You all hate me because it's late. Oh well, it's done, isn't it? Not very well, but still done. If there are any problems, drop me a message and I'll fix them, but please be polite about it. Anyway, I've re-written this a grand total of nine times, so yeah... I'm not happy with this chapter. I'm actually VERY nervous putting this up, I don't want to disappoint. So... sorry in advance.
Title: Crossroads
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.
Rating: T (for slash, Violence and possibly gore. If any other warnings come up, I'll make note of them).
Pairing: Harry x Tom, Harry x Voldemort.
Summery (extended): At the end of Harry's fifth year, Voldemort disappeared before the Ministry arrived, and everyone's memories have been tampered with. Declared insane and dangerous, Harry is sent to an institution with minimal human contact. With only his thoughts to entertain him, Harry isn't overly surprised when he starts seeing the ghosts of his past. He finds himself stuck between the Light side and the Dark side, staring down the crossroads of his life.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter because, if I did, there would be far more slash.
Crossroads
They stood in the centre of the headmasters office, waiting for the headmaster's age-weary face to acknowledge them. Severus was occasionally clutching his arm and Minerva noticed whenever he would, Dumbledore would glance up with a knowing look. There was something going on – something that they were not telling her – something serious.
"Albus -" Severus started, his hand gripping tightly on his arm.
"Go, my boy, we can discuss this when you return." Dumbledore interpreted, picking out a lolly from a bowl. Severus nodded and strode off, obviously hurrying. Minerva shot a questioning look at her employer and long-time friend.
"It appears that he is being summoned. For what, I can only guess." Perhaps about the situation involving young Harry." Dumbledore had set the grounds, Minerva saw her opportunity.
"We must help Mr Potter and get him out of there," she said, her tone clipped. She was deeply worried about the teen. Seeing the look on Dumbledore's face darken, she could only assume the worst about why she was in her current situation.
"It seems Harry is in a worse condition than what we expected. Unfortunately, he's in the safest possible place at this moment, and it would be an unwise decision to move him." Minerva's blood chilled.
"What condition?"
"It seems Harry's had a hallucination, involving Voldemort. He used quite a painful and dark curse on himself." Minerva was so shocked she didn't even flinch at the name like she normally would.
"Then we must get him out of there." She exclaimed once she had recovered. She did not stop that boy getting expelled every year for the past five years only for him to kill himself. Even when he shouldn't be in that situation.
"We shall continue this conversation once Severus arrives from his summon. Please take a seat. Oh, and Minerva? Would you like a lemon drop?" Dumbledore grinned at Minerva's annoyed expression, but she still took the empty seat directly in front of the headmasters chair, wondering how long her colleague would take to return.
Apparently, it would be the better of a half an hour. Severus returned with what appeared to be an annoyed expression, but Minerva had not spent from the beginning of his Hogwart's years until now with him. She could just see a flicker of emption spark in those dark depths.
"The Dark Lord has had contact with the Potter boy." Severus said smoothly. Minerva did not even try to hold in the gasp of shock.
"But how?" She cried, staring at Severus. This time, she could tell it was definitely annoyance in his eyes.
"The connection the Dark Lord has with Potter." Dumbledore sighed, rearranging an unfamiliar ring on his finger.
"I had thought so," Dumbledore murmured, more towards himself than his familiars, "it was about time Tom discovered how to manipulate the connection."
"It is hard to tell how much contact the Potter boy and the Dark Lord has had. I highly doubt that this would be the first time." Severus said quietly. Minerva nodded in agreement, who could even guess? If the Dark Lord and Harry had, in fact, had contact, then who was to say that he had not been possessed during their time in the Ministry?
"But what if -"
"Harry has not been possessed but the Dark Lord. Ever." Dumbledore said, reading her thoughts. Minerva felt a strong twinge of anger at his apathetic reply, who was to say she was wrong?
"But what if he was?" Minerva asked, but Dumbledore merely held up his hand and gestured to Severus, who was looking thoroughly annoyed.
