Haunted, a harry potter fanfic

A/N: This story, as I said, is about how (I think) Harry feels about having Voldemort always watching him and knowing what he's doing, and how he's basically taken over his life. It's told in first person by Harry himself. So read on, and tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Harry Potter, and I don't own the song 'Haunted' by Evanescence. I've finally learned to accept that fact, and you will have to as well.

Haunted

Written by SiriusBlack4Ever

Inspired by the song 'Haunted' by Evanescence

Long lost words whisper slowly to me

Still can't find what keeps me here

When all this time

I've been so hard up inside

You know, everyone thinks that I have it easy. They all think that my life is just a bundle of laughs, and that's it's all fun and merry. They think that I have everything I've ever wanted, and that I enjoy all this attention I get. Hell, some people even think that I seek all this attention, and that I crave it, and I'm willing to go to any means to get it.

But let me tell you one thing about all of the people with these thoughts: they're minds are screwed. Either that, or they've had the Imperius Curse put on them, making them believe that all of this is true. Personally, I think it's the first one, but that's just me.

Why do I think this, you ask? Well, let me tell you: because none of this stuff is true. Why else would people believe something as stupid as any of this? None of them, not one, are true; in fact, they're all far from the truth. I don't have it easy, and my life is far from a bundle of laughs. I don't think that my life's been fun and merry since about my first year at Hogwarts, and I, by no means, have everything I ever wanted. I also do not like all of the attention I get. In fact, I despise it, and never, and I mean never, have I sought the attention that I get.

My life is nothing short of hell. I don't mean to sound so pessimistic, but in all honesty, it's completely true. My parents died when I was a year old, I spent the first eleven years of my life living in a cupboard, my relatives emotionally, mentally, and even sometimes physically abused me, and my godfather just now died. Oh, and then there's the small fact that the most powerful dark wizard in the entire history of the world wants to kill me, and that I either have to end up killing him, or have him kill me. Brilliant life, am I right?

So, like I said, my life pretty much sucks, and it doesn't look like it'll be improving much. Nope, not looking too bright in the future. This stupid Prophecy just had to be made about Voldemort and myself, condemning me to a horrible life. Now, Voldemort never did find out the whole Prophecy. And because it was smashed, he probably never will, meaning that I have a slight advantage here. But, as you've probably guessed because of my knowledge of it, I have heard the whole thing. And it's something that still haunts me to this very day.

I can still hear the long, lost words of it, whispering slowly to me. They seem to play themselves over and over in my head, especially one line in particular; '...And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...' I know, what a comforting thought to have playing in your mind 24/7. In fact, I still don't know why I'm here anymore. I mean, I'm pretty sure that this whole thing means that I can't die while Voldemort is alive unless he kills me, but you never know. I still might be able to get killed by someone else. Or kill myself, in fact. I'm still not sure why I'm staying here. I think I should have killed myself long ago, but I never did, and I still don't think I have the guts to do it now.

And yet, all this time, I've felt so lost inside. I've felt so alone, so helpless, so desperate. You'd think that I would have cracked a long time ago; I mean, I do have something of a short-temper, so this would only seem logical. But I haven't cracked yet. I wonder if it's perhaps another side effect of the Prophecy? Hmm...if so, it may be another one that I wouldn't mind having fail. I might actually like being insane. At least all of the feelings that I have right now would actually be considered normal then.

But no, it doesn't work that way. And, once again, it's all Voldemort's fault. If he wouldn't have ever come up with the bogus idea of ruling the wizarding world in that thick skull of his, I might have just lived a normal life. I certainly wouldn't have had as much pain and sorrow in my life, that's for sure. And I'm also quite certain that I wouldn't have spent half my life sleeping in a cupboard.

But we all know that it's impossible for any of that to ever change. Voldemort's too stupid to realize that he's messing up other people's lives, and even if he did realize it, he wouldn't give a hippogriff's behind about it, because, as Dumbledore has told me on many occasions, he cannot understand love. Which, unless I'm much mistaken, means that he doesn't care about anyone but himself. Wow, you know, I just realized how much he reminds me of someone I know by the name of Draco Malfoy. Interesting...

