Short Note: thoughts are in italics, but so are the parts with Parseltongue. Sorry for any confusion.


Wake the ones and rise tonight…

Ghostly voices echo through the empty field, coming together in a chorus of people singing at different pitches, but all in step with each other.

...Fallen souls…we shine so bright…

Giddiness and loyalty make my heart beat hard. The singsong chant came in low but grew as they moved closer.

Rise now and ever…forgotten memories…

Nothing can defeat me. I will tear them all down. I will destroy all opposition. I will make him proud. I will make his dreams come true.

Rise now and ever…forgotten memories…

My voice rises up from my throat as I enter into the stream of voices with the other loyalist surrounding around me.

No one can touch us!


Harry stared at the crystalline, multifaceted gold eyes just inches from his own. Both pairs blinked lazily before moving even closer. They were very similar to Nagini's eyes, but held none of the warmth. These eyes were curious, frightening. Something warm and slightly bumpy brushed across his face, startling Harry upright. He felt smooth glass at his back that sapped heat from his small form. The eyes moved closer and Harry moved back a step. The cold glass pillar Harry had his back to wobbled ominously before toppling over completely. Large glass shards viciously tore at the overly baggy, threadbare pants the boy had on, stolen from the closet of the Dursleys' only child. The boy could feel hot blood running down his legs, but no pain. As soon as the high-pitched sound of breaking glass echoed out in the darker-than-pitch room, a low buzzing filled the space. The noise built and built, reverberating against the walls to clash against itself and build even more.

Blue light flowed softly, starting from the floor, but rising quickly to surround Harry. All around him, all he could see was a nimbus of blue light. Suddenly the glow turned harsh, blinding him just as the darkness had before. His vision swam, green eyes fading to red, then blue. Harry's mind was filled with the blue light, blank to all else, as his arm raised as if to grasp the light in his hand. However, before he could lift it, something grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him out of a now-open door. His feet hit solid stone, but he feel to his knees as the world upended itself. Harry's stomach churned, but there was nothing to throw up but bile, which he quickly swallowed.

Before him, a man in black was talking to him, but he couldn't hear as his ears were stilled filled with the buzzing. The scene felt oddly familiar. The man's hands rose to cup Harry's ears and then he said something Harry couldn't make out. His ears popped painfully, but the buzzing faded away.

"There, now you can hear." Green eyes met black and suddenly, Harry felt and heard things. Panic. …Could have killed him…Fear….Glass all over him…Blood everywhere…Anger. Surprise. The minuscule boy jerked his head away, his neck made a sickening crunch. The man snapped his hands to his chest, eyes wide and pupils dilated as he regained control of himself. Harry was elated that the voices had quieted and kept his head down to avoid it happening again.

"Well…," the man flicked his fingers and the blood Harry had forgotten about disappeared and his legs grew stiff as if bound. "That will hold for now, but you must come back to the Infirmary." A loud thump echoed throughout the room, stopping the man cold. The color drained from his face and he quickly ran to a door. Another loud thump echoed as the man opened the door just a tiny bit, bright blue light consumed the room until it was shut again.

Stupid man, locking Nerval in.

Stupid bugs, blinding Nerval.

Harry looked at the floor in surprise at the snake speaking to itself, quite literally. A two-headed pit viper was wrapped around the man's feet, shaking its -heads? - as if confused. "My apologies Nerval, I had no idea you were napping in there." It unwrapped its thick black scaled body, like that of a mamba, from its master and tried to move his way. The left head pulled in the other direction, the six inches of neck after the splitting stretched tight, but the right quickly won control.

Stupid boy. The right head lunged at the left, hitting its eye with its jaw.

Scared boy. It turned towards him, now only a foot away. The gold eyes bored into him as if he was an uninvited guest come for dinner. What are you?

Harry Potter. Both heads shook there heads in unison.

What are you? Harry didn't know what else he was; he had never been asked that before. Faintly, he could feel his master stirring deep in his mind, but he didn't ask for help. Something told him that it was his question to answer.

A hand on his shoulder startled Harry from his thoughts. "Come now, the whole castle is looking for you. Even Peeves." Before he could answer, before he could even really comprehend what was said or the reason for the soft voice, the smothering presence of his master seeped even deeper into him.