"I believe Severus has something to say." Dumbledore gestured again, but this time for Severus to speak.
"I would like to know why you told the Ministry that the Dark Lord was not there. Potter's story matches up, as much as I hate to admit it. Especially the part about Black. Why would Potter be mourning about a man he has never been on good terms with?" Severus asked, looking pleased. Minerva supposed that this was due to his rather poor relationship with the man, as of late.
"Harry is safest where he is now." Was all he said. Anger coursed through Minerva, along with a thought.
"But if Mr Potter has had a painful incident involving a hallucination, and You-Know-Who has discovered their connection..." She gasped, appalled.
"We must rescue him!" She yelled. Beside her, Severus winced at her tone of voice.
"I will repeat it again, Harry is safest where he is now." Dumbledore said calmly.
"But we can't just leave him in there! He's literally tearing himself apart!" She shouted. Dumbledore's eye's had long ago lost their twinkle, replaced by a cold look. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Severus' brief nod in agreement.
"I'm afraid that Mr Potter is much safer where he is now than anywhere else." Dumbledore said. Severus strode forward, his robes billowing behind him.
"He's just a boy, Albus. I have already informed you of the Dark Lord's ill intentions for the boy, yet you keep him there?" He asked coldly, glaring at the headmaster.
"I doubt Tom would go after Harry. It would mean reveling his rebirth, and he wouldn't do that. Not before he has an army." Dumbledore said. Minerva felt disbelief flood her, did he even care.
"And by that time it would be too late. The Dark Lord does not have to kill the boy since he's managing it so much better himself. Leave him there for much longer and he might actually die." Severus growled, Minerva could only nod in agreement with her former student. Tom might not have gone after Harry, but Voldemort would. Sometimes, she wondered how her peer had trouble distinguishing the two. Minerva had known Tom at school, as he was in the year below her and she was honestly surprised to learn that that quiet, lonely boy would become Lord Voldemort.
"My decision is final. Trust me… I do not like it, but it's for the best." Dumbledore said sadly. Minerva's attention snapped straight to the man, not believing what she was hearing.
In the corner of her eye, she saw Severus pulling a memory out from his temple. He stared at it for a moment, before trapping the white mist in a viral and dropping the vial on Dumbledore's desk.
"Then that makes you not only a fool, but a liar." Severus snapped at the elder man after he had finished, before taking his exit. Dumbledore stared sadly, before turning to Minerva.
"I am not doing this because I want to. Harry is safest where he is now. Remember, Tom never liked to be in the spotlight, he preferred stay in the shadows. People always feared him more." Dumbledore said, facing her.
"Perhaps, but You-Know-Who is smart and always get what he wants, one way or another." Minerva said glumly, knowing that he would not change his mind.
"We can only hope for the best and, if it comes to it, we can always get Harry out. He is in no danger whatsoever." He smiled sadly at her, and Minerva took it as her cue to leave. Casting the old man a dirty look and a muttered goodnight, she briskly left. If Dumbledore would do nothing, then this would all be up to her.
-X-
Attempts of sleep were fruitless that night, Harry discovered as he tossed in his bed for the umpteenth time. The roller-coaster of emotions that had swarmed him should have left him drained but, apparently, he was just so emotionally exhausted that he found sleep a concept just out of grasp.
Another thing that didn't aid to his sleeping desire was the pain throughout his body. It hurt far more and for far longer than the Cruciatus Curse should hurt, not to mention the effect. After being cursed in his fourth year, Harry had read more up on the three unforgivable curses, and the more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed to be the Cruciatus. The Cruciatus Curse was torture on the mind – not the body. He was proof of that. His body's welts still not fully healed, but Harry suspected they mixed healing potions within his meals.
Turning again, he let out a yawn and stretched, hoping his sore body would get the message and relax. To his dismay, moving seemed like a bad idea; he only felt more awake than ever. He slowed his breathing to a tempo that seemed like the sleeping tempo, and tried to clear everything from his mind, concentrating only on the feeling of the breaths leaving him. Slowly, the lights seemed dimmer; his senses slowed... his eyes dropped...
