ANATHEMA
By Yih

Note: Many have asked if this will be LV/HP, perhaps, I don't know at this time.

Chapter One
An Errand of Deathly Consequence

10 years later…

I tremble before my Master. I can see the outline of his ribcage and his shoulder blades as his manservant, Pettigrew, puts his black robes onto him. Master has thrown thinner than when I first knew him. The body he is currently occupying is dying. He needs another one to suck into a husk. This one won't last much longer.

"Harry…" he hisses. "Come closer."

I cross the room and kneel down next to his boots, lowering myself until my forehead touched the ground before raising my head. "Master."

His fingers dig into my scalp, parting my hair and I force myself not to react. "You know what I want."

I nod.

He traces his fingers down my cheek and to my throat where he tilts my chin up until I must look at him. The features on this face are more haggard than a few days ago. Truly, this body isn't lasting long. Shorter than I thought.

"You chose poorly," he says, his tongue flicking out and licking me from my nose to my forehead. "Very poorly."

I swallowed hard and lowered my eyes.

"My terror," he murmurs, "must wreak more havoc." He sounds happy and I almost shiver. "Won't you?"

"Yesss…"

"Such a good boy," he says, "such a good boy."

His hand wraps around my throat and holds it in a tight grip. I can breathe but only barely. My eyes open and I see his. It doesn't matter the body; it doesn't matter the eye color, toward the end—they always revert to the serpent-like form and the blood red eyes.

"Do you still want to die?"

I shake my head.

"Of course not," he whispers and releases me. He bends his head and presses his thin, dried lips against my forehead. "I wouldn't be there."

I say nothing and it's good enough for him.

My manservant is waiting for me when I return. His face is blank, but his shoulders are rigid and there is a certain disdain in his eyes. He hates what I am, though I am unsure as to why. After all, from what I knew about Severus Snape—he'd been in the service of the Great Lord far longer than I have been.

"My lord," he says in a cold voice, "the Great Lord has requested that your horse be saddled and a bag packed."

I incline my head and stand in front of the mirror, dropping my robes off and looking at my scrawny body. I am still shorter than the average boy. I wonder if it's because Master leeches my life force from me when his bodies begin to fail, or if I am simply destined to be short. But my ribs, I know, are because of him. It's ugly. I'm ugly.

Not that Snape is any prettier. I look at him, at his equally skeletal form. Like me, he too gets drained when Master gets weak. But Master prefers mine for whatever perverse reason. I turn away from the mirror and snap, "My black robes."

"Yes, my lord."

Such impoliteness in his tone, if Master heard, Snape would be punished. I know it wouldn't be for my sake. It's the principle of the matter. I know how he thinks, I know what he wants, and one day I will give it to him. I shudder to think of what will happen when I do—but who am I to stop him?

I am but his most trusted servant.

"What shall I pack?" Snape inquires.

I turned and narrowed my eyes at him. He stood there waiting for the command like a good servant, but his eyes were fierce and venomous. Not for the first time, did I wonder why Master had gifted me with such a recalcitrant manservant. There were others he could have chosen, but no—he had to choose one who hated me.

"The usual."

Snape nods and turns to the closet, opening it up loudly enough to disturb me. I press my lips together and ignore him. If he thinks he can snap my control, he has another thing coming. If Master couldn't, what makes him think he can? And why would he even want to? Doesn't he know what I can do to him?

"Everything will be ready in a half hour, my lord."

"Good," I answer. "Now leave me."

"As you wish." From his tone, it could have well been 'as you die.'

Whatever, who cares? If he likes me, if he hates me, it doesn't matter. I am what I am and no more.

"Master," I say and kneel, bending my head down. "Everything is ready."

"If everything is ready, why are you here?"

I look up. "To inform you of my departure time."

His eyes are too bright, too intense. I want to look away, but he'll take that for weakness. He already thinks I'm feeble. I lower my eyes. It doesn't hurt to let him continue to think that. Does it?

"You know," he says, lifting my chin up, "I know you better than you know yourself. I know the darkness in you that you wish to deny. You can't, my terror, you can't. You yearn for destruction, for death. That's why you're at my side. If you really wished to leave, you would have already done so."