Watching me

Wanting me

I can feel you pull me down

Fearing you

Loving you

I won't let you pull me down

It seems like, no matter where I go, what I'm doing, who I'm with – whatever – that Voldemort is always watching me. Or, at least his Death Eater's, or his little Death Eater wannabes are, meaning that I never have a moment of peace. He's constantly watching me, studying me, learning everything about me, just so that he knows what to take from me next to bring me closer to him, or what he can do or use to make me click.

I know that he wants me. I know what you're thinking, and it's not that. At least, I hope to Merlin that it's not, because that would be just wrong. But he does want me in another way. He wants me in his hands, in his clutches, so that he can kill me, rid the world of me. Although he doesn't realize exactly why he needs to kill me, considering that he doesn't know everything about the Prophecy, he does know that he has to kill me because I have – or will have, whatever – the power to quote, 'vanquish' him.

And the funny thing is, I have mixed feelings on the matter. If I look on one side of it, I feel like I fear him. He killed my parents, my godfather, a close friend to me, and so many more people. But yet, I have escaped from him on five different occasions. Even though I know some were by pure luck, I did escape from him, and I believe that that is saying something.

And still yet, on another hand, I feel like I love him. Again, not in the way you're thinking of. In a different way – a totally, utterly, completely different way. I feel like I love him, because, the only chance that I'll ever have to escape from this life would be for him to kill me. I feel like I have to love him for this, because he is my one escape. I feel comfort knowing that if it ever gets to be too much, I can just leave the safety of my home or Hogwarts, have him find me, and he'll kill me, let me finally escape all of this. This is the one thing that I actually like about having him here. He is my one easy way out.

Merlin, listen to me now. Again, I must sound insane. Oh, if only I were. But I'm not; at least, not to my knowledge anyway. I may be talking about suicide and how I love the man who wants more than anything to kill me, but I don't believe that I'm insane. I think that I'm just depressed. Yeah, that sounds right. After all the things I've been through, who wouldn't be?

But still, I am talking about suicide here... I guess that Voldemort is really taking over my whole life. Here I am, just sitting by myself in my bedroom, doing nothing, and I can feel him pulling me down into this black pit of nothingness inside of me. I'm nowhere near him, and yet I can feel him doing this. Bit awkward, really.

Hunting you

I can smell you all night

Your heart pounding

In my head

You know, sometimes I feel like I'm hunting Voldemort. I mean, I have spent quite a few hours of my life looking for him, haven't I? It's like, back in June, when I was at Hogwarts, and I had that vision of Sirius in the Department of Mysteries where Voldemort was torturing him, I knew I had to go find Voldemort so that I could get Sirius back. I spent all that time searching for him, looking for him, so that I could once again piss him off and escape from him, all the while getting Sirius back. All night, I felt like I could smell him; I knew where he was, what he was doing.

Now, in literal terms, I couldn't actually smell him. Which, of course, is probably a good thing – I don't think that being Mr. Evil-Villain-of-the-World gives you much time to bathe. But I could sense him the whole time. I knew – or I thought I knew, anyway – that he was in the Department of Mysteries, that he had Sirius, and that he was torturing him. And I also knew – or again, thought I knew – when exactly it was that he was torturing Sirius and how much he was hurting him. I could feel it the whole time. And let me tell you: these are not the most pleasant feelings in the world. Especially if half of them are being felt in your scar.

However, just like always, it was basically a trap to get me to the Department of Mysteries. Wait, scratch that. It wasn't basically a trap; it was a trap. A trap that I was too stupid to notice was a trap. So, basically, that means that I risked both mine and my friends' lives going there for nothing. Oh, but wait, there were a few good things that happened. No, wait, I'm sorry. I made a mistake. Nothing good happened there, aside from the Prophecy being smashed and having the Death Eaters caught.

That is, unless you count being chased by a group of Death Eaters, having your godfather die, having one of your friends get a twisted ankle, another one of your friends have a tank full of brains strangling him, and having yet another one of your friends get hit in the chest by a very powerful curse. Oh, and of course, we can't forget getting possessed by Voldemort, can we?

Ah, yes – being possessed by Voldemort. That is something I'm never going to forget. You wouldn't believe the pain you feel when that happens. I mean, if you think the Cruciatus Curse is bad, then you don't want Voldemort possessing you. That – that's about ten times worse than the Cruciatus Curse. In fact, I'd call it even worse than that, even. Not a very fun thing to have happen to you, no indeed.

