Pushed into the Darkness
Chapter 01
By Angelis Raye Kamura
There was nothing wrong with the end product, it was just that there was no beginning or end to it, so it seemed. At least he was alive.
Or so he had thought right after it had all happened.
Perhaps there would be some sort of order to it when it was picked apart by those critics he had always hated ever so much. They always took him piece by piece, being critical of it all, not stopping until his mental image of himself while hearing them on the news, was a bloody corpse, lying on the ground helplessly.
Sighing, he got up, using his cane to balance and guide himself around the room. He'd gone through a lot his entire life -- all his friends were gone, everyone had abandoned him by the end. Is this the way he was going to die? No one really cared anymore – excepting, of course, the critics.
He'd spared his enemy in the end -- how could he have done that? That's the main reason the critics were so harsh on him. Cold, feeling ever-so lonely, he passed the room as much as he could, before his leg would completely go numb and force him to retreat to his chair by his bed. He lived such a pitiful life now. His pride was all washed away, his dignity gone, his soul hollow, and his heart was nowhere to be found. And he was glad that it was all gone.
In the end, he really was a Slytherin, wasn't he? He'd run from his responsibility after the Headmaster's death and when he finally was forced (when finally forced) into the situation with those dark crimson eyes staring relentlessly into his own, he shook his head and held up his hands. He was forced to do what he would not regret, though. He surrendered, completely into the darkness; into the depths of power and pleasure he would never have experienced otherwise. It had come with great pain, but he had endured that, since it would save his life in the end.
It did more than that in the end, but soon after he failed to escape from the Aurors. They were stunned to see just who was responsible for at least one hundred deaths of innocents and those in authority, once they pulled off the mask. It was the man that had been put in charge of saving them all: the savior of wizard-kind.
They whipped him, they tortured him, subjected him to countless horrors, and just to get information out of him. That is, once they'd found he'd gone willingly. He'd laughed at them, spat in their faces, and injured many in attempts to escape to his Lord and Master.
"Is this how Severus Snape died, then?" he'd asked defiantly one day. That was the day he'd lost the ease of free movement in his left leg. They had crushed it so badly all the nerves in his entire leg lost a steady connection with the brain. And when it wasn't the nerves that lost the signals, it was his muscles that failed him.
This was punishment for betraying them to the Dark Lord, they said. This was supposed to be the payback for all the harm that he did on the rest of the world, or so they claimed. They asked how many muggles he'd killed -- they only got a perverse laugh out of him in response, echoing through the hall and back to the dungeon rooms they held him in, chained to the walls, held behind bars.
Once they were finished with him, they'd ship him off to Azkaban. They never did keep their promise; they would rather torture him this way, letting him stay more whole and in better condition.
A few months later, they brought out an acid bath, promising that he'd be well punished if he decided to not give them any information on his Lord and Master, the Dark Lord.
"Why should I? I swore to him that I would rather die than allow you to extract such information from me!!" He smirked, his legs causing him great pain when they pulled him to his knees. The oldest man was the one to force the traitor's head into the vat. That he didn't die was a miracle and an immense bane onto his captors. However, all the nerves leading to his brain were severely damaged, destroying the connection from his brain to his eyes.
After countless experiments with the young man, they gave up on trying to kill him. However damaged he was, he wouldn't die. The only injuries that he sustained were the ones in his leg and his eyes, much to the man's chagrin.
"Why couldn't I just have died? I'm no longer any assistance to my master..." he asked himself one day.
"It's the reason we're 'laxing the security around you. You'll be going to a muggle prison, in an isolation chamber."
And so, that's what happened. This landed him in the spot he is in now. He was allowed a television, although it's only as good as a radio would be to him. He was given a deteriorating piece of wood for a cane, smoothed down so that he wouldn't get himself splinters and manage an infection. Those were the only courtesies he was allowed in this environment, and only because the caretakers of the prison were clueless as to why he was even there.
When he was about to lay down for bed one night, a great shaking rumbled through the walls, startling him completely awake. After that, he cannot remember, since the heavy isolation door was opened, followed by a quick jab in the neck with what felt like a needle.
"Are you awake yet?"
"Hn...?"
He opened his eyes, although he knew that he wouldn't be able to see anything. He felt around himself with his hands, finally touching a finer material than he'd felt in such a long time. How long had he been held captive – how long since he couldn't see or walk without some sort of assistance?
"I will take that as a yes," the voice whispered, but he could hear it, strangely enough. It tugged many of his old memories loose, causing him to recall who's face belonged to the voice here with him.
"M'lord..." he whispered in return, bowing his head, clutching at the clothing he realized were his Master's clothing, made of fine silk.
He felt the cold fingers trail around his eyes, down his nose and mouth, then caressing his cheeks. "How sad you must be... to not be able to see..."
"I really do wish I could see again, my Lord. I wish to see how you've become the ruler of the world we live in."
"And I wish you could see how I've reshaped the world to please even your desires, little one." He could hear the smirk in the other's response, curling the corners of his lips on his handsome features of his face. "Please... I realize we've been apart for such an extended period of time, but you desperately need to be rewarded. Call me what you used to again... It's been too long..."
Emotions that he hadn't felt in such a long time now threatened to pour over his stoic mask he'd learned to retain in his dealings with the previous two captors. Shaking his head to clear the threat of tears, he then lifted his face up, using his hands to feel the features of the one who held him so closely. "You've completed it..." he said in awe, his voice cracking.
"Yes, but unfortunately I do not look at all as what you probably picture me to look now you can no longer see," the older man frowned sadly at the other as he spoke.
"Wrinkles...?" he inquired, as he felt the face, neck and chest of the other, tilting his head to the side in question.
Chuckling, the response was: "Yes, unfortunately. No matter that I may live forever, I have gotten older than I was at sixteen, you must realize. I was forced into this conclusion when I myself saw the reflection in the mirror. Although it restored something I had lost, it could not replace youth. At least you cannot see my hair..."
Furrowing his eyebrows together, the shorter man's fingers flew to the hair of the other individual. "Well, it's all there..." he pondered, completely perplexed.
Silence surrounded the two, only their breathing was heard for a full few minutes, until the younger became too impatient.
"Well?!"
"Hush, I'll show you..." he held a finger to the other's mouth, the hand then covered the forehead, covering the infamous scar. Soon, the blind man felt like he could see again, although he was also sent images of himself.
"I think you must look the better of us, Tom."
"But at least you don't look like a wise man or an old king..."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Not much. I'm just uncomfortable with the way I look, after such a long time. Don't worry about it, Harry."
"I'll try not to."
To be continued...?