Author: Severlover
Title: CASTLE HOPE
Summery: What ever happened to Harry Potter the Man Who Ran Away. This story is something, which has been floating around my head for several weeks just waiting to be written. It will contain slash in later chapter and seems to be starting out dark but we'll see as I write this is my first fic so I hope you bare with me while I fumble around it the dark. That said please read and review I'm hungry for your views and ideas on where to take this story though I have a plot in mind it is up for negotiation thankyou.
Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor do other characters and places from the books belong to me, they are owned by JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Bros.
Chapter one: The Story Of The Boy Who Ran Away
Hard green eyes looked across the Sahara desert, taking in the baron landscape, it heaved with a heartbeat, which lulled your soul, before it consumed you with a seasoning of sand.
How long had it been since he'd seen grass? He couldn't remember. How long since he'd seen the green fertile lands of Europe? He'd given up walking the soils of the world until Voldemorts demise. It was a price he found himself wishing he had never paid. Turning round he walked the short distance through the high archway into his room; here in this baron place he had made a home for himself, a place where he could be alone in his mind.
For three years Harry Potter the boy how lived had traveled the world after he'd left Hogwarts. Traveling with Aurors and High ranking Officials he'd brought hope with his very presents to thousands of Witches and Wizards. He'd hated the attention, the way they fawned over him as though he was incapable of the most menial of tasks. He'd taken it with his stride as he watched more and more people signing up for the war, he knew they needed more people to fight, Voldemort was gaining ground by the hour, England was the first to fall then France and Italy. But then it was his turn to fight, he'd been told the stories, read the headlines even, but nothing truly prepared him for what he was to face, the crushed mangled bodies, the pure mindless violence of it all, their was nothing heroic or just about it all. It was pure mindless violence committed for the pleasure of one sick and twisted individual.
The guilt threatened to swallow him whole to consume his very sanity, how many of these people would still be alive if they hadn't meet him it he hadn't helped with the recruitment drive the so called Ministry of Magic had concocted. How many would have joined if they had known the truth. He'd seen the bodies of those who had died, few of them where much older than he was, many of them had grown up to worship him. He was their hero. Their idol, they'd have followed him into hell without a thought and that was exactly what he'd done, lead the innocent to Lucifer's fires.
And so he'd run, he'd swum the underground of the Muggle World, hidden himself under cosmetics, hair-dye and contacts. But still he could hear the mad laughter of Voldemort in his dreams, see the tortured body of his victims and the pain suffered by others seeped through his body leaving him bleeding, trembling and weak. He'd become a whore to pay for food and a safe place to sleep at night. He feared Diagon Alley, feared being recognised, he feared the Wizarding World and what they'd do to their lost Child, their Savior to be.