Chapter 4: Possessed
"Why do you not eat him?"
"His meat would not enrich me any, Nagini," Voldemort smirked. "Though if I ever decide to get rid of him you will have first pick."
Harry silently followed Voldemort throughout Hogwarts. Death Eaters flanked him on either side. They wore triumphant looks on their faces and were staring lovingly at their master, as if observing a deity.
Sickening, Harry thought.
Harry remembered the look on the student's faces in the Great Hall and pulled his head up in defiance. He remembered how broken and weakened he had looked. The looks on their faces showed that they believed all hope was lost. Now that he thought of it, he closed his eyes - he could not bear to remember their faces, frozen in shock at their fallen hero, the one they had once believed would pull them out of the hell Voldemort had created.
Hogwarts, the place Harry had once called home, was now a mere reflection of the Pure-Blood beliefs that Voldemort adhered so strongly to. Now he was a prisoner in Voldemort's hell, a battle trophy to be put on display.
Harry glanced outside one of the tall windows. It was mid-afternoon now, and he could see students begin to come out onto the lawns and rest under the trees. He would never be able to do that with his friends again. Ron and Hermione, no doubt they were still here, might be going outside right now to talk about the events that had just transpired.
If it all, he would live for the chance to see his friends again.
They had reached a gargoyle and Harry realized suddenly that it was Dumbledore's old office. Voldemort turned around with his serpentine face curled into a grin.
"I'm sorry to say Dumbledore is not here anymore, Potter," he said softly, and the Death Eaters laughed nastily behind him. "He seems to have…abandoned the post."
Harry gritted his teeth in anger, refusing to look at the demon's eyes. Satisfied that he had efficiently goaded Harry, Voldemort ran a long finger down the center of the gargoyle's head. Its eyes were lifeless and it did not spring to life as it once had, instead sinking into the ground.
Voldemort beckoned Harry up the stairs, and he had no choice but to follow, his scar pounding harder than ever. Harry was reminded strongly of a funeral procession - Voldemort in front, Death Eaters walking silently at his back and him in the center. A horrible feeling crept up into his stomach, one that told him he was never going to see the outside of the office again.
Then Voldemort's spider-like fingers were on the doorknob and the door swung open, revealing a place that was unlike any other Harry had ever seen.
Voldemort had turned Dumbledore's office into a majestic looking room. Long columns held up the wall, surrounded by serpents. A blazing fire roared in a gigantic fireplace, basking the room in a warm light. The walls were not brick or stone, as Harry had supposed a dungeon might look like but of plaster, with tapestries hanging from its walls. Behind the fireplace, carpet lead up to what looked like to be a throne of a king. To one side of the throne, the sword of Gryffindor was laid in a case.
It did not look like the room of a demon but rather that of a conquerer.
Now that they were inside, Voldemort had taken off his traveling cloak. He was watching Harry look around and his face was expressionless. Now he waved a bony hand towards the Death Eaters, who bowed and left. Harry could see their faces were alight with curiosity.
Voldemort flicked his wand towards the door and a strange musical sound emitted from the door. Harry had no doubt it was a spell to keep him from escaping or to put up wards.
Now Harry stood in the middle of the room, still flanked in chains. His heart was trying to escape his chest, pounding desperately against his ribcage. His scar hurt so badly that he thought if he made any movement he might fall over from the pain. He was distantly aware of Voldemort approaching him.
"Evanesco," said Voldemort. Harry's arms fell to his sides as the chains instantly disappeared. The pain in his scar was still raging, however, and Harry faltered as Voldemort stepped closer. Harry didn't like the look in his eyes, they were strange and maniacal.
"Do you feel pain, Potter?" Voldemort said softly, stepping even closer. Harry took a step back with his hand planted firmly to his scar.
"Ah," said Voldemort, "You do. A little pain helps everyone, Potter," he sneered, causing Harry to fall to the floor as he took another step towards him, "as you shall soon learn. However, I wish you to be alert at this moment, so-"
Another wave of Voldemort's wand, and the pain had vanished from his forehead. He looked slowly up at Voldemort, who was watching him impassively.
