Chapter-1

The sleep beguiled boy gladly sank into the delirious softness. The silk sheet felt heavenly, why would anyone ever want to leave this fluffy comfort? He would reign 'pon this tiny slice of paradise, yes. Toes curling in obvious pleasure, the boy gave a satisfied hum as he breathed in deeply the fragrance of lavender and freesia. The feathery embrace was exquisitely soothing on his body, that which remembered the ache and trembled still from the past agony.

Agony?

Pale hands clenched and the young wizard sat up clammily on the bed, the haze of sleep vanishing in the wake of memories. Such pain, he remembered, his mind shying away from them. The soothing comfort was a distant thing now; his body protested the sudden movements but his mind hissed at the state of vulnerability.

He was naked. Mechanically, his eyes moved toward the side table and hands searched under the pillow only to come up empty.

The boy looked blankly at his empty hand; understanding the familiar gesture but not the result. Sleep still clung stubbornly to his lashes, but it wasn't sleep that had him so dazed.

What… is going on?

It was not until bare feet touched spell-warmed stone floors that, there was the sound of 'pop'. The wizard was not given the time to properly be surprised before this tiny little thing nodded its head determinedly.

"Young Master Adrien be awake! Mippy be drawing a bath for the young master."

Without waiting for a reply, the creature had vanished, leaving behind a swaying body.

Brows furrowed slightly before smoothening entirely and the lone occupant of the room murmured to himself," N-not Adrien or…"

No. He wasn't…

He didn't protest when the elf guided him into a very ornate bathroom, big enough to comfortably suit a dozen people. Much to his consternation, however, while his mind was clearing somewhat his body seemingly remained rebellious and many a time he stumbled or fell to the floor only to be helped by a fussing house elf.

His determination was all that spurred him to hopefully relax his weary muscles in a hot bath after the countless times he mistook his coordination and collided with another pointy object that had been waiting just at the right position to welcome him.

He didn't remember being so horrible uncoordinated and if he had had higher consciousness, it would have been acutely offending to his pride.

The bathroom was beautiful, if a bit ridiculous too. It was lavish, indulgent and not suited to be called a mere bathroom. He felt the trickle of memory of a bathroom as pleasant and generous with a password and a mermaid, but exhaustion shooed the thought away and blankly he let the creature guide him onto the bath.

Hot water, scalding at the first touch, coaxed his body to submission. Thoughts floated by in dissonance but they wouldn't stay and he didn't bother on insisting either. Despite the rest that he supposedly had had, he felt the exhaustion deep in his bones. In the end, he let his head fall back onto the soft pillow behind him and didn't care enough to deny the elf as it scrubbed his body down so carefully.

He was a blank canvas when he was patted dry and only when he was led back to the bed, the exhale of relief marked his emotion.

He didn't stay awake to react to the elf's promise of hot soup.

-xx-

The second time the wizard woke, his eyes stayed focused. His body strained still, (perhaps it would take a long time to recover entirely), but ruthlessly did he discard the need to be soothed and cared for days long until he had a modicum of sanity restored.

He didn't belong here. He would find out what happened and who...

The boy tumbled to the floor promptly. His legs had folded under him, with all the grace of a new-born colt.

"Master Adrien!"

The elf didn't give much time to gather his collapsing thoughts before gently hurrying him to be dressed. And he complied with embarrassment coloring his face. It wouldn't do to face his foes with no dignity whatsoever. His body was behaving independently to his mind, the least he could do was be dressed in something other than a bath robe.

He didn't belong here, in this strange house where a stranger elf looked after him. The floor was warm and the air still fresh, a sign of a well-inhabited place.

He didn't recognize it.

He gritted his teeth to seize the control of his thoughts before they threatened to careen into turmoil and absent-mindedly he watched as the elf clothed him in front of elaborate mirrors covering the dresser.

Absentmindedly he kept his eyes ahead. The polished glass showed a boy looking back at him with tired eyes, draped in a small bath robe that seemed to dwarf a smaller body. It blinked back at him, opened his mouth in clear curiosity, its realm confined within the four ornate strips.

Who was this person?

It took a couple of moments before the boy grasped at all and the other face borrowed all his confusion, all the bursts of questions ending only in panic, with the sincerity one' reflection carried.

He didn't recognize it.

Because it was not his, this face in the mirror.