He was standing in the shadowed edges of a large, circular room. It was made of a dark, brick-like material that gleamed a light green from the dimmed lighting. In appearance, the room seemed spaciously empty, apart from the ancient looking chandelier that hung from the high ceiling. Daunting, he would use to best describe his surroundings.
In the middle of the room stood too figures and, Harry took a step further into the shadows, he recognised one as Voldemort, the chalk-white, reptilian man was hard to mistake. The other had buried himself in a large dark cloak, and all Harry could figure out was that this was a male. On the other side of the room, a small bundle rested, occasionally tossing.
Voldemort and the other figure seemed to be talking, but Harry couldn't make out any of the words. It sounded like a spell had been cast to muffle the words from around them – their voices were more like vibration than actual voices – but he could tell Voldemort was planning something. As quietly as he could, Harry took a cautious step forward. Instantly, Voldemort had his snake-like, crimson eyes trained on Harry. The other male kept his eyes trained on Voldemort.
"Ah, Harry. How nice of you to join us. I'd introduce you, but I believe you've already met." Said the high and cold voice of Lord Voldemort. Harry winced, but took a defiant step forward. No point in hiding, he already knows I'm here.
"Don't be shy, come a little closer." And just like a puppet, Harry stepped closer. He tried to peer under the cloaked figures hood, but the person only lowered their head. All Harry caught was pale white skin and upturned lips, smirking.
It was impossible to think positive. He knew Voldemort would either torture him or make an attempt on his life. It was only a matter of time. He had a long night waiting for him, unless he woke up first. Or escaped. An idea gripped him to escape, or at least hold off the torture that was inevitably coming his way
"What is that?" Harry asked, feigning interest and nodding his head at the bundle whilst trying to discretely pinch himself awake. It didn't work, and Voldemort didn't answer, Harry had the feeling he would be better off not knowing, seeing the look of morbid delight when Voldemort looked at it.
The reptilian man spent another moment looking at it, before clearing his throat and facing Harry."I'm going to give you one last chance. Surrender, and I'll kill you quickly. If not -" His eyes flashed, and Harry didn't need to be able to see into the Dark Lord's mind to know he would be facing a lengthy and painful death. His decision, however, had long ago been decided.
"Never." Harry said, challenge lacing his tone. Voldemort tilted his head to the side, as if thinking.
"Why?" He asked, "You are trapped in a cell you will never escape from, if I don't decide to kill you first." He said, more than sure of himself.
"You're wrong. Dumbledore's trying to get me out, and so are the rest of the Order." Harry said, more to himself. It wouldn't help to lose confidence in his friends, especially to his words. He saw Voldemort's eyes gain an amused gleam, and the hooded figure's shoulders begin to shake in withheld laughter.
"You are a foolish boy, trusting that old coot. How about we make a new deal, join me, and I'll let you live." Voldemort said. Harry got the impression that it was more of a demand than an actual question, and a demand the Dark Lord had been tossing up deciding whether or not he would offer.
"I'll never join you, and Dumbledore will rescue me."
"No, he will not. Do you honestly think he is more concerned about a teenage boy than the possible return of the darkest and most powerful wizard in centuries?" Voldemort murmured. Harry didn't answer the question, he didn't need to. Voldemort could see the indecision in his eyes.
"Join me, boy, and I just might let you out." Voldemort said, with an air of persuasion. It was hard for Harry to deny that just a tiny, probably Slytherin, part of him wanted out, and to take Voldemort's offer. But Voldemort would surely kill him, the logical part of his mind argued.
"Of course, you would have to do something for me in return." He muttered. Harry took his chance and stepped back slowly. If he thought about it, it was more of a shuffling movement to put distance between himself and the monster that stood before him. When Voldemort showed no signs of noticing Harry, he took another small step back.
"What could a teenage boy possibly do for the most powerful dark wizard in centuries?" He snapped, earning a chuckle from the hooded figure. Harry had a feeling the cloaked person knew what he was up to, and waiting for the perfect moment to alert his master. Assuming that was the relationship that Voldemort and the cloaked man shared.
