Disclaimer: The characters, locations and elements of Harry Potter are the creative and legal property of J.K. Rowling, who I am not, and also to some extent the legal property of certain high-powered resource publishing conglomerates, who I am definitely not, and their affiliates, who I am also not. I mean no copyright infringement by and am deriving no profit from the creation and self-publication of this small bit of fiction; merely enjoyment.
Author's Notes: Written in five minutes, to have something to post in my writing LJ on Hallowe'en. (Actually, I think that disclaimer took longer than the drabble did...) Review and let me know if you think I wasted my time! XD
Warnings: Potentially frightening imagery.
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He has a dungeon, and in it he keeps the things that once meant the most to him; now they are broken, bruised, ravaged by time and his tortures. He stores them there, trapped in the cold stone among the vermin and the rot, for when he needs to see their faces contort with pain and hear their voices screaming his name in desperate, wretched agony. He leaves them alive out of malice, a form of revenge for letting him fall so deeply into the dark caverns of his mind, the treacherous ground upon which he wanders, utterly alone. He makes them hate him now, those who once adored him, just as they hate each other. He helps them turn their despair upon themselves, raining havoc on their sanity and dampening the light that still tries to shine from his heart when he looks into their eyes. He forces them to wish themselves out of their own existence, and he enjoys it. He betrayed them first, but as far as he's concerned it was an outcome they deserved, a balancing of the fates.
Harry Potter lost his soul.
Now his friends loose their minds.
Such is the justice of Darkness.