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my own plot. The Harryverse belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Summery: A witch is raped and finds her way to Hogwarts. There is only one person who could possibly help her there, only one who could even begin to understand. Will this person help? Or will they allow the witch to fall head first into that endless pit of despair and depression that always ends in death?

**WARNING. HEAVY RATED R FOR A REASON**

This story deals with rape, which is described only in the first chapter. If you don't like the subject, please do not complain to me as I have warned you not to read this story.

*~*~*~*~*STORY*~*~*~*~*

She ran through the dark woods, her blood pounding in her ears. She couldn't hear the three men chasing her. It didn't mean that they weren't there, just that her fear was too loud her in ears for the sense to be of any particular use. As she ran on bare and bloody feet, twigs caught in her long hair and clothing. What little there was left of it, anyways. Her blouse was in tatters, and covering her breasts by only one button. Her skirt was in shreds, though the waistband stayed where it was supposed to, so the skirt didn't expose her to the elements. Her silk panties had long ago been torn off by one of the greedy monsters chasing her like hungry wolves chased their bleeding prey. The analogy was somehow appropriate – as she was running through a forest. She was hoping and praying that she could get away.

She didn't have to hear the three men chasing her. She could sense them, their emotions, their lust and greed. She couldn't believe herself to be so stupid as to go out alone at night, not now, not during the war. He-who-must-not-be-named's followers were once again on the rise, despite the fact that the boy-who-lived and his friends had defeated their master a few years before.

In her fear, she had not even thought of her wand. She had gone first for the knives she always carried. She had injured the men, and that had only made them worse. Each knife slash and drop of blood excited them more. Each swing brought three more thrusts. One mounted her, one held one arm down, and the third could have easily held down the arm slashing with the glistening blade, but to them it was more fun to give her false hope.

The first man continued to thrust and tear her tender flesh until he emptied himself inside her womb. Her dry sobs only made them laugh as the man who had just finished grabbed hold of her swinging arm. The one who had allowed her one arm to swing free with her knife took the first man's place between her torn and bloody legs. With his first thrust, she discovered that he was much larger than the previous man was, and in her pain came clarity.

They wouldn't kill her, they were saying. They would take her back to their house, lock her with their other women. They were saying that they had not had one so feisty in a long while. NO! She would not be broken. She had kept hope, and it had paid her well.

She pretended to pass out as the third man mounted her and impaled her. He brought little relief, as he was biggest of all. They fell for her act and let her loose, watching their companion. When the third man had finished, they had started a fire near here, deciding to just camp there for the night. They would rest, and make their way back to their home in the morning. That is when she realized that it was mere muggles doing this to her. She waited until she was pretty certain that the three men were well involved in their discussion. Then she stood quietly, and ran. She ran for all she was worth. It took the men about ten seconds to realize what had happened, and then they too were off. But that ten seconds she had were well used.

She was more fit than they, despite the abuse her body had endured, and she had a good 20 second head start. It was then that she thought about her wand. She pulled it and, while running, cast a few healing spells. Spells that would have preferred her to be immobile, but at that point, rest wasn't an option.

As the spells worked, the blood pounding in her ears quieted, and she could hear the three Muggles behind her. She ran into a spot where the four humans – three predators and one the prey – could fit and she could still have enough room to work her magic. So she stopped and turned, wand raised, waiting for the predators-turned-prey with an evil glint in her eyes.

The first man shot through the clearing and stopped when he saw her. He smirked thinking they had won, and was not prepared for the burst of silver light that shot toward him as his victim shouted 'Expelliarmus!' The first man flew back into a rather large tree trunk and hit his head. She again shouted a spell, still pointing her wand at the man. 'Perificus Totalus!' The man wouldn't be moving unless another wizard removed that curse. The next man to make the clearing was the third man. She threw a stun curse at him, and then put him in a full body bind like the first man. The second man came through right behind the third, and she wasted no time putting him the full body bind. He fell forward onto his face mid step, hands thrust forward as if he were a great *stuffed* bear in a muggle museum.

She leaned back against the tree, and finally let the tears come. Tears over what had happened, tears for her own stupidity at being out alone, and forgetting her wand. She supposed she shouldn't blame herself for that, after all in extreme fear one reverts back to a child's mentality. She was raised muggle, so her wand never crossed her mind. She was just glad she finally did pull her wand, out here in the woods, rather than where ever there were more people. She wouldn't have been able to do that without a tremendous amount of trouble from the Ministry.

She gave herself a half-sob/half-laugh for even thinking such things. After what had happened to her. Denial, she supposed. Distancing herself from the tragedy. She still had to figure out how to get somewhere safe. Her head snapped up at her own thoughts. She was in Scotland. A certain school that was out for the summer was also in Scotland.

Although she was loath to do so, she approached the first man, who had taken her knife. She would create a portkey to Hogwarts gates. Picking up her knife, still stained with the drying blood of the men, she cast the necessary charms on it as the sun rose over the horizon. She took a moment to marvel at the fact that all she had been through had happened between midnight and sunrise. She muttered some simple cleaning spells on herself, to try not to look to pathetic when she arrived, then took the knife/portkey in her hands and uttered the word that activated it. 'Home.'