I can't even describe exactly what that was like. It was like, he was literally inside me. He was controlling me, living in me. I could almost feel his heart pounding in my head. It was unbearable, indescribable. I've never had a worse feeling in my life. I felt like my scar was going to explode, like it was just going to blow up right there. I seriously felt like I was going to vomit – which, had Voldemort not been suing my mouth to talk, I probably would have. That's one other thing I can thank him for, then. Not having to throw-up a lung. But I don't feel like getting into details on that now...

Watching me

Wanting me

I can feel you pull me down

Saving me

Raping me

Watching me

Argh! There it is again! My lousy scar is burning again! Well, this time Voldemort appears to be happy. Something good obviously just happened. First time that's happened since that night in the Department of Mysteries a few weeks ago. Curious, I wonder what it is? Perhaps, perhaps, he is once again watching me, and he knows everything that I just thought of. Maybe he knows now that I want to be killed, that I want him to kill me, and he's happy about that. Yes, that would make sense. I think I can feel his want right now. He seems to really want me now, now that he knows that I want him to kill me, to take me away, and that I, frankly, do not care what happens to the whole world right now.

Again, listen to me. Practically fantasizing about having Voldemort kill me. Just because I feel a little twitch in my scar, and I know he's happy, I start to think that maybe he'll kill me, maybe he'll take me from this whole mess in my life. Still, still while I sit here, miles away from him, I can feel him pull me down into that blackened pit of nothingness.

But the thing is, the only dream that I have anymore is of him killing me. My other dreams all died with Sirius on that fateful day in June, and now the only one that I have left is that of Voldemort killing me. Or, rather, saving me, I suppose. I guess that since this is something that I actually want, he'd more so be saving me than killing me.

Have I really become this desperate? Have I really lost all hope for life? I want to say no, but the thing is, I don't think I can. I mean, I think about what I just thought of, about having Voldemort save me by killing me, and I realize ultimately that yes, I have lost all hope. He has mentally raped me of all of my hopes, all of my dreams, all of my reasons to fight, to go on. I truly do have nothing – no one – left. There is nothing here for me anymore, except for the fate which was bestowed upon me before I was even born, the fate to either kill or be killed. I think that I ultimately choose the latter now. I believe in only that, and it scares me that I think so, and yet I know it's true. I do want to die.

Well, there's no use denying it anymore. I can't stand living here in this thing that I call life, so why live it any longer? I think that I'm going to leave now. I'm just going to walk out of the house, out of the neighborhood, out of these wards that have been set up to protect me.

I have no protection now, no shield, nothing. Nothing except my wand, which still lies in my pocket. But will I use it? No. I want this over with. I want it to end. And so it shall.

Well, there you are; it sure took you long enough. You know, I truly despise that grin you wear on your face all the time. It's so much like a smirk, yet it seems more triumphant, and much more ugly on your skinny white face. I wonder if you ever had a girlfriend. Somehow, I highly doubt that. Enough with the grinning thing already! Don't look so pleased with yourself: I came to you! If I wouldn't have come out here, you never would have even gotten to me right now. So just wipe that sorry-arsed grin off your face and kill me already.

Yet still, still you watch me, still you study me, devouring this wonderful moment when you'll finally be able to kill me after all these years. Finally, finally, you'll be able to get rid of me, after I defied you five times. Finally, it will be your turn to shine, finally it will be your turn to triumph. Finally, it will be your time to rule.

You raise your wand, point it directly at my chest, and scream out the spell into the cool night air, plundering it all with those toxic two words that bring so much fear, so much guilt, so much remorse, and so much lose. You shout them, with the triumph evident in your voice, as the bright green light flails from your wand, rushing through the air like a giant emerald phoenix. Then, right before it hits me, I look at you, and I see you, watching me. Then I'm hit, and I fall, dead even before I hit the ground, my final glimpse of the world being that of you, watching me. And I know that, even though you know I'm dead, you are still watching me. You can't believe that it happened, and so there you stand, for Merlin knows how long, watching me. Watching me. Watching me...

Well, I think that this is probably my favorite story that I've written so far, just because I think Harry seems really psychotic in this story, and I like that version of him. Go figure. As always, thanks for reading this, and I hoped that you enjoyed it!

Hugs,

SiriusBlack4Ever