Hand Of Sorrow
Rating: M
Summary: AU. Harry makes a mistake that might be too late to rectify. Death-eater! Harry.
A/N: Okay, well, I should start off by saying that this fic WILL be HBP compliant. Or at least, mostly; The Draco plot to kill Dumbledore will be included, all things with Snape will be included, and the Harry/Ginny romance will be kept in. The only change? Harry's a Death Eater. I will try to keep this story not OOC, but it may happen with only people like Draco or Severus. Voldemort will be completely in character, and Harry should as well. And, yes, the title is not just a coincidence; This story was greatly inspired by "Hand Of Sorrow" by Within Temptation.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does.
— Chapter 1 — "Affliction"
He didn't remember how he had gotten here; But then, he didn't remember much of anything; Everything seemed a blur, as if he was watching the last few weeks through hazy eyes, unable to take control of the mind and body he felt so disconnected from, resisting to obey his commands. And every time he tried, there was that taunting whisper in the back of his head, and he knew who it belonged to, and yet he didn't, for it seemed to be coming from his own conscience and his own dark thoughts. His mind and conscience had accepted these thoughts at last - thoughts he didn't want to have to accept, thoughts and temptations he tried so hard to resist..
But it seems the more you try, farther into the abyss you fall. Perhaps trying was futile, perhaps he ought to let himself fall headlong into the darkness waiting to consume him, the shadows probing the unwanted feelings of self-hatred and revulsion and designing them to fit their own expectations.
He didn't remember, as his feet carried him to the place he had last visited almost two years ago, the place he had thought he would be meeting Death in all it's glory, and escaped, that he would find himself back here again, nor did he remember why his mind had let him wander here; And he wouldn't remember, as he found himself lying inside the passage that led to the courtyard of the graveyard, that he had made a grave mistake, a mistake that he would be unable to turn back.
He opened his eyes, vision blurred and unfocused, blinked, and sat up. Immediately, he realized he was not where he had been last night – sleeping in his four-poster in Gryffindor Tower. Slightly panicked, he forced himself to his feet, on unsteady legs, and backed into a hard stone wall, and gasped. He was currently standing in a barricaded room, seemingly like a prison room, and his heart swelled with immense fear as he realized he had been taken prisoner. Fighting against the pain in his arm, which burned and seared from likely injury, he walked quickly to the door and pulled. Nothing. He heard the lock struggling to break, but it wouldn't budge; He was locked in. Reaching inside his jean pockets, Harry realized that his wand had been taken along with him. If the situation weren't so ironic, he would have laughed. His kidnapper, he knew, was probably sitting somewhere beyond the door that kept him locked in this hell hole, tossing the phoenix-feather wand into the air with lazy ease and laughing and boasting that he had captured Harry Potter and was intending to kill him.
Grunting in resignation, Harry kicked at a chain lying near the door, and when only it created pain in his foot as well as the pain in his arm, he sighed. There was only one thing to do now, and that was to wait; Voldemort, who would want his death done as quickly as possible, would probably be coming in any moment. He sat down against the stone wall and stared in a bored fashion at the chain that had caused his foot to throb painfully, and wondered why Voldemort hadn't tied him up with it, or at least beaten the hell out of him with it.
Maybe that's where the pain in my arm came from, thought Harry grimly, and as soon as he thought it, his scar seared with pain, and he clamped a hand to it just as the door burst open and in walked the devil himself, Red eyes glaring dangerously at him, the lipless mouth curled into a snarl, and shut the door forcefully behind him.
Harry sat there unmoving, fighting against the pain in his scar, trying to keep his eyes open, which were threatening to shut due to the pain, and stared up at his enemy, who was walking almost lazily towards him, and the red eyes held nothing, no emotion, expressionless; The snake-like man stopped short almost two feet from Harry, staring down at him, and Harry stared fearlessly back, waiting, waiting for the Green light surely to follow...
"I see you're finally awake." He said softly. Harry almost quirked an eyebrow at him; Well, obviously he was awake. "Is the room too far from your expectations?"
Harry snorted. "I dunno, I didn't get much time to look around, actually, before you came bursting in. Not like I care, anyway."He smirked directly into the Dark Lord's face and continued, "Well, get on with it. Kill me."
Voldemort laughed; A humorless, dry, laugh. "Who says I'm here to kill you, Potter?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, come off it. It's been your goal for the last sixteen years. Well, whatever you're planning to do, go for it. Beat me until I'm bloody, leave me here to rot, I don't care anymore."
Voldemort said nothing for a moment, only moved closer to him, and Harry's spine tingled with chills at his enemy's advance, though he hid his fear visibly from his face. Then, the Dark Lord seated himself directly in front of Harry and smirked. "I wish to do neither of those things, Harry."
"Then fucking leave me alone," Harry snapped, impatience getting the better of him, and turned his head away, but Voldemort caught his chin in a single, skeletal hand, and his face was one of rage.
"You will show me proper respect, boy," He sneered, "Otherwise I might have to beat the respect into you. And I assure you, you'll be a lot more obedient then."
Harry growled through the pain now coursing through his jaws. "Go ahead. I don't give a damn what you do, because —"
"Oh, but you'll find that obedience is now a virtue when it comes to you and me, Harry. Or have you forgotten the little endeavor last night?" He spoke silkily, and Harry's stomach lurched sickly, and he only realized just how long ago it was he hadn't eaten.