Allow me. Control was taken away from him then, but this time it calmed instead of panicked him. Harry let himself just float in the calm sea that was the peace he felt with him in his head. "Let the fools search." The voice coming from his throat was faint and scratchy, but held a simmering power just underneath the surface, waiting for use. "I have some things to discuss with you." The man just stared, obviously shocked. "Oh come now Severus, surely you, of all my most favored friends, had not assumed that I was gone, over, finite?"

"Wha-how?" Laughter echoed from the place in his mind that his master held in control. It was infections, leaving him giddy.

Look well, never will you again see Severus Snape so perturbed… "The main issue in my mind is, as it was 11 years ago, Harry Potter. I will make this very clear to you: you will protect this boy. He is very important to me. He leveled a heavy glair on the man before him, making him fidget. Harry laughed at the joy his master -Tom, he reminded himself- was feeling from the power he was wielding.

I'm important?

Very much so. "You look confused Severus."

The mocking tone snapped him out of whatever emotion held him, and the man's face quickly became blank. "I only wonder how you are in control of Harry Potter, my lord." Several emotions flashed inside Harry's mind. Curiosity. Awe. Fear.

"You should be warned Severus, this boy is a natural talent at Legilimency. He's already brushing past your frontal defenses as if they were not there." Surprise broke through the façade as easily as a child breaks a rule.

"I had not realized-"

"It wasn't that you hadn't realized; it's that you couldn't have realized it unless you were told. This boy is a treasure, able to slip through minds without alerting the other." The flow of emotion ceased as Harry was forcefully thrown out of Severus's mind and a large wall kept him out. But not for long.

"You can't keep him out Severus. He was never anchored as a child and his magic are directly tied to his thoughts." He laughed again. "This openness called me in, but it is his power that keeps me here. Harry doesn't want me to leave. Do you?" Harry was roughly shoved into taking control. Fear and panic gripped his heart, twisting and crushing into a weight that was unbearable. He didn't want to be left after just gaining an important person. Harry's magic dangled like fibers around Tom Riddle's presence, tying him even closer to his own mind, much to the dark lord's delight.

"I…don… …to be alone." his voice lacked strength after years of being mute, he had no one to talk to really, and then his master using it so much, but his point was made. Harry was again pulled away and smothered in the comforting darkness that was Tom's aura. It was suffocating, but in a I'll-protect-you-from-everything way. Like a hug, but from a murderous, psychopathic, powerful dark lord.

"The muggles couldn't see him Severus. He taught himself everything he knows. It surprises me that he even survived, let alone be this intelligent, this powerful at only eleven."

The potions master was more than shocked by the sheer giddiness in the evil incarnate's voice and actions. "Why are you acting like this?" Severus felt his heart stop as soon as the words where out of his mouth. One with any sense of self-preservation never questioned the leader of the dark forces, the one power every wizard in the surrounding countries feared, and the same one who made Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Conference of Wizards worry about the future. No, no one but a Gryffindor questioned the dark lord. Much to Severus's surprise-Can I even be surprised anymore?- a wide grin split the boy's thin face. He couldn't tell if he should breathe a sigh of relief or begin to plan out his funeral service in his head.

"I am excited Severus." That was unexpected. " I spent the last decade living off of lesser creatures, boiling with rage but unable to do anything. Then this boy waltzes into the deepest sanctuary of my thoughts, alone and craving any attention at all, and takes me into himself with open arms. This boy changes everything. All plans must be refashioned." All of a sudden, Harry's (Tom's) vision doubled, then blurred. His head become heavy to the point that he couldn't hold it up anymore. His body tilted forward unsteadily, but Severus held him steady.

"No matter how excited you are my lord, the boy must be healed before you go gallivanting around the school, plotting revenge and chilling spines." Severus Snape never thought he would ever be so…well rude to the Dark Lord Voldemort, his master and leader for more years than he cared to count. He understood the risks, but couldn't help but forget who he was speaking to whenever he looked at the boy. The too pale skin and shallow breathing made him seem even more sickly than Severus guessed he was. The tangled mass of midnight hair that looked like it was chopped haphazardly at one point, then left to grow out didn't help the image of a helpless child at all. Severus just couldn't pull up the fear he felt from the dark lord and connect it with this uncared for rag doll of a boy before him. It was impossible.

Said boy -or dark lord- glared heavily at him and for just a brief second, Severus did feel fear, but it was soon past. "I will forgive your words this time, but only because you appear to already hold influence in Harry's mind." Bright green eyes met his and Severus berated himself for his stupidity as a barely detectable magical probe slipped past his mental defenses and began analyzing his emotions. It infuriated Snape that a mere child with relatively no education could evade the fortifications he created after years of stressful study work. He gently, knowing he would be punished if he simply threw the boy out, nudged his mind at the probe and Harry slowly left without complaint.

