Harry disembarked from the plane, wearing a thick fur coat, yet still shivering. Following General White past a pair of saluting armed guards, they left the runway and entered into a large concrete building, where more armed guards roamed around. Harry's best guess was that they were in Northern Russia, though where exactly he could not be certain.
Stepping through a set of metal doors, Harry suppressed the urge to flinch as he was roughly stripped by a pair of guards under the watchful gaze of General White. They did not hesitate to grab his balls roughly, causing him to squirm.
"Stop moving," the guard barked, causing him to nod and try to hold still as they checked the rest of his body.
"General, what is happening?" Harry asked, to which the man merely smiled.
"Remember what I said about survival? This is your test. Succeed, and you will join the revolution. Fail...and I wish you a pleasant afterlife. Welcome to Kolyma." The man turned, walking away, and Harry knew trying to belay that was futile. Instead, he allowed himself to be dragged by the guards past the checkpoint and tossed into the snow, where his naked body immediately developed goosebumps.
"What about my clothes?" Harry yelled to the guards, who merely snickered before turning their backs on him, slamming the metal door back in place. Shakily, Harry got up, assaulted by the bitter winter winds, and looked around the courtyard. Several gangs of prisoners were evident, loitering around, though after a quick glance most looked away, save for one bearded elderly wearing rags who walked up, kindly offering him a hand.
"Greetings young one, come with me. We have shelter."
"Thank you," Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement, following the man as several others nearby leered at him. He ignored the cold piercing through his skin, nor the slight blue tinge to his toes as he followed the eldery man into one of the concrete buildings, filled with the musk of sweat and body odor. Despite the repugnance, it was warmer, and Harry's body sagged happily at this. "Who are you?"
"I am priest Sergei. I once led a church in Volgograd. Now...I suppose I'm but another prisoner," the man chuckled. "I must wonder though, what does one so young do to deserve to be sent here?"
"I did...nothing. Well, General White found me and took me in, and then...he just left me here," Harry shrugged, joining the man around a small stack of stones that served as a table, with a half full bowl of soup in the middle.
"Another stray, Sergei?" one of the men asked annoyedly. "You know, we can't keep feeding everyone, we barely have enough as it is."
"Nonsense, Alexander, all are welcome in god's house. We need not fear poverty, for in the kingdom of god all shall be bountiful," Sergei preached happily. Harry watched the effect it had on the gathered prisoners, seemingly welling up with hope and warmth at this, their features softening. Sergei smiled kindly, taking the bowl and handing it to Harry, who with two shaky hands, raised it to his lips and poured the cold liquid down his throat.
He could feel the sawdust grind against his tongue and throat, but hungry as he was, he forced himself to stop after three small sips, placing back the bowl in the centre.
"Child, you must drink more, gather your strength," the priest advised. Harry merely shook his head.
"I take only what I need from the house of god," he replied, causing the man, and the prisoners around, to nod approvingly. "Thank you for your hospitality."
"What does one so young do to deserve this?" one of the prisoners, an old man with a short, stubby white beard, asked. Harry merely shrugged.
"I don't know. A man merely took me from his home, taught me Russian, then left me here...he told me to survive," Harry explained. The prisoners looked at him with sympathetic disbelief, muttering amongst themselves. "I-"
"Sergei, they're coming!" a panicked voice came from outside, and most of the prisoners paled. Before Harry could ask what was happening, several of the prisoners rushed outside, while Sergei grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him under one of the steel bed frames.
"Child, whatever happens, you must hide here and be silent, understand? Whatever happens?" Confused, Harry merely nodded, causing the man to offer a sad smile before drawing himself to full height and walking out to be greeted by three men. "Welcome my child-"
"Meat!" one of them cried, and they descended upon the priest, who did not fight and did not run, merely standing still as they tackled him to the ground and began tearing the priest's rags apart before their filthy hands began grasping at his flesh, with sheer desperation tearing off chunks and hungrily shovelling them into their mouths.
More prisoners, men and women alike, emerged through the doorway, diving onto the still alive priest, who chanted, "Forgive them Jesus Christ my lord and savior, for they have sinned!"
But moments later, the priest could take no more, his voice having slowly crescendoed from calm to increasingly pained, until he finally screamed as dozens of men and women tore at him, tearing chunks of his flesh off or simply biting into it.