The boy was younger than him, on the brink of pubescence; rather sickly looking with tinted pale skin. With blond hair leaning towards darker shade and fresh crystal blue eyes, the boy could not be any more different than him. Perhaps the only similarity would lie in how the boy's skin was sticking to his bones, with shadows grazing his eyes.

No one would look at this face and exclaim Harry Potter!

And he was… wasn't he?

"I.. I am not…"

The boy in front of him mouthed back his stuttering and promptly did he shoved back the mirror

It didn't budge to his infantile strength. It was offended at his action though, "Mind your manners, boy!"

Harry felt the rage of a cornered animal.

Therefore with convincing perspicuity as well, he lunged at the creature tottering around his legs and clutched its bony wrists... It was a trifle of a gesture, his arms had the coherence of seaweeds; it was humiliating through the drowsy nods of terror.

So terrified but still the emotions wouldn't calibrate the right way. He shook his head.

"What... who am I... no... where... No, that is not the either... what have you done to me?!"

The elf looked at him wide, anxious eyes but hardly frightened (It was insulting: this clear insinuation that he was hardly a threat to even this tiny being).

"Is Master Adrien not liking this dress?" It held up a swath of fabric in its other fist.

House-elves were powerful, as Harry Potter had once intimately known. Their magic was different than Wizarding magic. But then the power of every magical was singular on its right. Wizards often underestimated what they didn't understand, what remained outside their realm of acceptance and even the powerful and great often remained blind to the truth.

However, he also knew that house-elves, however powerful, were limited in their mental aptitudes. (Reason house-elves can never lead a rebellion on their own, not like the goblins or the centaurs.) One of the many reasons why they were underestimated was because of their tunneled vision. Elves didn't see beyond, didn't understand beyond the orders of their masters. They were not capable of deception and perhaps all the more frightening because their treachery would be least expected.

Harry knew this, understood that perhaps this elf might be innocent in whatever devious scheme its masters had wrought.

Unfortunately, no one was here to hold back his wrath.

Fortunately for the elf, Harry Potter lacked the strength to carry his furious desire to task.

Shaking hands betrayed their strength and his hand fell to the floor. Wringing discoloured hands, it gazed up at the panting boy.

"Master Adrien being not well. Mippy be making soup for the young master."

"Don't call me that."

It looked at him blankly, "What be Mippy calling Young Master Adrien?"

He was... "Harry. Harry Potter." If the kidnappers thought he would cower in his vulnerable state, meekly accept whatever identity that fancied them…

The elf agreed easily, "Mippy be getting soup for young Master Adrien Harry Potter."

She popped away and the boy groaned in exasperation.

He wanted to leave already, walk beyond these mint-green walls and find the ones responsible.

He flopped down onto the bed instead, his breather short and uneven.

Harry had no pain lingering in his body. But he would have preferred the wretched thing than this Merlin-forsaken weakness that had taken over his body. Every thought must be pushed through a reluctant filter to be processed. Every step took careful consideration lest he collided with an unfortunately placed cabinet.

Didn't polyjuice potion count for the coordination as well? Why was he so clumsy in this borrowed appearance? The mental lethargy he was suffering through did not appreciate new bruises to his ego as well.

Not that he would accept surrender even after brought to his knees.

And, where on earth did they hide his wand?

He could summon it? Harry looked down at his trembling fingers. Well then. Perhaps a bit later-

(There were faults in his logic, but his mind couldn't even panic properly and Harry wanted out.)

This was not the first time the boy savior had been put in a ridiculous situation.

The elf popped back and placed a steaming soup in the dresser. It kept a wary eye on him and a careful distance to add to Harry's guilt. Not that the emotion stayed.

He would have knelt down, but it felt more effortless to let himself slide down the bed and sit cross-legged. The floor was comfortably warm anyway.

"I am sorry for my behavior." Pale eyes went wider and he felt the remnant of guilt before it too faded away with the rest of the muddled emotions. "I am a little tired, but that was no excuse. Tell me, where am I?"

The tiny thing squeaked, not at all suspicious at the questioning, "The Silvan Manor, young master."

Silvan Manor. He mouthed the words, strange even in his knowledge, "Where is your master?"

Dutifully it said, "You being Mippy's Master, Young Master."

(There was something really wrong with that sentence.)

Elves were limited in their understanding and Harry had to be precise if he wanted his answers in less annoying ways.

"Right. What about other masters or mistresses here?

Harry braced himself for a suspicious look or for the elf to call for someone, but it only wrung its hands indecisively.