"Well come on now." Severus was about to let go of the boy's shoulder when he was stopped by a small cold hand on his own. The icicle fingers stole what little warmth he had.

"I don't…" the soft whisper dwindled down to nothing, like a voice lost in the wind.

"The boy doesn't want to go back to the Infirmary for many reasons. I agree. The place is too open. I would much rather you take care of us here, where you can protect us." Severus stifled a sigh threatening to escape him. That would get him hexed, whether the boy could perform that kind of magic or not. Whenever Lord Voldemort was pissed, the worst possible thing that could be done to you was done. It was his own version of the muggle concept of Murphy's Law. And everyone hates Murphy, regardless of magical ability.

"Very well. Please rest on the couch while I go speak to Madam Pomfrey. She will undoubtedly keep me for some time so stay awake long enough to swallow something for me." Snape motioned at a couch in the center of the room that had gone unnoticed by the boy. "Can you make it over there?" Severus could see the shaking of his legs from the strain of only standing and decided that walking was out of the question. Without waiting for a response from the possessed boy, he slid his arm behind his legs and carefully lifted him up. Severus took it slow, careful of the blood slowly dripping from the body, but still made across the room relatively quickly. He set him down before the fire, the only heat source in the room.

"Thanks…" Harry hissed out. His eyes were easing closed when Severus handed one of the vials he kept with his at all times, one can never be to careful in his profession. It was a suppressant of sorts; created by himself for his own personal use to slow bleeding and induce a restful and healing sleep. Coupled with the child's exhaustion, Severus knew the boy would be asleep in no time. When he was like this, pitiful and weak, he found himself entertaining the notion of telling the headmaster everything, even if he had sold the dark lord his soul. He could stop another war before it even happened. Albus would have glory and fame beyond what he already does, and his Prince name would gain the fame it deserved and held many generations ago.

The image of a frail Harry Potter screaming his throat raw at the sky, unclipped and jagged nails tearing into the flesh of his face as he gripped it hard filled Severus's head. As the scream echoed through his head, the boy's thoughts slipped into his own, surrounding his consciousness. His mind instantly began fighting back with all of his power, but nothing could stop the smoldering mass from consuming him.

"Please don't take him from me." In his mind's eye, an image of the boy was gripping the front of his robes tightly. His forehead felt like ice through the think cloth and his messy hair draped around his body in a black waterfall. "Please," he begged in a creepily hollow whisper.

"I won't." Severus knew he wouldn't, the boy's power frightened him. It was corrosive, attaching to his soul and slowly burning his power away. The feeling was akin to the slow painful death of a Brazen Bull in the ancient times. He was no coward, but his life meant a lot to him, enough not to rat out the boy to Dumbledore. In the end, Severus would choose his life over what the Wizarding World called "The Light" and all the fame he might gain. No, deep in his mind he knew Albus wouldn't share any fame from avoiding a war, it wasn't in his nature.

"Good. I'm glad." The boy's lowered head jerked up and Severus gasped in horror. The skin and muscle of his face was rotten away, leaving only strips of flesh on his forehead and a full head of hair. Eyes the same shade and luminescence as a certain taboo curse that was very popular in the previous decades. They appeared to be just as deadly as well and held an evil glint as he skull-face stared up at him. "I didn't want to kill you." The black presence left him shaking like a leaf caught in a gale and sweating like a turkey on the third Wednesday of November. He stumbled out the door, his breath coming in painful gasps. It would sometimes catch in his throat, forcing a ragged cough to claw its way out his mouth.

This continued throughout his run from the dungeons and not even the late afternoon sunlight seeping into the Entrance Hall could banish the darkness around him. It felt as if he were suffocating, drowning in the raw power of the Dark Lord's newest devoted follower. Severus collapsed to the floor, unable to stand any longer. He soaked in the waning sunlight of the summer day. Slowly, the darkness felt him, but a new pain grew in its place. Gripping his arm in trepidation, he slowly lifted his sleeve to see the Dark Mark slithering to life after lying dormant for a decade.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Severus really wished he knew.


