Sorry this has been so long in coming out; I'm currently working on some *BIG* projects that I'm trying to get through but don't worry, this WILL be completed!!!
Harry stood still, frozen in shock, feeling as if his heart had just been ripped out, pounded with mallets and stabbed with knives, then returned to his body to spread the pain through each and every nerve. His world had been reduced to a globe of blinding, searing pain - he couldn't escape it; nothing existed except for the heart-wrenching agony pulsing through every fiber of his being. He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes and forced them back angrily; he would not let himself cry. Purely and simply because it wasn't true.
Of course it wasn't; it couldn't be.
Draco had to love him...
But if he had been mistaken all along, if that - zhirak - had been telling the truth after all and everything that had been between himself and Draco was nothing but a lie...?
He didn't think he could bear it.
Harry drew a deep, shuddering breath, struggling to find some sense of peace, of balance, within himself. It was considerably difficult, seeing as he had never felt so lost, so alone...he felt like he was drowning in a raging, stormy sea without any rock to cling to, any safe port to swim toward...all he was aware of was blackness, heartache, pain, all swirling around in the vortex of anguish that his soul had become, threatening to rise up and engulf him. He could feel something deep within him starting to give way against the tidal wave of raw emotion building up within him, something that would spill out and leave him sobbing and sobbing and sobbing...
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clenching into tight fists as he wearily focused all his will to one end, one purpose, one aim, forcing everything else into the background.
He would find the truth.
No matter how long it took and how far he had to go, he would find it.
And then he slowly exhaled, sealing the promise.
The problem being that he was in a world completely alien to his own and he didn't have the faintest notion of where to begin.
Harry drew his wand out from his robes and set it on a flat, smooth stone, sending it into a spin with a twist of his fingers. He watched it whirling around with a sort of amused detachment; it wasn't his decision anymore; he would simply go in whichever direction he was told to. Like a puppet. So simple, so thoughtless. It stopped its revolutions pointing to what Harry assumed passed for north here - no doubt this world had an entirely different set of compass points - and set off.
He walked. Walked until the strange, diluted light of the place had leeched slowly out of the great chasm of emptiness stretching above him to be replaced by a thick, enveloping darkness broken only by eerie green fires glowing somewhere off in the distance; walked until his feet were sore and blistered, sending tiny thrills of pain up his legs with every step he took; walked until his eyes had grown so heavy that they threatened to drop shut and rob him of consciousness. But he couldn't rest now; he had to go a little further...he was vaguely aware that the terrain was sloping steadily downward and was becoming increasingly less rough; he supposed he was leaving the mountains. The realization made him feel mildly pleased. Maybe he would be able to find something in the lands beyond the rocky barrier...he stumbled slightly and fell to his knees, unable to fight the weariness rising up in him any longer. Hardly even aware of what he was doing, Harry curled himself up into a fetal position and pillowed his head on his arms, falling immediately into a dreamless sleep.
So he didn't notice when the two figures appeared beside him.
They were virtually indistinguishable from the surrounding blackness, nothing but denser patches of darkness shaped vaguely like humans, cloaked and hooded to hide their features. They seemed to have materialized out of the air itself, summoned to Harry by some call heard only by them for a purpose only they could understand. One stepped forward to Harry's side, kneeling over him as if peering into his soul and reading what it had to say, analyzing all of the hopes and fears and dreams that had been written there. Then it stood back up, turning to his companion as if to speak. It's voice was like a hiss of wind on the last leaves of autumn, low and sibilant.
This one has far to go and much to learn.
The other seemed to stir slightly, perhaps making a gesture of agreement, perhaps of impatience. But we can't help him.
No, of course not. But I want to give him something. The figure reached out and put its hand over Harry's heart. A few seconds of absolute stillness passed, then a faint purple light spread out from where it was touching the skin, reaching out to envelop every inch of his body before sinking into the it, leaving nothing of its presence behind. The figure withdrew its touch, drawing back to its companion.
Are you sure that was wise? He's only human...
But he could be so much more. Will be more, once he learns to master it.
The other one seemed to have nothing to say to this and then they were gone, leaving Harry alone on the cold ground.
* * *
He was crouched on the stone floor with his hands over his head, blood from his fingertips staining the whitish hair red. Every inch of skin was bruised and lacerated, gushing out rivulets both of a deep vibrant crimson and old dried-out brown; he wished that t the pain would go away. Or that he at least had his wand. But they'd taken that away from him and left him with only his broken, tormented soul, forcing him into a state where he was weak and helpless and powerless...they could kill him if they wanted to and he wouldn't even have a chance to defend himself. And no one would bother to come and save him now; the one person that might've cared was far away, beyond his reach...
The door creaked open and he pushed himself into the corner but it was a futile gesture, harsh hands were grabbing him and tearing him along, forcing him into a cell even deeper underground. He fell onto his hands and knees, shaking, wondering dully what would happen now. He could hear the rustle of robes as someone nearby got to their feet, could feel footsteps coming closer. He flinched away but someone seized his wrist and yanked him roughly to his feet.
He reeled slightly from the impact of the spell, his mind fogged over and unable to process anything. Something was pushing him, shoving his unresisting body into some kind of hole that sucked him down into its unfathomable depths, devouring him whole. His last conscious thought before he was claimed by the blackness rising up within him was that he wished he knew who he was.
I'm not sure when the next part will be out, probably not for a while. But look for the prolouge to Master and Servant very soon, that's coming along quiet nicely and will mark the beginning of the MaS rewrite...