Who would have thought that in this, the year of our lord 2019 I would be writing Harry Potter fanfiction again?
Anywho. I was rereading Prisoner of Azkaban again and had to wonder what would have happened if the Dementors did kiss Harry while he was still a horcrux? Aaand this came out of it.
I poked around the tags and I don't think anybody has done this before so... I actually had to clean it up and post it.
Fair warning, it gets a bit dark, so if you're looking for a Sunshine and Rainbows AU it's not this one. That being said, I don't think it's too much darker than canon.
Thanks to jessi_08 for being my beta!
Enjoy!
-Becks
PS - This is all I have planned for this AU, so if you feel particularly inspired to do anything with this, take it and run free with it! Just tag me in it, I'd love to see what you come up with!
The Dementors pressed in closer and Harry's feeble attempts at a patronus finally gave way to the encroaching monsters. The closest Dementor clapped its scabby gray hands around Harry's shoulders. He felt the cold reach deeper than ever before. His mother's screams echoed in his ears and he could feel the timber of his father's voice in his chest. All hope of leaving the Dursleys and living with his godfather left him.
The ability to fight or struggle left Harry. He only uttered one, nearly mute "No" as the Dementor's face lowered closer to his. The darkness pressed in and Harry could no longer even feel the cold anymore. He closed his eyes, and could almost see his parents' last moments. It was the last shred of comfort before he lost consciousness.
X
Severus Snape sprinted towards the lake. He was close enough to see now that the Dementors had a figure in their clutches – a far too small figure.
The doe flew from his wand and charged down the Dementors before he even registered speaking the spell. The creatures dropped the boy and fled from the patronus.
Harry was unconscious, like the others, by the time Snape reached the lakeshore. Unthinkingly he conjured bindings for Black even as he checked Potter for a pulse. He was reassured by the present, if weak pulse, and conjured stretchers for the three.
Weasley was still unconscious, and Granger and Black seemed untouched by the Dementors. As for Harry… it would be impossible to know what the damage was until he regained consciousness.
X
He woke slowly, his body seemingly disconnected from his brain. It took a moment to realize the novelty of consciousness.
There were voices somewhere in the darkness, voices he vaguely recognized. They were speaking lowly and tersely about repercussions and aftereffects.
One voice, carrying the tone of someone suddenly terrified of hearing an answer to his question asked, "He's still in there, isn't he? The Dementors didn't-" the voice choked.
Another voice, chillingly familiar answered, "We won't know until he regains consciousness, Cornelius."
"This is a nightmare! How could the Dementors attempt the Kiss on an innocent child when Sirius Black was right next to him?"
Dementor's Kiss?
Ahh... that explained it.
He almost laughed at his good fortune that the Dementors took only the whole soul that resided in this vessel and left him behind. They must have been driven away before they could complete the Kiss.
Finally, he pried his eyes open and struggled to sit up.
Beside him, someone shrilly gasped the wrong name. There was a great flurry of footsteps as several people rush to his bedside. They pepper him with questions and shove chocolate in his face.
He took a moment to compose an answer, dragging his hands slowly down his face to set the mask. He had always been a rather talented actor, and he had been watching this role for the last twelve years.
Stepping into it was child's play.
X
He and the mudblood used the time turner to save the lives of the beast and the convict. He played the part of a boy afraid to lose his newly found godfather. He ensured Pettigrew's escape. (If he has learned anything by now it is the importance of contingencies.) And he made sure the potions master awoke with enough time to drive off the Dementors before they can finish their Kiss.
A great fuss was made over him when it became apparent that he was the one the Dementors targeted on the lakeshore. But the more convincingly he played Harry the less concerned people seemed. Only Dumbledore, ever watching and ever questioning, seemed at all suspicious of anything. Perhaps he suspected the vessel's true nature. Perhaps he knew that the Dementors did get to steal away with a soul.
But, the headmaster said nothing and sent him away for the summer.
X
The muggles required some work. He knew that it would be outright foolish to do anything obvious to them. If he wished to play this role, he couldn't risk expulsion, but he would no longer tolerate being their punching bag in every sense of the word.
The protective charm over the family broke as soon as the Dementors devoured Harry's soul, but Petunia didn't know that. He fought back, talked back, pushed back, retaliated for a decade of abuse. He became the disturbed and demented nephew they always claimed him to be.
When the Weasleys came to collect him for the Quidditch World Cup the Dursleys were quite happy to see him go. He relished at the new flavor of fear in their eyes and couldn't wait to see it next summer.
X
At the Quidditch World Cup, he burnt with a quiet rage at the fools who parade his legacy around like he is nothing more than a common boogey man meant to scare children and lesser wizards.
When the time is right, his retribution will be well deserved.
X
He was hardly surprised when his name was drawn from the Goblet of Fire – given this vessel's track record. It already reeked of a plot, but he played along; curious to see where this one lead.
X
In the graveyard, he stared at himself in a new body – bored, unimpressed.
The newly reincarnated Dark Lord loomed over him, got into his face and spits, "Are you not scared, Potter?"
Their eyes met and understanding dawned.
"I see."
A smile broke across their faces and both vessels laughed in tandem.
He was sent back to Hogwarts with a corpse and a story they both know half the wizarding world won't believe.
X
From then on, it was nearly impossible to avoid Dumbledore's scrutiny. He was held out at arm's length, and not told things purposefully. Someone in the graveyard had blabbed about what really happened, told Dumbledore there was no duel.
But who?
X
By this point he had damaged his relationships and distanced his friends. "Trauma," they said to explain his changes in behavior. And when he stepped further away that summer, when he raged against them like a damaged fifteen year old was supposed to, they hardly seemed surprised. Though, irritatingly enough, they showed no signs of leaving; showing loyalty befitting of another House.
