Hey! I'm C and, as my name suggests I'm clueless. In that I'm clueless when I start writing where it'll go, how long it'll be and how often I'll write the next chapter. I write as an attempt to fend off my depression, that's the theory anyway. So I'll be around. If you like what I write then let me know! If I can make someone smile that'll make me happy. So here we go.
I'm thinking this is going to be Voldemort/Harry. Probably M rated, I usually put part of myself in my characters so Harry's mind may go to dark places, he may have some experiences. I'll trigger warning when I know specifically.
Disclaimer: If you recognise it it isn't mine
Black Band Chapter 1
He glanced at the clock, 01:27. The Dursley's would be asleep by now, so it was safe to be a make a little noise, not too much of course, if they were to wake up, he would be in indescribable amounts of trouble. Harry leant over his bed to where a small cardboard box was hidden just tucked underneath the bed, in the box he had some of Aunt Petunia's sewing needles, not that she had noticed them as she had made Harry do all the sewing of ripped clothes since his return from his 4th year at Hogwarts. Since he had gotten back Harry had been locked in his room made to do menial work such as repairing clothes and, if she was feeling particularly 'kind' she'd let him down to cook and do the garden. Also hidden in the box was several vials of black ink that the Weasley twins had gotten him for his birthday. Harry had spent a lot of time with the twins this past year, especially since the argument with Ron that Harry hadn't quite forgiven yet, the fact Ron hadn't written to him all summer was making it harder and harder to forgive him each day. The Weasley twins wrote to him about once a week, when they could. It turned out Dumbledore was keeping the Weasleys and Hermione at 12 Grimmauld place with the so-called Order of the Phoenix and had them under strict orders not to communicate with anyone out of The Order. However, Fred and George had written to him in secret. They knew that Harry was struggling to cope with the loss of Cedric so that had been writing to Harry as often as they could and telling him about what was going on. Harry was exceptionally grateful.
Harry sat the box on his bed, if you could call it that, and pulled out a needle and a vial of the black ink. He opened the vial and put it on the small bedside table where he kept his glasses when he slept, then dipped the needle in the ink and slowly began to poke at his skin. He was working to make a black band around his right wrist. Harry had been doing stick n poke tattoos like this all summer, the pain and marking of his skin helping him cope with his overwhelming emotions. Helping to block out the pain and rage he felt from the torment of his so-called family, helping to block out the pain of the abandonment of his friends, helping to block out the guilt from the death of Cedric, blocking out the frustration at the fickleness of the wizarding world. If this was what the light subjected him to, him being the hero one moment and the villain the next, only to lead him to his death in the end, were they worth fighting for? This last thought had been plaguing Harry for a while now, was the light side worth what they had been putting him through, he found it dark and twisted, if the so-called light side was like this then was the dark side truly dark? Guilt rushed through him as he remembered the way Cedric had died. He contemplated having the word monster written across him when thoughts like this in the early hours of the morning.
He continued to mull over this as he poked at his skin. His wrist was dully throbbing as the band was slowly formed, so far, he had a black ring on each finger of each hand minus his thumbs. He had a DNA coil going up his middle finger so that in a way he had his mother and father with him. He also had a small C on the top of his shoulder, so he could remember his friend and carry him with him. He had a snake wrapped around his left thumb for his ability as a parselmouth and for his inner Slytherin. He didn't have a reason for his black band yet, but he'd think of one eventually.
His thoughts returned to the Order of the Phoenix and the twins. He felt a growing resentment as he thought of his apparent best friends being in the know about everything and being able to be with his godfather, Sirius, when he was stuck with Dursley's because of some apparent blood wards. But really what was safer? A house under the fidelius charm with an ex Auror who was one of the best in his day or being in a house full of people who would rather see him dead. Harry sighed as he finished the band around his wrist. It was almost 2AM now, and his wrist was sufficiently burning away his pain. Why would Dumbledore be hiding things from him? Why would his friends hide things from him? Harry resolved to writing to Fred and George again in the morning, it had been almost a week since they last spoke. It was now early august and the last he had heard from the twins it had been his birthday. That's when they had sent Harry the ink. He had been speaking to them about his interest in body art throughout the last year and hence they had gotten the ink for him to use. Harry was seriously reconsidering who his real friends were because instead of ignoring the abuse Harry suffered from the Dursleys Fred and George had listened and promised that they would support him no matter what and try and help. Of course, they couldn't do much against Dumbledore but the act of trying was good enough for Harry.
He put his needle and ink away in the box and took out the cleaning products he needed to make sure that the tattoo didn't become infected. After quickly cleaning the new band Harry stashed them away too and hid the box back under his bed. He lay down, arm dangling over the edge of the bed, reluctantly trying to fall asleep. He didn't want to sleep and face the nightmare of Cedric's death but he didn't have a choice. Harry was asleep by 3AM and didn't notice the dark figure appear in the corner of his room.