"A spell of my own invention," he said, "that will stop the pain for a short time. Now rise, I have much to show you as you will be spending quite a lot of time in here. I expect you to pay attention."
Harry thought Voldemort sounded rather like a professor, strangely enough. But he had nothing else to do and not welcoming more pain he got up and followed Voldemort into a door leading off the main room.
They walked into a large kitchen. It was unlike any Harry had ever seen before. It was several times the size of Molly Weasley's, and at least twice as big as the Hogwarts kitchens. Several cauldrons were boiling on green fires, and knives were chopping up ingredients at their own command. Harry looked up at the ceiling and saw hundreds of dried spices hung up on ropes. Cured meat hung from strings and boxes and boxes of goods rested up on shelves. It seemed that it was set up to accomodate large amounts of people.
Harry looked back at Voldemort wordlessly, not knowing what to think.
"Come," said Voldemort, and Harry followed him into what looked like a suite. It was a huge room with a four poster bed twice the size of what he had at Hogwarts previously and several sofas. Another blazing fire roared in a fireplace. Voldemort sat down in one of the armchairs and beckoned Harry to do the same.
"Now, Harry," said Voldemort, twisting his fingers together, "You know why I have brought you here." Harry looked into his eyes and tried not to shudder.
"Despite my other duties," Voldemort began, "I find it important to look after the youths of Hogwarts and to oversee their educational development. Now that my Death Eaters are in the government I can see to my leisure and personal interests."
Harry said nothing, although he was boiling inside.
"Now you, Harry," said Voldemort, and Harry thought he could detect anger radiating off Voldemort, "were the savior of the Wizarding World, the reason they all thought I was gone. You had been missing for two years and now you return, weak and helpless. However, it would do me no good to kill you. You would look like a martyr. The last thing we need are ridiculous children revolting due to their precious hero's death," Voldemort sneered.
"Therefore, you will be seen as and placed under my control. You will accompany me to important functions, as the pathetic little slave you will be, and be in my service at all times. I have taken your magic away and now you are no more than a Squibb, which suits you perfectly. The whole of Hogwarts students will see your shame and learn that if they chose to wander down the same path as you have, they will end up the same way."
"You bastard!" Harry yelled, finally cracking. "Do you actually think I'm going to sit down and let you take control of my life? You're tortured me for years, now end it!"
"Ah, but Harry," said Voldemort, a sneer creeping up his face, "Death is not an option for you. And should you chose to disobey me-"
He waved his wand, and a picture of two people appeared out of thin air-two people Harry knew very well.
"Ron and Hermione," he whispered. Tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes as he stared at them hungrily. He did not care that Voldemort was smiling triumphantly at him. They were there, alive.
"Your little friends are already on the brink of punishment, so any wrongdoing on your part will ensure that they feel the most pain possible," said Voldemort coldly. "I will see to it that I will punish them personally and you, Potter, will be a witness to your crime."
Harry stared desperately at Voldemort, but he knew he was right.
"Depending on your behavior," Voldemort continued, "I shall allow you out of the room on brief visits. I do not wish for someone of your stature to be educated, but we may see if you are to be allowed brief visits to some of your - friends." He sneered at the word.
"What do you really want from me, Voldemort?" Harry spat, getting to his feet. He was sick of all these games. "Why are you keeping me here? We both know there are other ways of keeping me alive. Why do you want me here?"
Voldemort's eyes shone with anger. "I thought I made that clear, Potter," he sneered.
"You obviously have another purpose!" Harry shouted. Voldemort stared at him, his face now a mask of boredom.
"Finished?" said Voldemort coolly as Harry stood there in anger, panting. "I have no use for your little tirades."
He snapped his fingers, and a House-Elf appeared. They were the one thing in Hogwarts that hadn't really changed at all. Small and servile, the House-Elf bowed.