Several of the convicts began fighting over what appeared to be the priest's liver, with the larger prisoner letting out a war cry before clawing at his opponent's eyes. The sounds of the priest's struggles finally died down, and only the scraping of skin on skin, the slop of blood being drank ravenously, or the sound of flesh being devoured hungrily sounded in the room.
Harry fought down his fear and disgust, forcing himself to remain silent, still watching the pile of convicts continuing to hawk away at the corpse, the pile so large only the legs of the prisoners could be seen.
Several of the prisoners began fighting over the bones, with one breaking off a piece of the ribcage and using it as a dagger to stab another prisoner in the eye, who let out a scream as he tried in vain to claw the bone of his destroyed eye. Once again, the mob turned on the prisoner, and still with blood on his lips and face, his pleas fell onto deaf ears.
After several more corpses being consumed and looted, the mob finally dispersed, their hunger sated for their moment, leaving the room hauntingly silent once again. Only after waiting for several more hours did Harry find the courage to crawl out, eyeing the spot where Sergei had been buried in a mound of hungry humans. Not even a trace of blood or a fragment of bone remained to signal that there once had been a man there.
"Train! Train!" he heard a chant outside, and hesitantly, made his way out of the now deserted room, to see that indeed eight flatbeds being pulled by a steam locomotive entered the prison. He watched confusedly as the prisoners mobbed towards it, clamouring aboard while those just outside yanked and tugged at those on the edge of the flatbeds, pulling them off so they themselves could climb aboard, only for they themselves to be pulled down by the frenzied mob.
After a few minutes, a bell rang, and there were panicked shouts, with the struggle growing fiercer, as the train began moving. Several inmates who tried to climb onto the front of the train only to be shoved back down by the prisoners already clinging onto the locomotive were crushed, the sound of broken bones as the train continued unwavering. As the train gathered steam and left the gates of the prison, the guards up on the wall began opening fire at those that tried to chase after the train. Several dozen fell off as the locomotive gathered steam, and many in the crowd continued to desperately try to claw themselves a spot while those on the flatbeds resisted these attempts despite the increased firing rate of the guards.
Only when the train had left the gates did the struggle cease, though a new one began as the prisoners remaining began fighting over the corpses of the prisoners crushed ravenously while the guards on the towers watched unsympathetically. Shivering in the cold, Harry wandered over to a less fought over corpse, pulling off the rags the prisoner wore before quickly making away with his gains, slipping on the dirty and smelling garment. It brokered little warmth, yet was better than remaining completely naked.
-Break-
"Ding!"
Harry rushed towards the flatcars, knowing that the only way to get fed was by working in the mines. He managed to snag himself a spot near the edge of the last flatbed car, though the person to his side was yanked off with a scream, and he let out a cry, trying to fend off several grappling hands to no avail.
"No!," he exclaimed as he was yanked off the flatbed and shoved roughly to the ground as others scrambled for his former spot. Cursing, Harry forced himself up, trying in vain to yank another prisoner off and find himself a spot, but to no avail.
He let out a cry of despair as the bell sounded again and the locomotive began trailing away from his grasp. The crowd surged with the train, and many last attempts to force their way onto a cart were made. Harry himself lunged at an elderly man, pulling him off the cart despite the man's attempts to swat his grasp away. Yet Harry failed to take advantage, as when he jumped something bit into his leg, causing him to stumble.
Letting a curse out, he kicked his foot into the face of the old man, who had drew blood and looked at him with a maniacal gleam. Shivering, Harry rolled out of the way as the man lunged for him, causing the man to tumble to the snow. Despite his bitten leg, Harry forced himself up quickly, limping away as a frenzied mob descended on the now screaming man.
When Harry looked back, the mob had dispersed, and there weren't even bones left.
-Break-
At the sound of the bell, Harry was a blur, immediately rushing himself onto one of the flatbeds. He was thankfully in the middle, and as the crowd quickly piled on, he felt himself shunted left and right, though never more than two steps. He did not relax, merely waiting nervously as he heard screams, yells and the sounds of fights echo around him.
