Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world. No, I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters – I'm simply expanding on what she provides.
Summary: Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore and, when he writes in it, he receives an unexpected response. His correspondent learns of Harry's less-than-suitable living conditions and an unlikely bond is formed. Abused!Harry, DrugAddict!Harry.
Warnings: Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.
December 22nd - 2:43pm
Enjoy your freedom, sir.
Severus quickly did the maths in his head; the boy had not been seen since before lunchtime, which meant that he had a good seven hours head start. There was no more time to waste.
The potions master rushed immediately to Gryffindor Tower. He strode easily through the portrait and into the dorms, quickly locating Potter's belongings. The damn invisibility cloak and the diary were the only missing items, aside from his wand, of course. A transfiguration textbook lay benignly on his bed, as if he had just set it down and gone to the bathroom.
If the child was seeking out the Dark Lord, which was the only reasonable explanation for his disappearance, given the evidence available, Severus knew he needed to remove the Death Eaters immediately. He summoned the dark mark potion and headed to the Headmaster's office without delay.
"Potter has gone", the Slytherin all but spat as soon as his dark gaze rested upon the form of the elder wizard.
"Gone?" The blue eyes instantly lost their twinkle. Severus didn't celebrate the victory.
"Unless you have knowledge of his whereabouts after midday today, Headmaster?"
Albus shook his head gravely and turned to look out his window, which overlooked the lake, stroking his beard slowly. Severus knew the old man well enough to recognise that he was shocked, despite the lack of outward reaction. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the leader of the light to speak.
"We must find him, Severus." There was a slightly panicked edge to Dumbledore's voice, which would usually be somewhat satisfying, but today it held no such reward.
"Obviously." He sneered back. He hadn't wanted to reveal this option to the Headmaster, partially because the old man wouldn't approve of the use of dark magic, and partially because he didn't fancy being questioned on how he came across the recipe, but he didn't really see any other choice. Severus was unable to summon and detain the Death Eaters himself. They would need aurors and, hopefully, dementors to kiss the Dark Lord's supporters on arrival. It was widely acknowledged now that imprisoning them was too risky when the frequency of breakouts seemed to be increasing.
"I have a suggestion, Albus." He sighed.
The twinkle returned immediately. Severus almost changed his mind and walked out. But pained green eyes flittered through his mind and he set his jaw. His glittering black gaze met twinkling light blue, and he laid his cards on the table.
The Slytherin Head of House paced furiously in his quarters. He felt like he was not doing enough. But, he knew the best thing he could do right now was wait until the Headmaster called him with the plan ready to go. He paused to murmur a quiet tempus, and scowled before taking up his furious pace once more. It was almost 10pm. What was taking so long?
Finally the fire flared green and Severus immediately threw his cloak over his shoulders and stepped through the heatless flames. He didn't know where they were going, but Dumbledore has said he was setting things up and that they would go to a safe location to summon the Death Eaters. He could do nothing more than blindly follow, at this point. He didn't trust Dumbledore to have his or Harry's best interests at heart. But he did trust the wizard to have the war's best interests at heart. And that was all he needed right now.
He arrived in a neglected looking manor. It was obviously uninhabited, judging by the cobwebs and dust that covered almost every surface. He silently spelled the dust and ash from his cloak and nodded curtly to those in the room. Nymphadora Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody and Bill Weasley stood in one corner, making a strange, motley crew. Dumbledore was speaking with Shacklebolt near the fireplace. He smiled genially at Severus as he entered and then motioned for everyone to follow as he moved to a different room.
They stepped through into a larger room, which was likely the formal sitting room many years ago. The only entrance was the doorway that they had entered through, and the room was void of furniture. Thick dust covered every inch of the floorboards, heavy cobwebs adorned the corners of the room, and the wallpaper was yellowed and peeling. Some faint light filtered through a filthy high window on the northern wall, leaving the rest of the room in a gloomy, dusty haze. Severus raised one eyebrow, wondering where they were and who owned this house. But instead of speaking, he waited for the Headmaster.