The Potter boy had been missing three hours -three miserable hours of listening to Poppy complain of crazed children and idiotic staff- before Dumbledore finally thought he was abut to reach his limit. There was no real need to keep Poppy in the school. Sure, she had saved countless of his followers in the previous war and played an important part in keep the day-to-day functionality of the school in peak condition, but Healers were easily replaced. He could tell the staff that she had finally succumb to her age and retired. Or that she had an accident. Either way, Poppy Pomfrey was going to "disappear" if she didn't close her mouth right now.

Dumbledore smiled. He would give her a reason to use her tongue. Strap her down and cut open her back with a simple charm. Her ribs would give to his anger easily enough. He could pull them away from the spine, leaving her precious lungs free for his torture. Another simple charm would pull her organs back through and another would snap her ribs back into place. He would then sew her skin back the muggle way with a dull needle and old thread. Simple. Oh how he loved the Norse and their Bloody Eagle. The blood would cascade from her body not unlike that horrid fountain in the Ministry of Magic. God how he hated that thing. Equality was a joke. Why lower your status to be the same as every other creature that could string together a few words and call themselves important?

Where was I? Oh yes, the Bloody Eagle. Well, the old hag wouldn't resemble an eagle when he was done with her, but she would become beautiful. Poppy would be freed of her mortal ugliness and transcend the heavens to join the few that had caught his artistic interest. She will hate him during the process, they always hated him right in the middle of it, but the final result would be beautiful. An artistry of scarlet blood and fleshy parts that would make his old friend Jack (of the Ripper variety) weep tears of adoration. Yes, that was what he would do with the woman.

It was at this moment that a disheveled Severus Snape came into the Infirmary. Oh what Dumbledore wished he could do to that man. Potions Masters were rare to come by, so he couldn't actually harm a hair on his greasy head, but he could allow himself to be consumed with his imagination. While the man was arguing with the patron of the place, a smile crept onto the old man's face.

Yes, those types with the precision, memory, and sense of time to create potions without books at hand were a rare kind in deed. He would need a rare punishment then. Hmm. This boggled the man. What to do. Normal acts of art were too plain for this rare bird. No, he deserved something truly wonderful. Perhaps strappado. Seeing the man hang by his dislocated arms while weighted bundles were strapped to his feet would spark his artistic talent. Watching his arms slowly being ripped from their sockets would be a lovely sight indeed.

The two staff members were arguing about something now. Poppy was yelling, while Severus was calm, unusual for him when faced with the Healer's wrath. No, that method of art wouldn't work on Severus. The man was so tight lipped when he wanted to be. He would rather die than scream for Dumbledore and he wanted him broken, not dead. So, that lead him to physiological ways. The one thing Severus Snape enjoyed the most was his sleep. That man turned positively evil if his sleep pattern was interrupted, which lead to harsher punishments for students caught after hours. That was why Dumbledore gave him late night duty the most out of every staff member. He enjoyed listening the students complain of the thing the Master had them do during detentions. Hearing about three hours of harsh scolding or manual labor weren't the same as creating his own art, but it was funny to hear. Sleep was the key to Severus.

I will use the Heretic's Fork. He decided. A leather strap was tied to the victims…I mean model's...throat. Dumbledore would be sure to tie it tight enough to leave Severus gasping for air, like a fish cast onto the shore and left to rot. Then the prongs would be placed very close to his throat and chest. When he finally collapses from exhaustion, the sharp prongs would dig their way through his flesh. Sleep would become Severus's nightmare and number one enemy. Oh how he couldn't wait to see that look of pure anguish on the man's face when he realized that the one thing in the world he cherished most would turn on him and lead to his slow and agonizing death. He would scream for him then. Dumbledore was sure of it.

Severus, after finishing his "discussion" with the irate Madam Pomfrey, looked towards his employer. A sick smile twisted his face and his eyes twinkled merrily, as if they were imitating stars. Feeling uncomfortable with the look, he left the Ward immediately. Severus shivered, feeling as if he had just escaped death for the second time today. Merlin, what he would give for just a small chance to sleep. But no, he had restorative potions to brew. His new ward would need than very soon and for a very long time, he suspected. Just a little nap would be heaven…


A/N: First off, really sorry for the wait. I know its been too long. I just didn't have inspiration. I hope to update all my stories this month and since summer is getting closer, I will be updating more. Hope I didn't freak too many people out. I just thought it fit. That's my reason Dumbledore is always smiling! Looking back tough, I really think torture scenes are my forte. I tried not to go into too much detail, but I like writing scenes such as this. I hope everything makes sense, if your still confused about something after this chap, message me and ill try to fix it in the next chap if it won't be fixed at a later time.