It was a harrowing few minutes later that the bell sounded again and the locomotive began chugging along. The entire mob shifted backwards slightly at the force, brokering yet more desperate struggles. Harry grew nervous as he could see the outlines of hands scarce three people away from him, though by some miracle, as though a prayer was answered in the midst of the sound of bodies being crushed, he remained on the flatbed, securely packed between several other convicts as they hurtled through the Siberian winter.
He waited, and waited, and waited, until the train finally stopped and he felt the prisoners around him shuffle off the flatbed. Following them, they trooped through the blizzard, entering a dingy looking mine entrance.
"Start Digging," one of the guards ordered, shooting one of the prisoners in the head. Hastily, everyone dropped to the ground, and began clawing at the rock and soil. Harry did so, finding a glint of gold. Suddenly, he was shoved out of the way by another prisoner, who maniacally dug up the small nugget before clutching it protectively.
Annoyed, Harry stood up and reached out, punching the other prisoner in the head before snatching the nugget of gold. "That's mine, bastard."
"Fight! Fight! Fight!" the prisoners around them chanted. Harry raised himself to a fighting stance, but the other prisoner merely cowered, hands raised to his face in horror.
"You've doomed us! You've doomed us, you fool!" he cried, falling to his knees. Before Harry could ask what was happening, four guards appeared and grabbed the two by their arms.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Harry exclaimed angrily, before he was struck in the face by the butt of a rifle.
"Quiet! No trouble in mines. You now exiled," the guard sneered, tossing them on the back of a jeep and beginning to drive. Harry glared contemptuously at the other prisoner while cursing inwardly, though the other man seemed content to wail, a horrendous sound that made Harry want to clutch his ears.
Suddenly, the truck stopped, causing them to jerk forward, The two guards driving got out of the jeep and raised their rifles, pointing it at the two. "Walk!"
The other prisoner complied slowly, taking step after step into the blizzard, yet Harry turned instead, charging at the guard and ducking a shot. He tried to hurtle the rifle out of the guard's grasp, but was struck from the side by the bayonet of the second guard in his rib. Cursing, he tumbled to the ground, looking up to see one of the guards raise his rife at Harry's head before the other guard forced the first to lower it.
"Let the boy live, he'll suffer far worse out here," the man chuckled, causing the first guard to agree, spitting on Harry's face before the two guards returned to their jeep and drove off. Letting out a groan, Harry fought his body's desire to fall unconscious, instead wandering blindly into the blizzard, praying that he would somehow manage to find shelter.
He walked for hours, yet the scene remained the same, white in all four directions. He could not trace his steps back even if he wanted to, given that the trail of blood and his footsteps were quickly buried under a new blanket of snow once he took a few steps.
Dimly, he realised he was being followed, and turned weakly to see the outline of several large beasts forming a semi-circle around him. Harry cursed inwardly, knowing that any attempt to outrun his predators was doomed to fail. Instead, he stood his ground, allowing the beasts to approach.
The largest one approached, licking the blood trail on the ice before staring forward hungrily. Harry gulped, realising he was facing a pack of arctic wolves. Shakily, he raised his fists, yelling out, "Well! Come on then!"
As though sensing the challenge, the alpha let out a warning growl to the others, who ducked their heads and backed away slightly, before leaping forward, jaw wide open in preparation for a bite. Harry ignored his fear, instead thrusting his fist forward and punching the wolf straight in the nose, causing it to stagger back, howling in pain.
It looked up, angry yellow eyes narrowing as it growled another warning. Harry merely resumed his fighting stance, breathing in heavily as he felt adrenaline pumping through his veins.
The wolf circled him for several minutes, as though looking for a weakness, before growing impatient and leaping forward, once again jaw open for a bite. Harry repeated his tactic, managing to punch the canine in the nose again, though this time he leapt forward with a war cry and grabbed the wolf's jaw before yanking it, causing a snap to echo in the tundra as the wolf's lower jaw was ripped off. Not stopping, Harry pushed his fingers into the wolf's eyes, gouging them even as the wolf threw itself around in a vain attempt to throw him off, causing them to tumble around the snow.
After a minute of struggle, the wolf finally let out a low whimper before stilling, causing Harry to stand up triumphant, pus and blood on his fingers, as he looked to the other wolves challengingly. "Well? Want to go?"