Albus directed things quickly now, stepping easily into his role of the leader of the light.
"Bill, you will wait in the other room, Remus should be joining you shortly. You will only be required to assist if anyone comes through the doorway into that room. Once Remus arrives, if you could please kindly close the floo?"
The redhead nodded and exited the room with no comment. He had grown up a lot since Severus had last seen the man. He still imagined the lanky teenager from Hogwarts. However, the eldest Weasley had filled out, his shoulders broad and well muscled. His hair was a similar length to that of the potions master, though obviously not the same colour, and he also stood at a similar height.
"Nymphadora, you will take the potion that Severus has kindly prepared. It will then be your job to summon the Death Eaters, one at a time, please. Severus can brief you on how that will work. You are to assist with detaining them only if required. That will be largely what Kingsley, Alastor and I will do. There is a dementor on standby, which we will utilise once we have two detained at a time."
Everyone nodded solemnly and Tonks turned her attention to Severus, her face serious. It was odd to see her without her usually vibrant hair and eyes. Today, the metamorphmagus had light brunette locks, closely cropped in a pixie-cut, and deep brown eyes. It was easy to see her more as a competent auror, now, rather than the clumsy young witch she usually portrayed.
Severus removed the blood-red potion from his robes and handed her the small vial. She looked at it doubtfully then raised her eyes to his in silent question.
"This potion is entirely untested. I believe it will remove the power of the dark mark from the Dark Lord, and return that power to the drinker of the potion. I do not know if it will be painful for you. I also do not know if the Dark Lord will notice immediately, or only once he tries to summon his followers."
Tonks nodded but said nothing. Severus rolled up his sleeve to bare the ugly tattoo, before flicking his wand to conjure two armchairs. He sat in one, close enough to allow access to his arm from the other. From a pocket in his robe, he withdrew a sheet of parchment and handed it to the young witch.
"The first list includes the names of whom we know to be Inner Circle. Once they are detained, the rest of the list includes the names of other known followers. I suggest we continue one-by-one for as many as we can."
"How do I summon a specific person? Do I just think of their name?"
Severus blinked. "I know as much as you do about that."
Tonks shrugged nonchalantly. "Okay, maybe some trial and error. Anything else I should know?"
The Slytherin hesitated, then nodded slowly, without lowering his gaze.
"Just one other thing. There is no known antidote to this potion."
Tonks' eye widened and she bit her lip.
"You mean, I will have this power forever?"
Severus nodded. "At least until someone else takes it, or I work out an antidote."
Without further ado, the young witch swiftly removed the stopper and choked down the contents of a vial. She gagged and coughed, but thankfully kept it down. Then she smirked and shook her head at the man.
"I do not even want to know what was in that, do I?"
Severus smirked.
"You certainly do not."
Harry tried to control his breathing, tried to relax, despite the strong fear coursing through his body. He pushed as many thoughts as he could from his mind and focused only on his breath. He couldn't deal with any distractions right now, too much was at stake.
Getting to Draco's house had be surprisingly easy. His father had met him at the station and they had returned home via portkey. Harry had grabbed Draco's shoulder just in time before they were blinked away. He had fallen to the hard floor in a heap on arrival, but luckily was to one side and didn't get in the way as the two blondes stepped gracefully away. Draco, to his credit, didn't even glance in Harry's direction.
Now it was late in the evening and he knew he needed to make his presence known soon. He had explored the manor a little, and eavesdropped on a few conversations, hoping for some clue as to where Voldemort was based. Hoping for some clue to send to the Order. But there was nothing. Time was ticking. He needed to make a move before he talked himself out of it.
The gentle numbness provided by the scar potion was rapidly fading. He could feel the stabbing pain returning to his head. If he waited for too long, he would be in too much pain to stand before he got to the Dark Lord.
