Disclaimer: Neither Lady-Treason, nor I own Harry Potter or anyone in his universe. But we will use him anyway we like, not crossing those legal lines. Vanteeras are Treason's and the brilliant ideas are mine. Hehe.

Like she said, the Vanteera idea and creature is entirely mine, though you will see it in other stories from challenges and such. I don't care what Tinks said, the basic plot was mine, she just fluffed it up… a little.

This story is co-written by Tinkering and Lady-Treason. I think so far we've agreed to do this chapter by chapter so…the short ones are mine that she'll probably be fluffing up, lol, and I don't think updates will be fast. Maybe once every two weeks?

The Last Vanteera: Betrayed and Betrayer

Chapter One

By Lady-Treason

"Are you sure about this? If anybody comes looking for him…"

"Nobody will come looking, Richard, I will simply say that the boy has been sent away to America for some training. I have a few connections who owe me favours … they will back me up on this."

Harry woke to the sound of an almost whispered conversation, but the words hardly registered as he shifted slightly and pain spread through his body. He tried to remember what had happened but little came back to him at the minute. He didn't dare open his eyes, sure that his head would explode with the light he could already see through his lids. He remembered the little mission that he had gone on with those five Aurors, remembered duelling with Voldemort … then remembered waking up in what was obviously Voldemort's mansion, being tended by the Dark Lord himself.

Or had that been a dream?

No, because then he had escaped and flown towards Hogwarts, revealing his secret in the process. He couldn't remember how far he had actually managed to get though, before the darkness took him. He did know one thing; he was not in Hogwarts now and the two people talking were obviously not allies. That was just his luck really.

He remembered what the Dark Lord had said about the Auror firing at him, Voldemort had been convinced that Dumbledore had been the one to order that, but that very idea was preposterous. It was laughable really, indeed, if he didn't think it would hurt him, he would be clutching his sides in hysterics by now. Albus Dumbledore, the man who was almost a grandfather to him, actually wanting to harm a hair on his head. Hilarious. If one put aside the fact that the man obviously cared for him, then one had to remember that Harry was, in fact, the Boy-Who-Lived; to harm him would be pure insanity.

Then again, he had always known that Voldemort was insane.

He groaned softly and pushed himself up slightly, his arms shaking under the stress of holding his own weight. He tried to reach out with his magic to see what was actually wrong with him, but found that he couldn't. His magic had been blocked. Had Voldemort found him again after he had escaped, before he could reach Hogwarts? He had been weak, and exhausted, and so it wouldn't really surprise him. So why wasn't he dead yet? But no, he had crashed on Hogwarts grounds…

Thoughts were swirling around in his mind almost erratically as he stayed still, on his knees with his palms pressed flat against the floor and his head bowed with his eyes closed. His magic was blocked. That little detail was nearly impossible to get his head around. He had never prepared for the possibility that this would happen. Yes, he knew muggle combat and hell did he know how to run … but he was too weak to even consider that now.

Still, he was sure that he was relatively safe for the time being. Voldemort was, after all, trying to convince him that he didn't want to kill him. He would just have to wait, slowly gather his strength … and then escape again. He just had to hope that the Dark Lord wasn't too pissed off by his leaving last time. Why the bloody hell was everything going wrong?

It would be fine though. Albus would have the whole Order working on finding him. They would come for him soon, all he had to do was hold on and trust in them. Albus … Remus … Sirius … the Weasleys … none of them would let him stay there long. He felt himself relaxing a little at that and relief washed through him in waves. Slowly the pounding in his head started to lessen as he calmed himself down as much as was physically possible.

Soon, he would be home.

… and he most certainly would not push for any more missions in the near future. It was irritating to say the least. He had had him! He had had Voldemort on the other end of the wand. The curse was very nearly over with and there had been no way that Voldemort could escape … until that goddamn Auror hit him from behind. He'd still have to figure out why that had happened. This could all have been over with by now. What relief he had just managed to find was slowly battered away by the stronger emotion of despair. The very thought of what had happened made him feel sick to the stomach.

Why would the Auror do that? Why would he want to stop him from killing Voldemort when he obviously wasn't working for the Dark Lord? Harry believed Voldemort that much at least, Albus would never send him with an Auror that wore the Dark Mark. Never. So why?

He could have pissing waited until after Harry had killed Voldemort!

