Disclaimer: I would LOVE to own HP but I don't. That's all the Genius that is J.K. Rowling.
AN: ok gonna start with this is mega dark up front. Sucidal thoughts (not really fully formed but there nonetheless). If you ever have thoughts like these seek help. Friends, family, teach, hotline, psychiatrist. Doesn't matter. Seek help and stay safe. My thoughts and prayers are with you.
Non graphic rape. Happened prior to this story. I will not be describing it. We'll get a sort of fade out at some point but no details. I don't have the stomach to do that. This does go into graphic detail of fallout though. At no point is this meant to be a judgment or opinion as to what anyone should do in this situation. This is my plot bunny's story and fiction to boot. Period. No one can or should make this choice for anyone. It's a personal choice and know if nothing else there's one person in the world that will support whatever choice you make. Your choice is the right choice for you. If someone has a problem on that statement I don't wanna hear about. This isn't a choice debate.
All REVIEWS about the STORY are welcome. Good bad whatever. If it sucks tell me why. There's a difference between not your cup of tea and bad writing so please be specific.
I'm a Slytherin if my snark isn't coming through clear enough. Flames will be met with crucios.
1.
She appeared in a deserted area of the Forest of Dean located in Gloucestershire, England.
Where she was from it was no longer called the Forest of Dean. Long ago had the world stopped calling it that. No, the others always called it something else. The Black Forest. The cursed forest. Forest of forgotten souls. Kinder souls, rare though they were, called it the Forest of Tears. She called it nothing. What does one call the place that was once home to your living soul and later home to your greatest pain. Pain beyond reckoning. Sorrow so great tears could never be wept for it. Rage so vast it consumed everything in its path like a raging fire.
There had been no tears since that night so many decades ago. The beginning of the end for the world. Theirs... and hers. Her screams that night had wrent great gashes in the sky filled with death and decay. Nothing for many miles in any direction had survived that night. Not human muggle or wizard. Not animal deer or unicorn. Not enchanted creatures elves or centaurs. Everything was laid to waste, blackened and charred to ash. A dead monument without, to what her heart and soul became within.
The Forest in which she stood now bore little resemblance to the Forest she had come from. Even before that night it hadn't looked like this. This forest was newer still. Magic of any kind had yet to touch it, though the magic was gathering.
Around her the maelstrom of magic that had forshadowed her appearance continued to gather and rage. It would be some time before it settled. As much as she would have preferred to stay and meet those she knew would come, both from this place and from where she'd come there wasn't time for that.
While violence and vengeance had been her way for some time her mission here was something else entirely. Some other plan all who knew her, or knew of her, would never imagine she was capable of. How quickly they'd forgotten who'd she'd been while in terror of discovery of what she was. What they'd turned her into.
It mattered very little. Everything had played how more or less how the bastard had planned. So embossed on their very souls, practically seared in their flesh, those plans had been no one could wretch free of them... not even her. He wouldn't be surprised when they ran to him with tales of horror. He'd comfort them with promises of containment and protection while also sheltering her. After all her time hadn't come yet. She was still needed.
Rather he was still needed. She would be hunted to the very ends of the earth but she wouldn't be found. Not yet. Not ever. Not how they were expecting.
She smiled a little. Power the dark lord knows not. Power they all knew not. It wasn't what he thought. That he hadn't planned. Couldn't plan. Couldn't even fathom. Not yet. But he would. She'd see to it. He'd know exactly the power she had.
Where his plans were seared into her soul and flesh she'd sear her's into his eyes, his heart, his lying deceitful tongue, into the marrow of his bones.
With a crack she disappeared from the forest that she'd once called home. A forest that would never be her home again. To a forest of a different kind.
HPHPHPHP
Harry felt ill. More than ill, he felt down right wretched. Like his internal organs were trying to become his external organs as he sat hunched over the toilet in the second floor girls bathroom. He knew what was wrong of course. At first he'd convinced himself it was some kind of survivors guilt. After the third task. After the graveyard.
"Don't think about it, don't think about it, nothing worse than that happened."
He was lying of course. To himself and everyone else. But what could he do. There was no one to go to with... this. Even if his parents were alive he'd act no differently. This wasn't something you told. Not now, not ever.
He'd landed in the graveyard. The rat had murdered Cedric. His blood had been stolen to resurrect Voldemort. Then... the death eaters were summoned. Torture. Fake dual. Escape. Moody. Then truth "he's back, Voldemort's back". Then lies. "That's it, that's all that happened."
Harry had never been the most gifted liar in the world but desperation, horror, terror, shame, and so many more emotions there just wasn't enough room to feel them all at the same time culminated in making it so no one had questioned his story too deeply. Why would they? Murder, torture, attempt murder, wasn't that enough?!?
As Harry's stomach made its displeasure at the world known he wished "if only that was enough." He didn't even consider telling anyone. Not Sirus. Not Remus. Certainly not Hermione or Ron. Gods just the thought of telling them made him wretch harder.
At first it just hadn't happened. It was as simple as that. Lost and forgotten in the horror of that night. If he couldn't forget it in his dreams... well time would force it away soon enough. It was easy to blame the mood swings and the constant sickness on his sleepless nights and anger at his friends ignoring him over the summer.
By October when his stomach started rounding oddly he was surely losing his mind. Perhaps some horrible wizard version of a venereal disease. He was a wizard. Those were really the only 2 options.