Decision made, Harry removed his cloak and poured two drops of shrinking solution onto the fabric from a sachet in his pocket. He couldn't use his wand without the Ministry knowing something was up, so he'd come prepared with some shrinking and enlarging solutions that he had purchased via owl. This would give him a little more time before anyone could find him. And by then, there would be no turning back.
It had been surprisingly pain-free to get to Voldemort. Aside from his stupid fucking head throbbing constantly, and then the expected increase in pain once they got closer, he hadn't even been crucio'd yet.
He had casually knocked on the front door to Malfoy Manor, as if it were perfectly normal for Harry Potter to be there on the first day of Christmas break. He stashed his wand in the holster at his thigh, and leaned casually against the side of the house until the door swung open. Lucius had, as expected, immediately bound him with a smirk and drawled something about foolish Gryffindors and death wishes. It hadn't been long, then, until the blonde apparated him directly into the Dark Lord's lair.
Surprisingly, Harry still had his wand, though with ropes binding his wrists together behind his back, he wasn't really in a position to use it. He figured they would disarm him immediately if he were to use it, anyway.
Harry didn't recognise the location he'd be apparated to. It was obviously some sort of clearing near the ocean – he could hear the waves crashing against a cliff face, and could smell salt in the air. He quickly looked around to take in his surroundings. About 200 metres away to the south and west was thick forest, he could see the long shadows cast by the moon. It wasn't a full moon, but it was probably only a few days off. The sky was cloudless, but bitterly cold. There was no snow on the ground, but it was certainly cold enough for snow.
The wind whipped across the clearing from the north, which was likely where the cliff face was located. Harry couldn't see far enough in that direction, but it seemed probable. Directly in front of them, was a pile of huge granite. Boulders larger than Harry's shoulders jutted out of the ground, straining towards the moonlit sky and casting bleak shadows across the clearing. Some long trunks of fallen trees were off to his right, amongst more huge boulders, as if they had been pushed to the side hurriedly to create the clearing.
It was on a flat boulder that Voldemort stood, looking down into the clearing, as if waiting for him. And maybe he had been waiting – who knew if Lucius had sent him some sort of missive first to expect Harry's arrival?
"Lucius, you will be greatly rewarded for this gift."
Voldemort's hissing voice made Harry's skin crawl and another spike of pain seared through his scar. He thought he might vomit. Instead, he clenched his jaw and glared angrily at the evil motherfucker. Nagini was coiled closely at her master's side, tasting the air lazily with her forked tongue.
"Thank you, my Lord."
Aside from Voldemort and Lucius, there were surprisingly few Death Eaters in attendance. Wormtail, of course, was present, the slimy little fucker never left his master's side. That was probably he only safe place for him to be, given how many people would gladly kill him if given the chance. Though 'safe' was a relative term, really.
There were two masked Death Eaters kneeling to the Dark Lord's left. Harry had no idea who they were at this point, but he was willing to assume they were fairly dangerous.
"Harry Potter. Finally. I had been wondering when you might come to see me."
Voldemort's voice drew him from his thoughts and the teenager returned his furious glare to the person who deserved it the most. He smirked, in an almost Snape-like manner, his glare lightening a touch as he did so, and his voice taking on a casual, relaxed tone that he certainly did not feel.
"Tom, it's always a pleasure. But this is no way to greet a guest, is it?"
He gestured to his bound arms by shrugging his shoulders and raising one eyebrow. Harry didn't see Voldemort move his wand, but the ropes fell away, then, allowing him free movement once more. He shrugged the feeling back into his arms and then glanced around pointedly.
"Not much of a welcoming party, I'm a bit disappointed."
Harry felt angry magic crackle around him as his attitude began to enrage the other wizard. Within moments he was on the ground writhing in agony as a well-placed cruciatus curse tore through his nerves. He whimpered when the spell was finally lifted and remained curled up on the cold ground. His glasses had fallen off while he was thrashing and he didn't believe he could move his arm enough to find them, for now. Okay, so maybe purposefully riling the darkest wizard of the age was not his brightest idea.