"What indeed?" His eyes flashed challengingly, but seeing Harry did not make a move to reply, he continued. "It is a task merely to prove your allegiance."
"I never said I'm going to join you. I would much rather die." Something akin to madness glinted in Voldemort's eyes, and Harry stopped his shuffling for the moment.
"That can be arranged." Voldemort grinned at him.
"Just like every other time you've 'killed' me?" Harry asked, ignoring their last meeting. Voldemort had almost killed him, and Harry had begged not to die. Feeling a foreign presence on the corner of his mind. Voldemort's demeanour changed at that moment, and Harry was increasingly being alert to his body – the real one – and it's discomfort.
"Very well, Potter, we'll be in touch." Voldemort said, aiming his wand. The world started to spin, quickly constricting until -
Nothing.
Harry blinked up into the dull light, more than annoyed at its existence than ever. Recently, he'd become used to sleeping on his stomach so he wouldn't have to wake up to the lights. It was a strategy that proved rather genius – Harry's mood was always best in the mornings. The more of the day that passed, the more depressing his situation became. Entertaining ones self in such a place proved very difficult – it was like his cell was specifically designed to hold as little entertainment as possible. Every part of him wished that one day that Voldemort would go through the same thing and, if he were bored enough, he would imagine just that.
With a groan, he shifted his body until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, resting his head on his hands. That dream... Voldemort had been up to something, something more than just trying to change Harry's allegiance. What, exactly, he did not know, but he could only guess how horrible it would surely be.
Absent-mindedly, he stroked his scar, still feeling the tell tale signs of pain. Since the time that Voldemort had returned, his scar had spent little time time without pain. He was fairly used to it now – it was more of an annoyance than an actual pain.
A heavy clunk and the sound of scraping metal pulled him from his thoughts. From the sounds, he knew it must be the time of breakfast, perhaps lunch if he had slept through breakfast. When getting to his feet, he got an idea.
"Hey, you!" He yelled as he stood pushed up to the wall. He didn't think it was likely to work, but it was definitely worth a shot.
"Yess?" that same voice from before hissed back. Harry jumped at the sound of it – all at once, it was speaking from everywhere, though it was no where to be seen.
"... What?" Harry murmured, feeling his face heat up at the concept of talking to a random voice which he could not see. His second year was enough to make him weary. This voice sounded English, however. He was almost sure of it. A mocking 'tut tut' sound echoed around him, and Harry felt like he was back at the Dursley's, scowling at his feet whilst his aunt – or uncle – would shout at him. "Manners, Potter," it whispered.
"Who and where are you?" Harry asked cautiously, expecting no answer. He didn't want to be declared crazy, like he had been so many times before, yet it was still better than hearing voices. Slimly.
"You don't know me, but we've known each other for years. As for where I am, I am where ever you are, Harry," it riddled, mockery and humour in it's voice, "why would you ask such a question?"
Harry was definitely not expecting that. It would seem obvious, he knew, if someone asked him, "What do you mean?"
"Manners, Harry. We start with introductions," Harry bit back a scowl, he had asked who it was, "and you may call me 'Master'."
Harry snorted at the tone of voice. It was a similar sound to Malfoy's lazy drawl when he was acting particularly bratty. As the voice started to quietly talk again, Harry couldn't help but reply. It was as though the months he'd suffered through silent confinement were adding up to something, and someone to talk to was the prize. If that was the case, then Harry wouldn't let this chance pass. He rather liked having someone, real or not, to talk too. It made his current situation so much more bearable. Anything was better than nothing.
Well, that's done. I apologise for the shortness and lateness, I've been very, VERY busy with things. It's a pain trying to juggle work, school, studying and writing this. Unfortunately, this comes last.
ANYWAY, I just want to make a quick note about the beginning – Dumbledore told everyone he DIDN'T see Voldemort at the ministry, but that doesn't mean the Order think Harry was lying. They still believe Harry about him returning. Just thought I'd clear that up, just in case :)