He could feel the start of hysterics clawing and climbing up his throat along with the taste of bile and he stopped all thoughts from that direction and took some steady, deep, breaths.

"What if somebody comes after him?"

"Then I will stop them. Worry not Richard, you will be safe. I merely want you to keep him here; he needs to learn a lesson. I'm just trying to keep him safe."

Harry put his concentration onto finding out who those people were. He knew that one of them was familiar, but he wasn't sure who it was exactly. It certainly didn't sound like Voldemort though, nor any of his Death Eaters. He was pretty sure that he didn't know anybody by the name of 'Richard' either. So who the hell were they?

He tried to lift his head in their direction, if just so that he didn't have to move when he actually dared to open his eyes, but didn't even manage that. He cringed, feeling as if he was being weighed down by the pain in his head and barely had enough coherent thought to smother a groan so that he didn't alert anyone to his being awake.

He was cold … so cold … it felt as if he had ice wrapped around his lungs, cracking with each breath he took. He had fallen, he knew that much, and it had been quite away as well … but he had been on Hogwarts grounds. He should have been safely in the Hospital wing by now, all fixed up and munching on some cheerios or porridge while Madame Pomfrey stood over him tutting.

Instead, he was somewhere cold and… judging by what he could feel under him… he was laying on a wooden floor. Nowhere in Hogwarts had wooden floors. Dammit. This was seriously starting to take the piss.

"Are you sure about this? I mean, don't get me wrong, my business with thrive! But he isn't going to like this one bit, he may not forgive you."

"Of course he will, he was brought up by unfeeling muggles, he craves for affection and is eager to please, he could not possibly be unforgiving when I am all he has."

That second voice struck a chord inside him and he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Who was it? Who would betray him like this? It was betrayal … wasn't it? He knew that he wouldn't know anything until he opened his eyes, but he suddenly found a whole new reason for not wanting too. Gods, that voice was so familiar, but the harsh words were foreign, he couldn't put his finger on it. He didn't want to put his finger on it.

"You don't expect me to treat him well, do you?"

"No, no not at all. He needs to learn … he needs a firm hand to… guide him … treat him how you will." That second voice said again, mildly this time. The voices were getting closer and he could hear the sound of footsteps approaching him.

If he had it in him, he would drop back down and pretend to be asleep, but a part of him needed to know.

"His hardships will only make him stronger…"

His eyes snapped open.

He didn't care about the burning pain that flared up in his retinas as he stared straight ahead in disbelief. Now he knew who it was. Now he knew who had taken him from his home to … what the fuck was this?

He glanced around him, blinking rapidly to try and get what was obviously an illusion out of his sight. Nothing shifted. He saw that he was right about the wooden floor. If he was lucky, there was enough room for him to lie down straight in the middle with his feet poking through the bars. Yes. Bars. He was in a … cage. He was surrounding by thick metals bars.

A fucking cage!

His fears were confirmed when the two men he had heard speaking came into view and then stopped in front of his "cage" looking in on him. Blue twinkling eyes fixed on him then and Harry was struck dumb by the cheerful beaming smile that the old man wore. Was he missing something here?

"Hello Harry." Dumbledore said sternly and Harry lifted an eyebrow, looking at him.

"Headmaster?" He said, unconsciously reverting back to titles even though the old man had told him not to. He nearly cringed at the lost and confused tone buried in his words and he swallowed hard, trying to work some sense out of this. "Will you please let me out of here?"

"I'm sorry Harry, I can't do that." Dumbledore replied gravely, the twinkle dimming slightly. "It's for your own good."

"What? – I don't – what happened? – I don't understand." Harry whispered, his fingers curling around the bars as he heaved himself up slowly and carefully, grimacing in pain. "I didn't – I didn't do anything wrong. Please. How can putting me in a cage be for my own good?"

"Trust me Harry; it's for your own good, and the good of the wizarding world."

"But – I had him! I had him there at the end of my wand! I – I was – I was half way through the curse! It was nearly over! The Auror – he – he hit me from behind – I nearly did it!"

"Now Harry." Dumbledore almost snapped, but softened his expression as did his words immediately. "Now Harry, stop telling stories. It will do you no good now. You have to stay here."

"Stories." Harry whispered, his eyes filling with tears that he refused to let free. "You – you don't believe me. I – why? – You – you know I would never lie to you, I don't understand. How can you do this to me? How long are you keeping me here?"

