Dementor's Gift

Summary: Dementors take souls. Harry has two. Only one was taken. Apathetic Harry.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Dementor Dementor Sit Upon My Stool

Bad Soul, Good Soul Which of Them Will Rule

Dementor Dementor Swallow Down My Soul

Down and Down Until Apathy Grows

Might You Try Once More

See If There's Anything Left -

I must Implore

For I am feeling quite empty (not like the usual din)

Dementor Dementor -

I am living sin

It was horrifying to realize the only reason he felt was because of some madman's soul shard imbedded in his head.

"Harry, are you alright?"

It was only after Hermione shook him, did he realize he was being called. "Yes Hermione?" His smile was fake, his curiosity was false and he was pretending so much it should have hurt. Only, it didn't.

Continuous years of systematic abuse - verbal and physical and sometimes sexual - should not have left much feeling in Harry Potter. But the Horcrux inside him fed on the pain and agony, it took and took until Harry was nothing left a boy full of naive optimism.

"Are you alright?" Harry suspected it was at least the fifth time she asked, but there was no annoyance, nothing but worry and concern in her brown eyes.

Another fake smile, "Of course. It's only the beginning of Fourth Year, why wouldn't I be?" Even asking a question - no matter the lie it contained - was hard to do. Put an infliction here and the ending is supposed to lilt. It was so hard being human, how did he do so well before.

His bushy-haired friend gave him a small smile - real and full of affection - before questioning him on his homework. "Did those horrid Muggles give you enough time to finish?"

Harry's eyes closed, finding it easier to hide the nothingness. "Yes, they were perfectly civil this year." He answered in turn, and yes, they had been civil. Vernon had locked him in the cupboard with ten cans of fruit, a can opener, a bucket and Hedwig's dead body. It seems blowing up Aunt Marge wasn't something he liked. Pity.

But it wasn't the end of Hermione's questions, Ron sitting on the opposite seat shrugging as if to say, "What can you do?"

"Are you sure you're alright Harry? You seem a bit... off."

Open eyes, widen them, add surprise and 'false' hurt. "You don't trust me Hermione. I thought we were friends." Faking an emotion was already difficult, faking a false emotion even more so.

But he must have done well because something in her relaxed, a sentiment echoed by Ron who didn't bother to hide his relief. "That's good. I mean, after last year, with Sirius -" Harry grinned, a sharp baring of teeth when the red-head sputtered to an end, a one-sided awkwardness filling the compartment.

"Yes, Sirius." Before the end of third year, perhaps the name would have filled him with hopelessness, or even sadness, but again, he couldn't exactly feel anything but a sort of absent amusement. Sirius was supposed to be his escape, the fragile hope of an actual family. Perhaps if it had come true, he wouldn't have felt like plastic. Cheap and Fake. "I'm fine." And that was the biggest lie of them all.

'Fine' implied there was nothing wrong when everything was. Harry was so screwed up, that he believed if the Dementors tried again this year, nothing would come out. There was a gaping hole where his emotions (love|annoyance|hate) used to be and Harry didn't think it would ever come back. It felt as if he were looking through glass. So clear and delicate.

One push - too hard, too fast - and the whole world might break.

Dementor Dementor

"Harry Potter!"

Again, it was with some kind of detached amusement he felt as he stood, taking in the looks of hatred and betrayal on the school's face. From the gentlest of Hufflepuff's to the loyalest of Gryffindors. It left Harry wondering how he could only feel amusement at what seemed to be a pivotal moment in Magical History.

Walking towards the exiting doors and into a room surrounded by those that either hated him or wanted use for him, Harry could still hear the loud accusations from the outside Great Hall.

"What ees eet, leetle boy?" (What is it little boy?)

It was from the French Veela, superiority in her voice and a haughty elegance in her stance. Harry smiled once more, eyes crinkling shut. "It seems I'm apart of this tournament, shame."