"Show Potter to his rooms," the Dark Lord said "and his accommodations. I wish him back here in half an hour."
Then he swept from the room, the door banging shut behind him. Harry felt a small victory over having angered Voldemort, and followed the House-Elf into a small door without resistance.
The House-Elf looked a bit frightened, but cheered up as he looked up at Harry, obviously happy to have a new master. "Honored to have you in Hogwarts, Harry Potter!" squeaked the House-Elf, leading Harry through a small door. Harry couldn't help but notice that instead of the rags that they usually wore, they now wore small black cloaks with a Dark Mark embellished on them. The elf bounced happily as he opened the door and bowed Harry in.
Harry didn't know what to expect. Would Voldemort stick him into a dungeon with rats? Would he be forced to sleep on the floor like he did whenever the Dursleys were forced to take him somewhere, like the hut on the rock?
He was a bit surprised to see it look like an ordinary bedroom apart from the fact that the bed's headboard was carved out of fake snakes and everything in the room seemed to have something with a snake on it. Harry noticed a small table with a green potion resting on it.
"What's that potion for?" Harry asked the elf curiously, but the elf shook its head and pointed towards the small wardrobe.
"All your clothes will be in there, Harry Potter," said the elf. Then the elf walked over to the emerald curtains and drew them open, letting sunlight spill into the room. Harry blinked at the flood of light spilling into the room. He walked over to the window and saw students milling around in the courtyard outside, talking to one another. A feeling of loneliness washed over him.
"When am I going to be let out of here?" he asked quickly. The elf looked at him, the smile vanishing from his pointed face.
"I don't know, Harry Potter," said the elf. "I only does what the Grand Master tells me to sir."
Voldemort, thought Harry with anger. No doubt he would have fashioned a new name to develop fear amongst the students.
Harry looked up and saw fear on the elf's face at his anger. He forced a smile onto his face. No matter what his predicament it wasn't the elf's fault.
"Thanks for showing me around," he said with a smile. The elf nodded cautiously and then looked at a clock on the wall.
"Grand Master wishes you to be back in half an hour, Harry Potter, so feel free to explore your chambers," said the elf and then he left without a word.
Harry sat down on the bed, his head throbbing. He couldn't quite believe that Voldemort hadn't punished him yet. A part of him knew, and Harry's stomach twisted at the thought, that Voldemort wouldn't just let him be his servant. He had something else planned.
Harry jumped: someone was knocking at the door. He glanced at the clock hurriedly; it hadn't been half an hour yet.
The door opened and Voldemort walked in. He was wearing robes of emerald satin and a smile.
"My lunch does not prepare itself, Potter," he said. "As your first act as my slave, I wish you to prepare me a meal. I hope it is satisfactory as the House-Elves'. I will be waiting for an hour. Only one hour."
Voldemort turned and walked out of the room, leaving Harry's stomach churning. He was a good cook due to his experience at the Dursleys but cooking for Voldemort?
Harry knew he couldn't refuse so he walked slowly to the kitchen, pulled out a cookbook, and started from there.
Thirty minutes later found Harry poring over a cookbook while stirring a steaming pot of soup with his free hand. A chicken was already roasting in the oven, the best of the meats Harry had found in the cupboard (the others had nearly made him sick). Harry was going for something simple: he didn't wish to impress Voldemort and he didn't want to mess up and be punished for any mistakes. Harry had, in desperate hope, looked for ingredients that might be used for a poison but had realistically failed to find any.
Finally the soup was ready and Harry took a tray, placed a bowl of soup and a plate of chicken with some pumpkin juice on it and took it out to the silent dining hall. Voldemort was waiting at the table with his snake Nagini on his arm. The snake hissed at Harry when he entered.
"Down, my dear Nagini," Voldemort muttered petting the snake.
"The boy smells so much better than the food," hissed the snake discontently, staring at Harry. "Why do you not eat him?"