"As long as it takes." Dumbledore replied with another bright twinkle, beaming at him again now. Harry blinked and backed away from the bars slowly, staring at the man in disbelief. "Don't worry, I will not let anybody see you like this Harry, you have nothing to fear there. I will simply explain to them that you've gone away for a light bit of training."

"No," Harry whispered, shaking his head slowly. "No, no, no, you can't do this to me, you cant, please! I don't understand what I did wrong! Sirius – Remus – the Weasleys – please, please don't keep them from me."

"I can do it, because it is for the good of the whole wizarding world."

"My magic." Harry said suddenly, snapping his head back up again. "You've – you've blocked it. You've blocked my magic. I don't-" he trailed off there when he saw the old man step forward with a wand in his hand.

"Yes Harry, it won't be forever, trust me." the Headmaster said again and then his smile faltered. "I – I don't want to do this to you Harry, but you leave me with no choice. I will come for you." Then, without waiting for Harry to reply, he lifted his wand and muttered a series of incantations.

Before Harry could even try to work out what he was doing, he felt a searing pain spread through his back and he cried out, falling back to his knees instinctively. The pain only intensified, burning, tearing, ripping, pulling, it hurt too much for words and he could feel his wings breaking out of his back, being forced. He shouted out, trying to ask what he was doing, but he swallowed his words with a strangled hiss as the last part of the gristle of his wings tore out and the slimy covering foretold his growing feathers.

They spread out automatically, hitting the side of the bars and he tried to close his eyes and will them to retract again, but it was as if there was a wall behind that particular part of his mind. He couldn't do it. He fell, panting, to the floor, trying to still his trembling body as the tears spilled from his eyes.

"It's for the best my boy, you'll only grow stronger."

He felt another wave of magic sweeping over him, this time changing the well-made dueling pants into something like rags, actually managing to do worse than the Dursleys gave him. Harry whimpered and then dragged himself over to the bars again oblivious to the fact that he was on his knees.

"Please sir, please don't leave me here – I'll be good I promise – I won't question you. I learnt… – please." He whispered, looking up at him imploringly. Dumbledore merely turned his back to him and then walked away, without even looking back.

"But Sir," Tom put down his quill. "Please I, I'm…physically, afraid for myself." Tom flushed.

"Do not be afraid. You will always have people who care about you and a home to come back to no matter what happens." And he continued with his work.

The memories of what Voldemort forced into his head burned behind his eyes as his tears continued to slide down his cheek, leaving a streak in the mud there. He tried to push them away so that he could concentrate on his own confusion but they wouldn't leave him alone. He fell unconscious to the sound of those six words bouncing around his mind.

"His hardships will make him stronger."


Harry hugged his legs tightly, pressing his forehead to his knees as he rocked backwards and forwards, wings cocooning his body. They'd been travelling for a few hours earlier. They were set up where…people could come see him. It was like a zoo…only made up of freaks like him, his captor had said. Richard, Al-Dumbledore's friend. Harry's whole body shivered violently.

He couldn't believe…it was true. What Voldemort had said. It was all true. He didn't know if Albus was going mental or what but he really thought that this, this, was for Harry's good! He'd even think this was a one-day thing, a few days at most, if not for the fact they were moving. And Dumbledore had never punished him before. There was a difference between points and detention, even one with Filch, and being locked in a cage, shut off from his magic and being viewed by muggles as a freak show.

His cage was parked in front of a muggle playing field on some rickety dirt lane. He was actually backing the fields and looking into the forest away from the people. He could hear them. They were back there looking at the other…performers. They were willing to show off their abnormalities. They didn't have to be kept in cages. And they were all simple little things wrong with them. No, Harry was the star of the show. Only for special viewing, Richard had said, Harry shuddered, while he practically drooled over him. Richard had also said they would get lots of attention as they were following after a circus that was in England. When they left one site, his freak show followed. From London, to Wales to Manchester, next month. Which meant Richard was planning on keeping him for at least a month!

Some voices were getting closer…Richard's, and some kids. They sounded like kids. Harry huddled in deeper on himself. He didn't want anyone to see him. He didn't want to be ogled at. He wasn't a freak! He was a wizard! He was a Vanteera!

"Whas this special jus' for…wha' was the word he used?" A male joked around. There was a pause then a loud, bawdy laugh. "Yeah, thas it! Enterprising!" There was more laughter all around. "So whas this special for enterprising people eh?" The voices grew louder, closer.