And before the Champion's expressions could do little more than cool, Dumbledore strolled into the room (marched into the room?) and took Harry into his arms - shaking him as if the answer would pop out - with determination sparkling blue eyes. "Did you put your name in the Goblet Harry?" A command was in his voice, one that said, 'Tell me the truth.' But Harry's eyes stayed closed, a sliver of emerald peeking out from dark lashes.

"Of course not Headmaster!" It was so hard to be human. Inject louder voice, sound actually hurt, add a bit of fear. It was sort of like a recipe, if you add too much, it'd be overdone, add too little and it'd be bland. "I wanted a normal year, not one where I could actually die!" Open eyes, darken them, think 'fear'. Remember the Basilisk.

He couldn't actually feel, but he could remember what it was like to, back when he still had that megalomaniac's soul in his head. When he saw him - a withered child, screaming and terrifying in its unnaturalness.

He heard, more than saw Snape enter the room. The man snorted, smooth voice and silky qualities. "I would expect nothing less from an arrogant child, always wanting to be the center of attention."

Harry shot a smothering look, one he didn't quite feel the need to try as hard with. And maybe he should have, Harry mused, watching as Snape's black eyes turned analyzing. "Headmaster, please - I don't want to be in this tournament, isn't there something you could do?"

"Expecting everyone to just bend to your will-"

"Severus." The Potions' Master cut himself off, a sour look aimed at the old man, but nothing else said.

Madame Maxine drifted in next, followed closely by a Durmstrang's storm-cloud Headmaster. Karkaroff took the first swing, anger creating an ugly look as he snarled, "What is the meaning of this Dumbledore! This is plain cheating -" Harry felt as if that word was a bit childish. "- trying to get the upper hand for your own school!" As if cheating on homework was the same as cheating in a life-or-death tournament.

"I agree Dumblydore, should we take offense?" Unlike Snape's whose voice was subtle and affected the senses like the Draught of Living Death, Madame Maxine's voice came down like a hammer, anger strong and clear in her words.

"I think-" Harry started, eyes cloing once more. "That there is a very easy way to clear this situation up."

Snape's head snapped towards him, onyx-eyes deadly, "And what, Mr. Potter, do you think you can do that the rest of -"

Harry really didn't want to listen to him, so he held his wand up and with exaggerated movements, "I swear on my magic, that I haven't put my name in the Goblet of Fire willingly or unwillingly. I swear on my magic, that I haven't asked or bribed anyone to put my name in the Goblet of Fire."

He paused and looked around the room where everyone was waiting, all except - surprisingly, Snape who looked as if he wanted jump him then kill him, but everyone knew you don't interrupt a magical oath. "And I swear on my magic that everything I've said is the truth, so mote it be." Three reasons, three time sworn makes the oath that much more powerful. After all, three was a magic number.

Snape was the first to react, stalking forward to grab Harry by his shoulders, "You idiot boy! Do you know what you've just done!?"

Green eyes were wide and dark, voice holding an indignation that did not show on his face. It stayed smooth and blank, an emptiness flashing once before Harry covered it up. He could tell how disturbed Snape was. "Get off of me! I've just proven I didn't do it! Lumos!"

His wand glowed bright, showing off a beautiful white light that dimmed as soon as Harry was freed from Snape's clingy hands. "Nox." And the light disappeared with a trace of disappointment in the air. (He's had no need to use his wand, perhaps it was feeling neglected)

It was then the door slammed open, and a Death Eater walked through the door. "It's obvious, is what it is!" The Death Eater shouted, startling those not paying attention. "He's defeated the Dark Lord before! Must be some Death Eaters trying to do him in!"

Harry's smile became fixed. He did not want to hear how a Death Eater was trying to kill him when the Death Eater who was trying to kill him was right in front of him.

Moody's left eye whirled around the room as if searching for some hidden threat before zeroing in on Harry. "Boy, you run into any suspicious characters lately?"

Detached amusement, "You mean besides Snape?"