"His meat would not enrich me any, Nagini," Voldemort smirked, "Though if I ever decide to get rid of him you will have first pick."
"Thank you Master," the snake hissed. She continued to stare at Harry, twisting around Voldemort's arm as she did so. Feeling nervous, Harry walked quickly over to Voldemort and set the dishes in front of him and then turned around, hoping to exit as quickly as possible.
"Not so fast, Harry," came Voldemort's amused voice from behind him. Harry froze. "I wish to have you in my quarters at seven o' clock. I have quite a few things to discuss with you, as long as…a therapy session of sorts."
Harry did not like the idea of a "therapy session" at all, but he did not dare disagree. He gave a short nod and hurried away, Voldemort's laughter ringing in his ears.
"But why hasn't Voldemort killed him yet?" murmured a quiet voice.
Albus Dumbledore was beginning to be afraid that he was too smart for his own good. Naturally, he prided himself on his ability to predict events that usually happened. Harry's life, in particular, was a challenge, but he thought he had figured out most of it.
He knew that Harry was Voldemort's Horcrux. All the evidence pointed to it: Harry's uncanny ability to see through the snake's eyes, to speak the snake's language, his miraculous survival of the Killing Curse…"
The snake. Albus stared out at the pouring rain, sinking farther into the armchair he was seated in.
The snake, of course, was the essence divided. Harry could see through Nagini's eyes and as she was the only living Horcrux other than Harry, they obviously had a connection.
But what if the snake was not only Nagini, but something else? A symbol - a parasite made when the transfer of souls from Voldemort to Harry was made that Halloween night, a ever-growing parasite that was growing by the day? Dumbledore knew this parasite had worked both ways before: it gave Harry dangerous insights to Voldemort's everyday doings and deepest secrets. So why had Voldemort not ended the connection, fearing for his own safety?
Manipulation had been Dumbledore's first thought. He thought that Voldemort might manipulate the strange connection to make Harry do his bidding and turn the savior of the Wizarding World against it. But no…Voldemort had perfered to keep Harry locked up for two years, keeping him in close proximity with him and giving him a dose of torture every once in awhile…
And why would Voldemort desire for Harry to be his slave? Voldemort had heard the prophecy by now, he was sure of it, and he must have changed his it was not only to have a trophy or a symbol of defeat. Dumbledore was convinced it was more than that, a dangerous and deeper connection than one between prisoner and torturer, one that Voldemort was using as an experiment. Voldemort was always looking for more power, for more immortality-and Dumbledore feared Harry might be on the receiving end of such an experiment.
Dumbledore sighed, resting his head against his hand. The roaring fire was giving him no warmth, even his Muggle candies failed to please him. They had failed Harry, failed when they let him be captured, failed when the attempts to rescue him had fallen short, and failed when the Order was forced to go into hiding.
Absentmindedly Dumbledore picked up the Inquirer. Normally he would not read such a rag, but he thought the mindless stories, even if they were written by Death Eaters, would help keep his mind off Harry.
And then there was an article on Harry.
Dumbledore could not stop himself from reading: how Harry's magic had been stripped from him, how he was now Voldemort's enslaved. How the practice was now going around the Wizarding community, and how Harry deserved what he had got. Dumbledore turned over the paper in disgust.
On the back of the paper was a small picture of a lion being throttled by a snake. The snake was slowly enveloping the lion, darkening out its magnificent mane, so much that it was almost no longer visible except for a small emerald eye.
And then something clicked quite suddenly.
"Minerva!" he called, throwing down the paper and rushing down the stairs. "I need you!"
The Inquirer blew into the fire, scorching in the blazing flames.
Harry was beginning to like green, and he didn't want to admit it.
He had always hated the green, silver, and snake symbols of Slytherin, but now he had to admit they had some sort of sinister beauty. He almost felt like he was home as he combed his room, looking at all the snake-shaped furniture.