By November though really he wasn't blind. Despite the circumstances that led him to grimmauld place it afforded Harry an opportunity. The Black family's library. There really was no way to do the kind of research he needed here at Hogwarts without either alerting Madam Pince or Hermione. But with Mr. Weasley still recovering it allowed Harry opportunities to sneak away.
Wizards could not in fact get pregnant. But some wizard lines, those that held dying out in greater disdain than homophobia had taken certain measures to insure their bloodlines could continue. The Blacks being prominent among those "forward thinking" bloodlines. It was vaguely laughable considering their other prejudices. Metamorphmagus was the "lesser" version. Tonks could change into anything really, anyone. But the change was really only superficial. Fundamentally on a genetic level she was still Tonks. She was always she, whatever she may look like on the outside. This was also the more common Black trait.
Hermaphroditemagus was the greater desired Black trait. Harry could not give himself a duck bill for a nose or change his hair violent pink. He could however shift between 2 forms. Male and female. Both technically were still fundamentally Harry as well, but where Tonk's gender remained static in her DNA, Harry's did not. Puberty was a time for both Harry's genders to develop.
So that night in the graveyard, while his outside had most definitely been male it seems his inside was either some combination of both or simply female. That he had conceived during... (he still could not bring himself to call it sex or worse anything beginning with the letter R) was just further proof of the Blacks dedication to furthering their bloodline. A Hermaphroditemagus could conceive during pretty much any type of penetrative sex except oral sex. Regardless of what gender they were at the time. Honestly there hadn't been one in the Black line in about 300 years so the mechanics where a bit sketchy.
Harry had smuggled any books he could out of the Black library now that he was back a Hogwarts hoping for... what? A solution? What solution?
The books where clear, while Harry was capable of conceiving as a male, carrying and most certainly delivering a child as a male was not only a bad idea it was potentially fatal to both of them. Likely impossible without intervention. Certainly the only way to get the child out of his male body was to cut it out.
Part of Harry still wasn't processing even the assault itself, let alone its aftermath. Another part accepted by doing nothing he was in essence making a decision for both of them. While still the smallest part of him yet, the part that hadn't aimed his wand at his middle and cast a blasting curse or thrown himself down the stairs or even really been breathing too deeply the fumes in potions class if he could avoid it, was still too also making a choice.
Harry sighed. There was a choice in there he was making without making it. What that choice was yet he wasn't yet able to admit to himself.
He'd just come from his first occlumency lesson. When Snape had seen Cedric in the graveyard the horror Harry had felt could only be rivaled by the horror that he'd actually experienced that night. So great in fact he'd practically bodily thrown Snape from his mind. He couldn't do it. There was no way. He was only half way through this nightmare happening to his body. He couldn't hide it from the outside world and hide it from Snape from within his own mind.
He'd had no idea what occlumency lessons would be like. That Snape of all people would be the one to discover this was partially to blame for the current state of his stomach. Course going through pregnancy male, his stomach didn't need much excuse to rebel. The symptoms laughingly called morning sickness (more like every second sickness) hadn't really faded since they'd started up mid August.
Finally after what felt like an age he stopped his pathetic wrenching. There hadn't been anything left to throw up for probably an hour at least but his body had put up a valiant effort.
Harry half crawled half limped to the sinks to wash his mouth out. Looking at himself in the mirror he couldn't help but marvel at how truly awful he looked. It occurred to him then he really wasn't going to survive this. He was too tired to care much. Not so tired he'd hasten his end but not willing to face the reality of what had happened that night to ask for help. And a very tiny part of him not willing to end the life inside of him to save himself.
His feeling for the child was less disgust at the child itself and more a general unwillingness in his own mind to acknowledge its existence. If it was there he had to think about how it got there and he couldn't. He could in some way acknowledge there was a child involved in this mess (separate from himself of course) and when he did that he could make plans.
It couldn't stay here. Hogwarts wasn't safe. Hell nowhere in the world would be safe for this child. Hunted by both sides (careful...). It couldn't stay here. Somewhere hidden. Somewhere far away. Somewhere safe. Occlumency. How the bleeding hell?!?
Harry put his head in his hands. Ok plans. Occlumency was the immediate threat. Snape couldn't be allowed in his mind again. Library. There had to be occlumency books. Hermione. This at least she could help with.
After occlumency he already had a way out of the castle to get the child out. There was a way through the chamber of secrets. Straight into the forest. From there... where?!? Occlumency first.
Harry grabbed his bag from the floor and slipped his invisibility cloak out. He left to make his way to the tower. He never questioned why the entire time he was there Myrtle never made a sound nor did he see her from where she watched in one of the cubicles worry etched on every line of her face.
HPHPHPHPHP
AN: K that's the prologue. Should be longer cuz there's more plot points than that but 1:30am. Must sleep. Hitting the ground running here. This is NOT a Harry/Voldemort. Though obviously there's this going on. No romance though. Straight up bad guy here. Couple of things. One. Desperate need of a beta. Two. This is actually a pretty fully formed plot bunny that's been bugging me. Go figure haven't written in years and never for HP. That said if there's a co-author out there who wants to help me flesh this out I'd be happy for the collaboration. In particular if someone can help me format on crazy that'd be awesome. Thanks.