"Master and Mistress Silvan be telling Mippy to take care of the Young master Adrien. They be telling Mippy to take young master to home."

Did the taking care of meant that he was to be imprisoned in this room for however long?

"Are they here?"

"Master and Mistress be not coming back."

He would be undisturbed for the moment. He wanted... would have demanded to be taken to the perpetrators... but his body was already nudging at its limit for the time being.

Determinedly avoiding any reflective surface Harry sank into a chair, his strength failing him entirely.

Mippy nudged the soup bowl closer.

-xx-

His exhaustion did not end. Much to his frustration, he was able to go couple of hours before he must rest like a babe, Mippy demanded. He was brought simple diet, each one of them carefully vetoed by Mippy, not safe for Master! The one time he had stomped his feet for a steak, afterwards Mippy had spent the time wailing and fretting and Harry had spent the time alternating between toilet and bedroom.

It had been a trying experience all around. Harry had surrendered to Mippy's greater wisdom.

Their hosts never appeared.

Mippy absolutely refused to side-apparate him to them and much as Harry wanted to rage, he had learned his lesson.

The weakness was receding in a crawling rate; as in now he was able to be stay on his feet for an hour before collapsing. Days passed, with his determination to simply gain enough strength to walk properly.

And the polyjuice potion refused to end. His hands were still small, child-like. His voice remained high in pitch. (Harry had stalked a twitching Mippy through out the preparation of a two days' meal to make sure there were no 'additive' in his meals.)

"That's it. I can't do this anymore." Harry sat up on his bed. "Mippy!"

"Master Adr... Harry?"

"Pack some broth, and a blanket and uh... a pepper up potion."

"Master?" The elf had learned to be cautious to be its strange master's strange ideas.

"We are going to see your previous masters. I have had enough."

She started twisting her ears, "Master is weak! You is not walking ..."

"Oh no." Harry interrupted cheerfully, "you are going to have us apparate."

She backed away from him with the same fearful expression when he had brought up this issue the last and only time, "Oh NO, Master. Nonono. Too dangerous."

"I know." Harry was already taking off his comforter, "We will be having a small picnic and a nap at the place of landing." He looked back at the uncomprehending elf eyes, and spoke a bit more seriously, "Should I- you know- if it becomes too much for me… Put me on the blanket and wait for me to wake up. But we are taking care of it today."

He was. He couldn't lie back like an invalid and accept his fate to come to him. This idea was perhaps foolhardy and absolutely idiotic and Merlin, Hermione would wring his neck at this reckless behavior…, but, this time he was all alone and he could no longer churn through the what-ifs and hows.

"Mippy be not going to the bad place."

What now? What fresh ridiculous thing was this now? He wanted to scream already, but-

He sat down gently beside Mippy, "What bad place, Mippy? What did they do?"

But she shook her head and wrung her hands. She flinched and the big eyes filled up in premonition to a wailing session.

He sighed, "Is it a dangerous place?"

She nodded emphatically.

Were they at a death eater's base? He wanted to scoff already- the scrounge of the war had been scrapped away already. But he had been in isolation for so long before this thing, he couldn't be sure no vermin had slipped away from the captures and that none were still lurking.

It didn't deter his resolve anyway. "Well, how about you take me to the closest place that would make you feel safe and we will see from there?"

Mippy was young still (easily deceived by her master) and easily agreed.

And even though he had been left alone, had not been restricted from stepping out of the manor, he could not be settled. He needed to leave, needed to know.

It didn't matter that the elf shook its big ears talking about how sick the young master was, that he needed to rest and the place was filled with evil.

He needed to see the place with coherent eyes, the place that his body still flinched away from pain, the place that spoke of a dark ritual.

It was entirely rash and foolish, this decision, considering the fact that Harry was still wandless and wanting to confront two adult wizards.

But a small silver of panic that was slowly corroding his sense couldn't allow him even a bit of consideration.

Besides, it was not as if he was entirely defenseless. And they would know the consequences of inviting the fury of the boy Savior no matter that in recent years the public had known him to be utterly docile.

-xx-

Frozen, Harry looked out at the field: the place of his birth, in a manner.

His memories had started with the comfort of the Silvan Manor, but with every step he took into this place that pulsed with the residues of the Dark ritual, he remembered.

More precisely, His body remembered. It flinched away from the pain that had wrecked his body here, that had threatened to corral his mind to madness and only sheer stubbornness had him holding onto the identity of Harry Potter.