X
Privet drive became a war zone and he was only too happy to fight back against the filthy muggles. When the Dementors came, he very nearly let them take Duddley's soul, but eventually chased them away.
That wouldn't be something Harry would do, no matter how horrible Muggles were. To act too far out of character would raise suspicion.
Still, he took pleasure knowing the boy would never quite be the same after that encounter.
He fought for justice as much as Harry would have when he was taken to trial. And that seemed to convince the others that he was alright again. They welcomed him into their inner sanctum, settling him into the heart of the Order of the Phoenix
It was more than he could ever ask for.
He shared visions with the other vessels when he couldn't employ the owl for communication. They proved to be quite useful for distracting the Order.
He begged Dumbledore time and time again to explain why he was seeing these things, but the wizard refused to explain fully.
He knew the truth as well as Dumbledore, and yet they said nothing.
X
He rallied an army using his vessel's reputation to collect the names of the seditious. He taught them enough to give them the confidence to run headlong into battle and think nothing of their mortality.
X
That Christmas was a somber one as he mourned Arthur's death with the Weasleys.
While at the Black house, he took the opportunity to retrieve something precious and familiar.
X
Faking another vision, he was able to lure his few remaining friends and the Order to the Department of Mysteries. The Death Eaters were waiting and the casualties were high.
In the aftermath, Dumbledore provided a half-explanation to Harry about why these things have happened. He explained the prophecy, the marking of equals, why precisely this child became a vessel.
He pretended to be horrified, but inside he laughed ruefully at the irony of hindsight.
X
That summer, when Dumbledore collected him from the Dursleys, they almost refuse to allow him to return one last time. He terrified them. Whatever he did last summer had turned their arrogant, bullying son into a nervous wreck. He would be sure to come back and kill them personally. It would only be fair to complete their punishment.
He held those thoughts deep in his mind as he apparated away with Dumbledore.
X
Fifty years have only made Horace Slughorn more susceptible to charm and flattery, and it was easy to recall all of the right ways to stroke the old man's ego. Slughorn was putty in his hands.
X
The owl, loyal to the vessel not the cause, kept him well informed of the plot with the Malfoy boy. When needed, he surreptitiously provided inspiration or aid to keep things on course.
X
He was assured of Dumbledore's trust in the vessel when they began private lessons; strolling through people's memories like voyeurs.
He spent a rather long time lingering on the face of the weak and foolish woman he never met. The nuns at the orphanage were right; it was a blessing he never took after his mother.
These trips through memory had to be significant, and it didn't take much to put together the pieces.
X
It was months before all of his suspicions were confirmed and Dumbledore brought up the horcruxes. His eyes went to ring he had recognized on sight (and had also noticed its emptiness.) The diary he had also watched this vessel destroy.
He pulled out all of his old charms to convince Slughorn to give up his memory, and provided Dumbledore of the final evidence he needed.
The wizard had suspected there were multiple horcruxes, and he listed off the ones he knew of or suspected. He never mentioned the vessel, but his eyes lingered a little too long on the boy as he discussed the horcruxes.
X
They retrieved the false locket and returned to find the Malfoy boy's plot in full swing with the Dark Mark hovering over the castle.
At the top of the astronomy tower he waited for Draco to disarm Dumbledore before he stepped out and confessed to everything.
He savored the horror, betrayal, and defeat of the old headmaster.
The Malfoy boy faltered in delivering the final blow, so with an impatient tut, he sent the headmaster falling off the astronomy tower in full view of the Death Eaters.
X
He slipped into his role again, and mourned the death with his peers. The imitation locket sat cold and empty over his heart, but he knew the real one lay safely hidden at the bottom of his trunk.
It replaced the fake the next day, and the stronger fragment in the vessel pulsed and chittered soothingly as it recognized a brother. Every day he wore it, he felt stronger.
X
He knew the Ministry would be in chaos, and could hardly be bothered to check such things as underage magic. But he still waited until his vessel came of age to kill the Dursleys. He enjoyed a month of torturing them before he took a page from his servant's book and buried their transfigured bodies in the back garden.
He sent the owl away to the Malfoy Manor and disappeared. He distrusted the Order without Dumbledore to vouch for him. Expecting Snape to do so might be asking too much of the spy, whose loyalties he and Harry had always doubted (though for differing sides).
After a week or so off the grid he appeared at the Weasley's house just in time for a wedding and a reading of the will.
As planned, he, the mudblood, and the Weasley boy disappeared again when the Ministry fell.
X
They continued the secret mission to collect horcruxes, only he was doing so without the intention of destroying them. He used the mission as an excuse to continue the act, even if it would have been easier to order his servants to hand over the horcruxes they were entrusted with.
He drew out their misery over months and months, turning it into its own form of torture.
They never did find a way to destroy the horcruxes. He knew that sword of Gryffindor could do the trick, but the pure Gryffindor soul that could summon it no longer existed.
X
They lost the Weasley boy to an accident, he claims. The horcruxes got to him and ... it was too late to do anything.
The mudblood was inconsolable, and the only thing that kept her alive at this point was her usefulness in tracking down the Deathly Hallows.
When even her use ran out, he let the Snatchers get them.
They were brought to Malfoy Manor, and he was welcomed with open arms.
It was with great personal glee that he spelled out everything to the mudblood.
She was too broken to cry when she realized that her friend had died four years prior, and that everything they had been through was playing into Voldemort's hands.
He left the mudblood to Bellatrix's ministrations. She cried then.
X
He rejoined himself, the collected horcruxes stashed away again for safe keeping. They set their sights on the last stronghold, Hogwarts.
Without Dumbledore, without the Boy Who Lived, it would crumble at their feet.
They were unstoppable.
They were unbeatable.
All thanks to the unwitting greed of the Dementors.