"What – what do you mean?" Harry attempted to make his tone sound incredulous, but the fear was evident in his voice, and Voldemort's eyes glinted blithesomely.
"Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten," Said Voldemort in a mock caring voice, and Harry's anger almost boiled over at the tone, "Why, it seems you have, poor, poor Harry. Well, let me catch you up to speed, then; Last night, someone came into my midst, someone I hadn't expected." Harry's heart rate quickened, and Voldemort put a finger to his chin thoughtfully. "Oh, let me think – it was you. What was I to do, then, when you revealed to me all of your fears, the anger at the lies and manipulations you've been forced to bear at the hands of Albus Dumbledore? What was I to do, when you begged and pleaded for me to take the pain away, to make them suffer, the ones who have dared to oppose you, the friends who neglect you for each other? And what was I to do, when you asked that one favor of me, a choice I had given you almost six years ago, that you had at the time declined? What was I to do, Harry Potter, when you asked to become one of my faithful followers? A Death Eater?"
"No," Said Harry loudly. This couldn't be!
"Yes," Replied Voldemort in a tight snarl, and he released Harry's chin at last. "Yes, Harry Potter, you asked for the Dark Mark. I knew, at some point, that the darkness within you would finally show it's head, that you wanted a taste of the dark side, and who was I to deny you that?" He ran a finger along Harry's cheek, and Harry jerked away at his touch. "You gave yourself to me, Harry. I now own you. I possess you now, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it."
He relinquished his onslaught of touching Harry and smirked devilishly upon the look on Harry's face. "No," Harry repeated, his mind refusing to comprehend what he had done. "No. You... you did something. I know you did."
Voldemort shrugged indifferently. "Maybe I did, or maybe I didn't. All that matters now is that you're in my pocket, and you can no longer resist me. I have no intention to kill you anymore, Harry. I haven't since last summer."
"You bastard," Harry snarled. "I ought to –!"
"Kill me?" Asked Voldemort, his voice uncaring. "By all means, go ahead and try. But you'll find that you can't even lay a finger on me."
Giving a cry of outrage, Harry jumped forward and seized Voldemort's throat, pushing all his weight onto the elder wizard, knocking them both backward, Harry seething as he attempted to strangle the man. Voldemort watched him, that same uncaring look on his face, his red eyes glinting, and after a moment, Harry's fingers burned blistered, and with a yelp, he relinquished his hands, staring astonishingly at his red raw fingers.
Voldemort smirked. "I thank your mother's protection methods for that. You cannot touch me. I, however," And before Harry could react, Voldemort had wrapped both skeletal hands around Harry's throat, and forced him back against the wall, Harry now the receiver of Voldemort's weight, which was crushing his legs beneath him. Voldemort's face was an inch from his, and again twisted in rage. "Can touch you. I can kill you, and don't you forget it. You'd be a fool to try and attempt to even touch any part of me. I have the advantage here."
"Then why don't you kill me?" Harry growled, his eyes watering in pain from his numb legs.
"There are reasons for which I can't, and reasons I am not going to discern to you," Voldemort said flatly. "But all you should know is that I won't. However, should you turn against me, and go back and tell your little friends or Dumbledore what has happened here, I will not hesitate to punish you severely, and kill your last remaining allies. And believe me, Harry," And he raised a finger and ran it along Harry's lightning-bolted scar, "I shall know. I shall know even if you have the thought to tell someone. But as long as you keep quiet, and do as I command, your friends nor you will suffer."
"And what do you want?" Growled Harry again, as his vision began to go dark. Voldemort seemed to realize his hand was still on Harry's neck, and he released him.
"All I want from you for now is to attend the meeting's whenever they're held, and should you not attend, you will be punished for it. My word is promise." He hissed dangerously, and for effect, he reached out and seized Harry's left arm, revealing the Dark Mark shining bright upon his alabaster skin and Harry screamed in agony as blood began to drip from the wound.
After a moment, Voldemort let go, and Harry gripped his arm to stop the blood flow. "You will go back to Hogwarts, and you will not let anyone know anything. You will Apparate directly to me when the Mark burns, and you will follow orders, when I decide to give them, without question. Any questions?"
"No," Said Harry stiffly. "Other than the fact that I can't yet Apparate, how am I supposed to get here, master?" He said the last word vehemently, but Voldemort seemed too deep in thought at Harry's question to notice the tone.
"When it comes to that, I will teach you personally," Said Voldemort, "For now, when the Mark burns, you will operate through the link we share, and I will program a Portkey outside Hogwarts for you. You are to take your cloak if necessary to avoid detection. You may go. Your wand is out in the graveyard disguised as a Portkey. It will take you back to Hogwarts."
Harry stood up at once and walked not even a foot past Voldemort when the man grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Harry looked up at him, but Voldemort was staring at the wall, and the look in his eyes - the triumph he held there - was more disturbing than even the threats for his friend's lives. "I will know if you turn against me, Harry. Don't forget it."
He released Harry's arm roughly, and Harry took that to mean an exit, and walked swiftly to the door, which Voldemort had unlocked upon entrance, wrenched it open and ran as fast as his feet would carry him out into the Grayeyard and grabbed a hold of the Portkey disguised as his wand. As he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant that the Portkey had worked, he heard Voldemort's cackle vibrating off the walls in complete and utter triumph that he had gotten Harry at last.
The road to hell had been trodden upon, and the first footsteps along the path of darkness had begun, and now he couldn't turn back.
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