How can I when Master kept me chained when I was a child until I was broken? How was I to escape? And when he finally freed me… I was too weak to resist him and what he offered. But I am not wholly his… not his terror.

"Oh Harry," he hisses and licks my lips, "you are such a stubborn boy."

I swallow and say nothing.

"Go," he commands.

I rise to my feet and head toward the door.

"One day," I hear him say, "you will realize that this is the life you're meant to have."

"Your mount, my lord." Snape hands me the reins to my small gelding, Lonan.

I narrow my eyes. "Where is Hedwig?"

My snowy owl is usually perched at the back of my saddle, making a vivid contrast against Lonan's sleek black coat. The two of them are all I need on the road. Hedwig would scout ahead and Lonan would carry me. What else do I need but them? My only friends.

"Lady Black is bringing her."

My back tenses. I hate the Bitch, and I am certain the animosity is returned double-fold. Of course, she's too much of a Slytherin to show it. She's a cunning one and a jealous one. I heard she was Master's favorite before he turned his eyes to me. I would gladly give it back to her, but the fixated gaze could not be turned.

"Harry," Bellatrix says, having the honor as Master's other apprentice to address me by name, "your bird."

Hedwig's dark eyes are whirling, as upset as I am to hear Bellatrix misidentifying her. I smile a little and her deep red lips twist into one of her own. I daresay hers is less sincere. I offer my arm and Hedwig flies onto it, her claws gripping my bare arm tightly. It's only just light enough to avoid drawing blood.

"May you travel swift to do our Master's bidding."

No words of safety from her; no, she'd prefer to see me dead. I incline my head, only a little. I am superior to her, and she knows it. She bows her head lower than I do and steps back.

"I will see you soon."

Oh how she wishes she wouldn't. Too bad I couldn't oblige. I stalk over to Lonan, who is a bit skittish. He balks a bit before settling down. My face is blank when Snape puts his hands together to give me a leg up. One of these days, I want to grow taller than him and look down at him as he's looking me down right now.

I'm on Lonan and I don't have to kick his sides, all I do is hiss, "You know where to go."

And my black gelding starts looping along.

I head to the Southlands. I could hunt for a suitable person in the Wastelands, but what's the use? All those that toil there are but a shadow of themselves. It's all the stench of death. It clings to them, suffocates them.

Hedwig digs her claws into my now leather clad arm, hooting with irritation at Lonan, who has started slowing down to a bone-jarring trot. My knees press into Lonan's side to lessen the jostling. But my attention was direct toward my surroundings. My gelding doesn't change gaits without reason.

I feel the magic pulsing toward me before I see who it's from. I twist around in my saddle and grab my sword from where it's sheathed behind my back. I push my power into it and it reflects the silver light.

I turn and see a fair head atop a grey stallion. Lonan's nostril flare and he is suddenly very still, all his attention directed toward the other horse. Hedwig's not happy either, puffing her feathers up. They feel threatened, but Lonan relaxes when I stroke his neck. I recognize whose son he is. With that hair and pale features… he must be Lucius Malfoy's son. A pity he doesn't know who I am. Attacking me is a promise of death.

My hood and formless robes are obscuring, but most know Death's Servant ridesLonan and carry Hedwig. There is no mystery, even if I keep my features shrouded. Who needs to see my face to know what I am after?

"You are trespassing," Malfoy's son sneers. "You must leave or else."

Hedwig hisses as much as an owl can. My fingers gently pet her breast feathers and she hoots affectionately. She's a protective thing, always coming to my defense. It's a reason I never carry her when Master's around. She would do… something we would both regret.

"Do you think you could stop me?" I ask coldly.

My words must have clawed at his pride because he heels his horse hard on the side and comes charging at me with his sword raised in a manner that's balanced and skilled. When he nears me, he launches himself off his sword, swinging his sword in a deadly arc—power throbbing from the blade.