One of the wolves let out a low whine before scampering off, soon joined by the others, allowing Harry to finally slump down and relax. Roughly, he grabbed the wolf's belly, knowing it was a weak spot, and tore, trying to tear it open but failing.
Letting out a noise of frustration, he tried again, hearing a small tear, giving him hope as he continued to do so. Blood began to pour out, which Harry hungrily drank up, feeling the thick, warm liquid travel down his throat. Despite his body's attempt to vomit the viscous fluid out, he forced himself to choke it down, knowing that even such a luxury would be hard to come by in a few days. Tearing out a bit of meat, he hungrily gouged on hit, something which his stomach gurgled happily about. Harry found himself pulling piece after piece, not realising how hungry he had been, until most of the wolf had been consumed.
With a satisfied burp, Harry wiggled himself inside the wolf's corpse, feeling the warmth cocoon him from the harsh and bitter cold outside. While he could feel it quickly fading, such comfort, along with the blood loss, was enough to get him to fall asleep.
-Break-
"General, the search is hopeless, we'll never-" a gunshot caused a grousy Harry to startle awake.
"I need the boy alive, find him or I'll have you all become prisoners here!"
"Yes general," another man saluted. A flicker of hope flashed through Harry. Perhaps he was hallucinating, but with the last of his strength, he sent out a burst of legilimency.
"Over there! You! With me now!" he heard General White exclaim, but knew no more as with his final energy expended, he fell unconscious once again.
-Break-
"What did you learn, Harry?" General White prompted. Harry merely sat in his chair obediently, the outlines of his ribs visible even with the shirt he wore. Most of the scars had been healed, and the foul odor he had developed was washed away thoroughly.
"To survive," he answered monotonously, causing the general to hum as he bit into a piece of steak.
"Duck fat, it makes all the difference to the flavour of the beef," General White explained with a condescending smile. Despite his own hunger, he fought it down, merely staring back impassively. Nodding at this response, the general continued, "What else?"
"That only those most willing and able to survive do."
"Good, Harry, good," the General praised, "but more than that, you have learnt that humans are fickle, cruel creatures that need to be controlled. You befriended a priest, didn't you. Sergei, right?"
Harry knew it wasn't a question, but nodded all the same, causing the general to smile. "And what happened to Sergei?"
"He died."
"Indeed, consumed by the very people he preached forgiveness for. Do you see why it is necessary, Harry, for the party to exert control?"
"Yes, general."
"And you understand why I sent you there?"
"To enlighten me."
"Good. Then it seems we are in agreement. But Harry died in the confines of Kolyma. No, that won't do. You need a new name, do you know why?"
"Names have power."
"Good, you are well read indeed," the General appraised. "Names are powerful things indeed. They are what give us identity, meaning, definition. Henceforth, you are to be known as Raven. So tell me, Raven, what is your purpose now?"
"To obey."
"And if that is not enough?"
"To die."
"And what is your place in this world?"
"I have none."
The General smiled genially, and the guard stepped forward, placing a tray containing a single bowl of soup, nodding at Raven. "Eat, you must be hungry. Your training begins soon, and you will need to gather strength."
Author note:
Wow that was a dark chapter. I won't pretend that was easy to write, because it most definitely wasn't. I tried to balance the need to be authentic with the minimisation of explicit details. I drew heavy inspiration from stories of concentration camps in Nazi Germany and Gulags in Russia. Of particular inspiration was Dulag 205 and of course Kolyma. If you want to know more about the history, I encourage to search it up, as I believe such things need to be remembered to prevent such tragedies from ever happening again. While certain elements are exaggerated, notably with cannibalism being, in general, regarded as rare cases, I felt it necessary in context of the story. Harry is strong in will, and wouldn't break easily. He survived physical and mental abuse from the Dursleys after trauma from James' madness and Lily's coma, so something brutal was necessary to mark the shift in his personality more believable. As always, reviews are what keep me going, even if you're just saying hi, it means a lot to me. A point I want to address: this is going to be a first draft story, meaning that I plan on doing a remaster when, not if, when I finish the story. Sometimes, it's nice to polish a product, but for me, I just need to force myself to get something out there, or it'll never happen. Make sure to follow, as I admittedly post erratically, writing in sprints and all. There are days when I will type thousands of words, and days that I can't put a sentence to page. Until next time.