Voldemort had supplied him with some basic black cloaks, all of which he was disgusted to see had the Dark Mark on them. He finally found some with a single coiling snake on them and pulled them on, throwing his tattered robes to the floor.
Harry was surprised to find that there was a small revolving door in the corner of the room. It lead to a small loft which was filled with books. It was a cozy sort of place, with a small window. It was a tiny space filled with comfortable looking armchairs. Harry could see himself relaxing there. He backed away slowly and went downstairs.
It was nearing seven o' clock when Harry left his room. The main quarters were empty and Harry figured Voldemort must be in the sitting room. He pulled open the doors with snake handles.
Voldemort was sitting in an armchair reading a book. Nagini was strangely missing from the scene. He looked up and smiled as Harry entered, a smile that sent shivers down Harry's spine.
"So nice to see you here, Potter. I thought you might put up more of a fuss, but it seems like I have taught you well. Come sit down next to me."
Voldemort was watching him with a slight smile and a strange look in his burning red eyes. Harry slowly crossed the room and sunk into an armchair near Voldemort.
"Now, Harry," he said softly, "This must be a strange experience for you. Please…share some of your thoughts."
Before Harry could move, Voldemort had slid closer to Harry. He was so close to Harry that he could smell his breath. Harry fought the urge not to vomit.
And then memories - memory after memory, the Dursley's, Hogwarts, the Triwizard Tournament, the dungeon he was kept in, Cho kissing him, his fake memory of Sirius being tortured - were all running through his brain.
"No…" Harry muttered, his voice shaking… "Don't look at those…"
Voldemort hissed more loudly in his ear, and Harry was reminded strongly of a snake circling in on his prey.
Memory after memory washed through his brain, all circling around fear and the traumatic events of the past few months. Harry was distantly aware of Voldemort placing a bony finger on his scar and the pain that flared up from it, a yell coming out of his mouth…
And then there was a snake, the snake that Harry barely knew yet was growing more familiar with all the time…It grew in his mind, blocking out those bad memories, a glowing light in the darkness…Harry embraced it. It took him away from the pain and Voldemort.
Then his mind acted for him: the snake had taken over and now was ordering him to bow before Voldemort. Despite this act of servitude, Harry knew he was more powerful than ever before. He was at the service of the most powerful wizard ever to live.
"Master…" he murmured.
"Here at last," said Voldemort triumphantly, and Harry felt a flare of happiness run through his veins.
Voldemort laughed.
"It is only a short amount of time until you are freed, my wonderful," he hissed, stroking Harry's scar. "A mere boundary, a mere mind separates us…but once that is broken you will be my true slave."
Then something came rushing back to Harry, there was a voice in his head that screamed No! and his emerald eyes flew to Voldemort in horror as he saw himself bowing at the feet of his nemesis.
"NO!" Harry screamed and backing away from Voldemort, groped for a wand that wasn't there. Voldemort stared at him, anger flashing in his eyes. "You won't take control of me! You can't-"
Voldemort ran forward and grabbed Harry by the head, the palm of his hand covering Harry's scar. Harry screamed in anguish, trying to pull away, but Voldemort held him fast.
"You are mine, boy, do not forget," Voldemort hissed dangerously. "I allow you to live for one reason: for my amusement. Leave me!"
He threw Harry from him and Harry fled, slamming the door behind him. Tears ran down his face as he dashed into his room and slammed the door. He knew he ought to feel ashamed of sobbing, but the snake had made him feel like he had never before. It had awakened a part of him that Harry somehow knew had been there all along and given him a different kind of hope. It wasn't the hope that kept Harry living, the hope that he might one day be with his friends. It was the hope that Harry would one day be Voldemort's closest companion, his slave.
"Harry?"
The voice came from the darkness and Harry spun around just as the invisible figure launched at him and threw him to ground. A cloak fell off his invisible attacker and obscured his view of the ceiling. Harry pulled it off himself and whirled around, facing a wand pointed straight at his heart.