"Detention and Fifteen points from Gryffindor for disrespecting a-"

"-Death Eater? The boy should be rewarded! Good job, twenty to Gryffindor for CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Snape flinched as if hit, face paling at the accusation before noticeably withdrawing. "But we all remember Death Eaters, don't we Karkaroff? Been seeing any of your old friends lately?"

The Durmstrang Headmaster drew himself up, "I have no idea what you're suspecting me of Moody!"

"Yer Death Eater friends that's who!"

Dumbledore and Madame Maxine interrupted, both trying to gain some sort of peace between the two. "Calm yourself Alastor, things will be fine, I'm sure."

Then an idiot walked into the room, shouting something about 'Harry Potter' and 'Fourth Champion'.

Everyone seemed to have forgotten the three Champions watching that proceedings with amusement (Cedric), irritation (Delacour) or sullen stoicism (Krum). Harry wandered over, patting a bemused Cedric on the shoulder - and a whispered, 'Good Luck' - waving adieu to the other two and then taking a secret passage way to get to Gryffindor Tower. He was tired (sleepy) and wanted to take a short nap.

The Knight that was guarding their room bowed, armor clanking as Harry called out, "Alea iacta est." Which translated to, 'the die is cast'. Whoever created that password must have been somewhat high. The portrait swung open, the knight saluting the teen, with the Common Room empty (probably still in the Great Hall) and the fire roaring. Taking a deep breath, he skipped up the boy's staircase.

"To be, or not to be, that ti's the question." He murmured, allowing his persona to fade. It was nice to not be someone he wasn't. In its place stood a boy much different from the passionate Harry Potter. Dead eyes, skin as white as snow and a expression so blank, it might as well be a doll's.

Stripping off his close until silk, black boxers were shown, he sighed once more, "It's so hard to pretend." He then spelled his area silent and warding it thoroughly, he jumped into bed and immediately went to sleep, dreaming of Death and of a wand, a stone and a cloak.

Author's Note:

So at the end of Third Year right before Harry was about to leave the Castle, a stray Dementor caught him and sucked out Voldemort's Soul. Maybe that's why the Demontors were so attracted to Harry, before of a soul that wasn't supposed to be there. Harry saw what was happening (the soul sucking thing) and had a short conversation with either the Dementor or the unnatural wraith left behind who accidentally let the Horcrux truth come out. From the abuse in his younger years, any type of emotion was beaten out of him. But he never did. He got beaten, neglected and maybe sexually abused, but he did not get the negative connotations that accompanied the hurt because the Horcrux was feeding off of it. Which is why I believe the Horcrux never influenced him before. There was already enough misery in his life that the Horcrux had no need to cause more. Or it could have been his Mother's Protection, eh.

First Year, with my theory, could have been that the Horcrux felt the threat to his vessel and actively burned Quirell to a crisp because it.

Fourth Year Voldie could touch Harry now because the connection between Horcrux's were stronger so Voldie could feel it and controlled it from then on.

Oh, and he could tell Moody was a Death Eater because of the Dark Mark. Harry could literally feel Voldemort in the tattoo.

Etc. Etc. Etc.

What Direction the Story Would Have Taken:

Story is up for adoption. I was going to have Sirius and the Hermione try and help Harry with Ron trying to come to terms with his jealousy. So he wouldn't have blown up at Harry, just acted thoughtful about the whole situation. Sooner of later, he would get over his feelings and help Harry as well. Dumbledore was going to be Manipulative, but not bad. He didn't know about the abuse, but he knew Harry was being neglected. He didn't think family could be so bad to each other. Snape was going to figure out something was wrong with Harry and confront the boy only to be horrified when Harry - distant amusement - told him about the Horcrux's and having a confrontation with the Dementors. He would then try and help as well, trying to goad the boy into reaction and looking up Potions and Spells to do horrifying stuff to the Dursley's. Draco was going to be a huge part too, finding out something was wrong with is rival and going to certain lengths to try and figure it out. His only two real friends (Pansy and Blaise) would be going along for the ride, worried about the savior of the WW and about their Death Eater Parents.

That's literally all I had. I might pick this story back up, I might not.