His mind was however was focused on something far more tangible than the phantom aches. The familiar feel of Magic soothed his over-wrought nerves and fractals of the truth he begun to understand before the wide, blue eyes lit upon the desecrated ground.

He understood why the elf absolutely refused stepping foot onto this place and why she had not left his presence even for a bit in favor of her other Masters.

The ritual ground was painstakingly drawn, runes swirling with life, but thankfully they were restrained within its rights. Merlin forbid if they were left to their chaotic mentions without having a containment glyph drawn first. The magic had burned into the ground and he wrinkled his nose at the burning smell that permeated through the air, unnaturally heavy and unaffected by the gentle breeze. Suspicious smelling candles were down to their wicks alone and at the midst where he had been laid all those night before, only the residues of smoldering metals lingered.

The ritual lines were precise in their shape and measurement, Harry hummed as he surveyed with a critical eye. The smell itself was more of an indicator of the success of the trial if nothing else. Skilled practitioners and bountiful magic. The ritual was deemed a success.

Debatable, though, the corpses on the ground would say.

They were the only disturbed pieces in an otherwise ideal ritual, sad specimen that only slightly reminded that once upon a time they had been human.

In death, the rich clothes were of no significance and from the long blonde hair and the shorter brunette with all the sparkling accessories, Harry could tentatively guess at their genders. Their corpses were entirely corroded; blood and life were sucked away cruelly, leaving behind two preserved memorials of perhaps once healthy examples of magical beings.

He bit back the thrill in his blood, not wanting the excitement to drain away his strength.

His clinical mind was whirring with all that he knew that could result from a single mistake while performing this ritual. Magic was hardly absolute after all and Ritual Magic was not a dedicated Art. No Classroom offered steadfast procedures for conducting rituals and rites.

The ways of conducting a single rite may be many, depending upon the wizard and what it must ask. Sometimes the ritual wouldn't be contented with what was given, sometimes it must tempt with distractions and even greater favors waylaying the desired path.

There were so many factors to consider.

Here was an answer for the frustrated wizard, but woefully under-developed.

He did not even know if these were the people who had somehow captured him and for what? To hide away the boy-who-lived? He did not have the answers and now perhaps the ones who had them had passed away so conveniently, due to a stupid involvement in a ritual. A ritual he had been involved in.

How troublesome.

Harry frowned and looked over at the ground again, it was curious but he could not think of any ritual as vicious as to completely drain one of blood, magic, and life. The magic that the ground resonated with still reeked heavily, reminding him of something.

He should be more cognizant than this, but his mind still felt so lethargic. His body was not being cooperative either. Shaky legs could hold him no longer, never mind the corpses to the right of him, he gave into the temptation to sit. A small, absolutely foreign pale hand curled dubiously onto the soil fertile with the remains of a Dark Ritual.

And it came to him as suddenly.

Impossible.

It was disquieting that he had not recognized it sooner, but he flicked away the lingering anxiety for later as he pursued this new-found knowledge.

Necromantic ritual. The two people had been conducting a necromantic ritual. He had been the unwilling participant of it. How...why... what was its purpose?

Almost absentmindedly, Harry went through the motion of a cleansing ritual, for such a dark taint could not be allowed to linger. After all, this was how the tale of cursed belladonna had begun, in the aftermath of a poorly conducted dark ritual; a seemingly innocuous flower in the middle of barren land, beautiful and deadly in the fact that it attracted lethifolds in droves. Of course, who would think of a pretty bloom in a farmland to be the cause that the some muggle villages would be swallowed down cruelly? The Wizarding world did not get involved until one of their own had fallen victim. And it had not been easy to cleanse the canton had lethifolds that had claimed that piece of Earth.

He went through the steps that were so familiar that his magic did not need his wand anymore for such a small thing. The magical memory overrode the alarms his body was giving out and Harry did not quite realize the blankness where he had been once completely aware of his magic.

His hand swirled with a wand gesture, pulling at his inner magic. His brows furrowed when his magic stayed silent. He pulled a bit more impatiently. He was still confused when his body started to seize and blue eyes dulled as he lost consciousness.

A/N- Hi guys! This is my new story- one I have been obsessing over recently. Ah.. if you like leave behind reviews and stuff.. You know t. This is unbeta'ed. So, there might be mistakes despite my best effort.

See you next chapter!