"You group of kids get to see our star. Wait, hold there, let me make sure he's looking good." Richard came around the side of the cage and looked inside. All he could see were a pair of tan feet, rocking and those pure black wings hiding the boy. "Come on boy! Don't hide your face." Richard's smile turned glassy and his eyes fogged. "You're beautiful. Those wings…pitch black…"

"Wings!" A female voice, incredulous joined Richard's in front of his cage and her gasp brought her other friends stampeding to the front of the cage.

"Is tha'…human?" The first voice asked again in quiet awe.

"Ooh, it's wings are so pretty!" A girl cooed. "Make it lift up its head."

Richard blinked, vision clearing. "Yes, yes! Of course." He looked around the ground before picking up a nearby stick. "Come on boy. Let them see you." The boy stayed huddled. "Don't be like that! You're a star…come on!" Then the stick went in and poked into a feathered wing.

Harry screeched and opened his wings aggressively, pushing the stick away. His green eyes flashed dangerously at the group of six staring in at him and he felt the tingling of his claws wanting to grow but they were blocked to him, as was his magic. He flapped his wings with a sharp 'snap' sound and bared his teeth.

"Whoa," A punk looking youth with black scraggly hair, which Harry identified as the first voice stepped forward. "Shite, how'd he geh' wings?"

The two girls of the group stepped forward with dreamy expressions. "He's so pretty…"

"Look at his eyes…beautiful." The second girl breathed.

"Get away from that thing! It's creepy!" The two other boys pulled the girls back. "That thing ain't right. I mean, fuck, it has wings."

"Now, now boys. He's just another one of our performers." Richard gave a big, fake smile.

"Hell, how'd you get them things on him then? I mean come on! 'e's here using 'em! It's not like that woman that could bend into a circle and roll for fuck's sake. Fucking wings!" One of the boys pointed into the cage where Harry had shrunk against the wall, glaring out, wings folding and unfolding.

"I thin' he's…" The black-haired boy stepped forward uncertainly. "Pretty." Harry's eyes narrowed and he slid down the back of his cage, hugging his wings into him as the boy reached through the bars, licking his lips.

"Dew! Man, what the hell're you doin' man?"

"You're really pretty…" 'Dew' whispered as his fingers reached the feathers of one large wing and he stroked softly. He moaned at the silk-smoothness and lifted his lustful eyes to Harry's with a leer.

"Don't touch me!" Harry rasped desperately, flinging his wings open again and slapping the groping hand away.

"Be careful there. He's a charmer this one." Richard pulled the boy away, as he grumbled loudly and clutched his hand.

"Tha' beast hit me!"

"We told you it wasn't safe man!" The friend who spoke was frowning at Dew. "I, didn't know you, err, swung that way man…"

The girl next to him crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. "Yeah Dew."

The boy blinked then stomped forward angrily. "I do not! That little freak!" He gestured wildly to the cage. "Means nothing to me! He should be shot down! The thing's dangerous!" He picked up the stick Richard had used to poke Harry.

"Now…boys." Richard started nervously.

The first boy sneered. "Gonna stop me?" He stuck it in the cage and lashed out at Harry, grinning wildly at the yelp. "Gonna stop me hitting your freak?"

Harry flung out his wings and lunged forward at the wrong time as the stick came down again, catching him on the shoulder. He propelled himself back with a cry as the group outside laughed and Dew lashed out again.

"Useless freak." He smiled smugly. With one last whack around Harry's legs he pulled out the stick and threw it away. "There. Now maybe I won' press charges for your freak hittin' me!"

Two of the boys high-fived each other and they all walked away laughing together. Richard stepped forward shaking his head slowly.

"Now look what you went and made him do." Harry glared up, eyes welling in pain, as he refused to be crying. "Now don't look at me like that. You brought it on yourself. You'll learn to just sit and be pretty. Eventually." Richard smiled and started to walk away. "Oh and I'll put in a bucket for you to use…you know, later." He laughed. "Try not to top off too soon okay? There'll be shows everyday but you're only going to have it changed once a week. Or two."

Harry hunkered down in the corner, his bruised wing, loosely tucked and his legs curled under him protectively. He ignored Richard as he laughed, walking away and shivered, trying to huddle into himself again. Dumbledore wouldn't leave him like this right? Not, not like this…


Apparently, he would.