"You are right, Potter, I should invite some spectators." The evil fucker reached out and motioned to Pettigrew, who was trembling near his side. The rat offered his arm to Voldemort, and flinched as the wizard used his Dark Mark to summon more followers.
Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Nobody arrived. The only sound was Harry's panting breath as he tried to regain himself after the cruciatus curse.
"Crucio!"
It was Pettigrew's turn to suffer now. He thrashed against the ground, screaming in agony until the Dark Lord finally let up.
"Goyle, give me your arm."
Harry barely noticed as one of the masked Death Eaters walked to their master and knelt. He was still in a haze of pain, stuck between the after effects of being crucio'd, and the agony in his head.
He pushed himself up into sitting position and watched with narrowed eyes as Voldemort again tried to summon his followers. And again, nobody arrived. Goyle fell, then, under the cruciatus cursed. Furious magic coursed across the clearing again. Harry's confusion was replaced with relief when it struck him - the dark mark potion must have been activated. Snape. He was helping. Holy fucking shit, it must have actually worked. At least enough to break Voldemort's connection to them, anyway.
The teenager couldn't help himself. He began to chuckle, then laugh. His laughter quickly turned into a scream as his enemy's crucio fell onto him again, and again. He wanted to escape to blessed unconsciousness but the blackness refused to swallow him.
When the curse was ended, it took him several minutes to even notice. His limbs shook and twitched, his breath came in gasps, he could see the condensation from his breath in the air around him when he opened his eyes. His scar burst into blinding pain and he could feel the blood running down his face.
"What do you know?" The cold voice hissed dangerously close to his ear. He was in too much pain to even flinch, though he could feel panic building up inside him at the nearness of the figure. He sobbed in a harsh breath and tried to make his limbs respond enough to move into a siting position, but he couldn't get there.
Suddenly his body was lifted from the ground by a spell and he felt himself dangling a foot above the cold ground before he was thrown backwards against a tree stump. Once again, blackness crowded the edges of his vision as his body burst into pain once more. But again, his agonising consciousness remained.
"Legilimens."
Fuck. Harry scrambled his mind together to strengthen his mental barriers. The pain had distracted him and he could feel Voldemort's raw power shredding his mind. He searched his mind for the weak spot and immediately reinforced it, allowing a few select memories and emotions to slip through to distract the evil snake.
He forced all his thoughts about Snape to the back of his mind, hiding them as best he could, and then grabbed the memory of finding the parseltongue book. He could tell Voldemort was getter impatient. His walls were being ripped to shreds in the face of the dark wizard's fury. Fuck, the asshole was strong now. He threw a few more benign memories forward and tossed the one he was looking for into the mix.
"Your pathetic defences will not stop me! Crucio!"
Fucking mother of fuck, the pain. Harry's world exploded again and he grabbed desperately at his mental shields, trying to reinforce them as his mind shrank away in agony. Finally the asshole retreated after viewing his memory of the parseltongue book. The cruciatus lifted at the same time.
Natural occlumens or not, it was near impossible to hold mental fortitude while under that curse. A newfound level of respect rose within him for Snape, who must have done exactly that, countless times. He immediately pushed that thought away, too. He needed to focus. He needed to get back to his plan, lest he be tortured to death.
Voledmort stared at the teenager on the ground for a long moment, then. The boy was bleeding from his scar, as well as from various cuts and scrapes across his limbs. He was curled up in a ball, his gasping breath the only noise to cut through the silent night air.
Angry magic whipped around them, warming the freezing air a little as it danced across their skin. Voldemort's wand was still pointed at the boy on the ground, his red eyes glinting with rage. Harry knew he was going to suffer a lot more pain tonight. His voice was a cold hiss when he finally spoke.
"What have you done, Potter?"