Depth of a Soul
By CyanSan
Warning: Slash, Foul-Language, Tiny-bit-of-angst, Sarcasm, Cynicism, Darkish Harry.
Rating:18+(Note for Sensitive or Young Eyes)
Pairings: Undecided. Possible Main Pairings;
HP/Severus Snape?, HP/Voldemort(Aka Tom Marvolo Riddle)?, OR HP/Severus Snape/Voldemort?
Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership on the Harry Potter series. All rights, and acknowledgements from the story from this chapter go to the Great Goddess of writing J.K Rowling except what comes from my own devious mind.
Chapter 1: Lost in Thoughts, and Memories.
Harry's bleeding hand hung limply at his side. The words 'I will not tell lies' was now forever etched, and scarred into his flesh due to the dark magic from his multiple detentions with the farce of a professor known as Umbridge.
He had tired to go to both McGonagall, and Dumbledore about it, but both had brushed him off about it. Both of them saying he was just exaggerating his treatment by the pink ministry toad, both saying that he should just try to keep his head down, and not make any trouble for himself.
He was sick of their bloody reluctance to listen to him or to do anything in regards to his well being. He was beyond frustrated, and beyond furious with them, he was just plain done with everything that had to do with the headmaster, and his useless head of house. Harry was plain done trying with them.
Harry sighed aloud, and shook himself from the memories as he walked down the dark, empty maze-like halls of Hogwarts towards where he believed his dorm room is in his anemic hazy-minded state.
Harry couldn't help, but recede back into his darkest memories whilst he listened to the rhythmic blood dripping from his hand to the ancient stone floors. He just couldn't help, but wander back into his memories of his dark, bleak years at the supposedly safest place in Britain, Hogwarts.
He thought bitterly at how at just eleven years old he had been forced to become a killer, and be praised because of it.
A dark part of himself whispered to him about how suspicious it was for three eleven year olds to just bypass the tasks set by Dumbledore to protect the stone from the Dark Lord himself. Harry couldn't help himself, but think that it wasn't just a coincidence that it was set up that way as well how Dumbledore was not in Hogwarts that day or how suspicious it was that the man showed up at the last minute possible.
Harry's dark thoughts, and memories continued as his steps faltered slightly from the blood loss.
He remembered how the students isolated him in second year for his supposed 'Dark' gift of Parsletongue. Harry remembered their disgusted betrayed looks of hatred.
He thought to himself how strange it was that none of the teachers thought to stop it. Stop the cruel words, actions, and wrongful bullying for something he couldn't control.
The darker side of him thought that the teachers agreed with the students on the subject of his gift, why else would they allow the cruel words and isolation to continue if they didn't agree with it in the first place?
Harry's thoughts wondered onto why Dumbledore hadn't known about the basilisk as he was a teacher at the time when the Chamber of Secrets was first opened, or why no one had asked Myrtle on what happened on the eve of her death? Shouldn't at least Hagrid want the truth to the death he was accused of causing? Harry's dark wanderings brought him to why nobody could figure out what was causing the attacks. He knows that there couldn't be that many magical creatures that could petrify (or kill) with a glance, and not many magical creatures that Salazar Slytherin would have kept in his chambers or would have survived in it for so long, so why wouldn't anyone want to figure out what was causing the attacks? Did they truly not care about the students being petrified?
A darker part of him wondered if any of the parents of the students were contacted about the attacks, or even if the students themselves were told. Was any one informed about any of the dangerous occurrences that happened here at Hogwarts during his years here?
Harry put his head in his left unscarred hand as his vision started to go a bit black around the edges. His back fell against the hard stone wall heavily so as not to fall over from a sudden wave of dizziness, and nausea. He was only vaguely aware that he was somewhere near the dungeons, and not anywhere near Gryffindor Tower like he was trying to head towards.
Harry thought back onto his third year. He pondered on just why no one (not even the Board of Governors or the parents of any of the students) had more strongly refused to have the Dementors on school grounds. Harry also wondered why nobody had more strongly guarded the Dementors from him or more importantly the other students, or just shield the students from the presence of the beings as he recalled many of the soul suckers had given the students nightmares from just being around them.
Harry wondered why no one took their claim that Sirius was in the Tower that night seriously, or why they didn't move us from the rooms he had proved he could gain access to afterwards. Harry knew now that Sirius was innocent, but at the time Sirius was still his parents betrayer to him, so why was everyone around him so unconcerned? Harry also was vaguely concerned as to why no one gave Sirius a trial, even Bellatrix Lestrange had gotten a trial, and she was caught red-handed as she was torturing the Longbottom's.
'Maybe,' he thought hazily,' it was done purposefully'
He recalled that Sirius was to take over guardianship over him and how he came from a notoriously dark family.
'The light wouldn't want would they?,' he thought darkly. Dark thoughts on likely scenarios of why he was placed with the Dursley's on the back of his mind that wouldn't involve reasoning's of supposed blood wards to protect him from death eaters.
Harry sagged further against the cold wall, and slide down it, his eyes growing a bit more hazy. He wondered morbidly on just how much blood he's lost to Umbitch's damned blood quill for his limbs to be going slightly numb.
Harry was dragged back into his memories of the previous year. He remembered everyone's faces of the same hatred, and betrayal of his second year on all of the student-body's faces, and Dumbledore's quick furious look of disapproval before he could even defend himself, or explain he never entered the damned tournament (or wanted to) to begin with.
Harry remembered how he was forced into competing in fear of losing his magic, even though he wasn't of age to compete or to be involved with magical contract anyways.
Harry remembered Ron's, and Hermione's betrayal, and disbelief in him. He was then reminded of both Ron, and Hermione's jealousy, and their quick betrayals all over again throughout the years.
Harry remembered the graveyard, the ritual, and then Voldemort himself. He remembered the pain of the Torture Curse that was inflicted on him. He was reminded of Cedric's lifeless eyes as he dragged his corpse to the cup turned portkey via his accidental magic to Cedric's father who thought him his son's murderer.
Harry remembered the newspapers slandering his name. He remembered them calling him an insane attention seeking liar rather than face the truth that he wasn't, indeed, lying.
'The scar does say 'I must not tell lies' after all,' Harry thought dryly.
He remembers never receiving a single owl, or word this summer as he was locked away with the Dursley's to be starved, beaten, and worked like a slave while he was watched on by Dumbledore's little club like nothing was wrong.
Harry's eyes began to grow more unfocused, and his body became more limp as he heard the heavy drops of his life blood falling to the cold, cruel stone of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He was so tired. Tired mentally, emotionally, physically, and magically. Harry was tired of fighting. He was tired of being manipulated, and lied to. He was just tired of it all.
Harry only vaguely heard Professor Snape call out to him before he blacked out to Morpheus.
End Chapter 1. Posted 3/26/2016. Edited 5/8/2016 2:17 A.M.