It had been just over a week now since the Headmaster had brought him here and left, claiming it to be for the good of the Wizarding world. He had, of course, tried to see it in all directions, if just to find a logical explanation from any point of view as to how this could be for the best. He gave in sometime around the third day.

Nobody would ever be able to understand what it felt like to be laughed and pointed at all day. Some people, like those teenagers, were just plain nasty and threw stuff at him whenever they could. Most, though, simply stood there gawping, pointing and laughing. It wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't constantly reminded that he was the biggest freak of the whole lot of them.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined something like this happening. Nobody had come for him, had come to free him. A part of him was grateful for that. He was dirty, he was starting to smell, he was bruised and he was very slowly starting to break.

The other half of him pointed out that Remus and Sirius would come for him. They could find him; they would never let him stay here. That one hope, that wish, was all that helped him hold onto his sanity but as the days wore on, so did his patience. He had, of course, tried breaking out. His magic was blocked, but as he had been forced into his natural form and held there like that, he also had his strength. Under normal circumstances, it would have been perfectly easy to bend those bars and slip out into the night. But - there appeared to be wards around them too.

The first three days, he had done everything he could. He had asked nearly everybody who approached his cage to let him out, had even resorted to begging them. He had screamed, he had raged, he had shouted and he had attempted to break through the bars with his body, again, and again, and again.

Now though, he knew that he was stuck like this until such time as Albus Dumbledore decided that he had been punished enough. He wished he knew what he had done so terribly wrong, perhaps then he could have accepted it a little easier. He remained silent and kept his head down and his eyes lowered, not glancing up at anybody who approached him, trying desperately to ignore the taunts…

Thankfully now, the show was closed for the night, which must mean that it was after midnight. That was basically the only way he had to tell the time nowadays, by the opening and shutting of the little freak show.

It was almost pitch black now, apart from one or two lights that were on in the caravans surrounding his cage. He welcomed the darkness, as he always did. It was as if said darkness was all that gave him sanity, away from the taunting mortals. Oh how he had come todislike muggles.

He heard a loud smash somewhere to the right and he flinched slightly but didn't dare look that way in case he attracted attention. The smash was soon followed by a door being slammed open so hard that it bounced back and, apparently, hit the person in the face if the grunt and snarl was anything to go by.

He drew back from the bars of the cage and curled up in the corner, feigning sleep. He knew who it was immediately, from the smell, but that didn't appease him in the slightest. He loathed Richard more than he did the rest of the muggles who came to see him but refused to help. He loathed Richard almost … but only almost … as much as he loathed Albus Dumbledore.

A hiss escaped him before he could even try to stop it. The same hiss that rose inside him every time he even thought of the name of the headmaster. Unfortunately, he did exactly what he was trying not too … he attracted attention to himself.

"Still 'wake are yuh? Waitin' fer me eh?" Richard leered, his left hand curling tightly around the bars until his knuckles turned white… the other hand held a large bottle of what appeared to be vodka. Great. He was pissed.

Harry didn't answer.

"Oye, freak, ans-swer meh when m'talkin ter yuh!" the growl came again, though this time it was followed by the sound of chains clinking and Harry looked up just as his cell door burst open. He stared, stunned for a minute, but before he could even think about trying to run, Richard proved that he was quite agile while pissed as a fart.

He lunged.

The first blow left Harry completely in surprise, so much so that he actually managed to startle a yelp of pain and shock out of him. But Richard didn't pause to take satisfaction in that, didn't pause enough for Harry to even begin to get his mind around what was happening, he just punched. And kicked. And punched… and actually bit.

Harry, of course, caught on pretty soon after that and he started to do everything he could to throw the older man off him. He clawed out with his hands, kicked and bucked, but none of it worked. Richard was much heavier than him, and he was weak from the measly food he was given.

He had no magic.

Oh how he hated Albus Dumbledore.


AN: I actually wrote a part of this...guess what!#grins proudly#

And...I've started my ahem, tertiary education. Which means, slooooow writing, spaced out updating. But, as Vanteera is almost all written out we can keep posting steadily. Just the people that read my other things...I'm so sorry. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.

And it's time for 'Becca says:' ! Becca says: "..." #grins# she knows she can't use my real name. So that comment has been disqualified. HEHEHEHE! She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-In-Any-Public-Place-Or-Forum!