I signal to Lonan and he drops to his knees and the Malfoy boy flies over me and lands hard on his knees. I swing off my mount and gesture once at Hedwig. She flies a little and attaches her to a specially made perch on the saddle. Her eyes are whirling and everything about her posture is unhappy. I sheath my sword and crouch next to the boy. Hedwig hoots with warning, but I ignore it.

The blond boy is lying there with his sword out of reach, probably a little drained his power usage, and I touch him to see if he's okay. Maybe he hit his head at an odd angle, but still that's better than me deflecting him at such a close angle. The backlash from that would have done far more damage.

My fingers only brush his cheek before I know, he's feinted. It's too late to draw back when he pushes a dagger into my gut. My hand grabs his wrist, pulling it and the dagger away from my flesh. I hold on tightly, using my magic to break his bones. He cries out in pain and his gray eyes cloud with pain. My blood is seeping out and I jerk him toward me.

"I should kill you," I whisper harshly. "I should slit your throat and watch you drown in your own blood."

I can feel his fear like I can feel my blood soak my robes. "No," he rasps. "Please…"

My hand curls around his throat. Lonan has moved closer, I can feel his presence near me. He is pissed; he can smell my blood. He'd probably trample the blond to death if I wasn't near. And Hedwig, I hear her screeching. She's a banshee when I'm hurt.

I dig my nails into his throat, hard enough to draw blood and his eyes start to roll back into his head. "Ask your father," I say softly. "Ask your father and you'll know why you should be dead."

I let go and he gasps for arm, cradling his wrist. I stand up and grab Lonan's mane. I slide onto his warm back and I force my back to be straight, even though it's excruciating. When I'm far enough away that I'm like a bird in the sky, I slump forward and press my hand against the wound. It's not bad; nothing like the pain Master can put me through. He broke me, after all.

But it's bad enough that I need to rest and heal. There's only one place I know and it's a half day's ride from here. I grit my teeth and push Lonan on. My gelding's only too willing, speeding up into a punishing gallop. It'll cut the time in half.

I look at Hedwig and she nods. She nips my ear and flies off.

"Take the hood off," she says. "And the robe."

I do what she asks. My tunic is soaked in blood and my head is spinning. She clucks her tongue in disapproval; Hedwig on her shoulder, hooting along with her. Those two are a matched pair.

She pushes my hands away as I try to undo the laces that hold the tunic together. She shoves me toward a chair and I'm naked from the waist up before I even know what's going on. The room's whirling an ugly purple rimmed with green.

"Oh Harry," she says, looking up with her fuzzy brown eyes, "you should have asked me to come to you."

I want to retort how could she… she doesn't have a horse like Lonan. But I'm too out of it to say anything. The day has gone down to a lower level of damnation. And I am ready to succumb to it.

I fall.

TBC

A/N: I don't know what to say other than thank you so much. This fic is a complete AU fantasy, though canon characters appear and hopefully IC. There's still magic but it's twisted into another form. I was surprised to get as many reviews as I did and hopefully this chapter more than meets your expectations!

I'm taking a vote on "Enthrall" over on LJ right now at... www(dot)livejournal(dot)com(slash)(tilde)yih
The link is also available off my personal archive.

Thanks to scorpion moon goddess, chocolatedemon, Mosrael ('nick from Abhorsen?), Kuroi Kitty (well it's not like a canon fic), Jade29, Iskjif, Cassa-Andra (Who knew? Sort of regret deleting my ML now), Jessie237, gothgurl666, Valore, Kira6, Spear and Magic Helmet, MarvoloSledgeHammer, Nostalgia587 (stories do die w/o acknowledgement ), HarlyX5-657 (Remus and Sirius should make an appearance), MirrorWakes, Eaiva le Fay (What angst? Just darkness and violence so far), Shattered Diamond, CannonFodder (Chimera IMO will get better once I get past the "pre-story" stage I'm in right now, which is the background), Julie Long, Kamorie, Daishiko (yes, no), Sarah R Potter, kitsune-dragon-inu, Thee-Unknown-Factor, japaense-jew (No, Yes, No, Fantasy time period), GreyGranian (yes), Spideria (yes), Danaan, and Agnus Dei (blushes).