Extended Summary
Harry was a very happy child, surrounded by a loving and supportive family as he was. That all changed when he started school at Hogwarts, and everything slowly started to crash around him. He transferred to Durmstrang after a horrifying end to his first year and believed everything was behind him.
That is until the Triwizard Championships are reinstated.
Now Harry has to go back to the school that is the source of his trauma and face his demons. However, it seems there are more dangerous things than memories waiting for him in the shadows at Hogwarts.
Who is this new Professor Riddle? And why does he seem so obsessed with Harry?
Prologue:
The silence was most likely what led to Harry's current state.
All of his life, there had always been noise surrounding him. If there were no noise, Harry would fill the silence himself by either seeking company or calling on his magic. Even his mind couldn't seem to shut up. Every day, it was like a battle to stop the constant overthinking, observations, and errant thoughts that seemed to occupy most of his mind. Perhaps that's why occlumency never worked for him, a skill that probably would have saved him in this situation.
Unlike what most say when they can feel their life fading, there was no overwhelming relief that the pain was finally going to stop. For Harry, he grew numb to that quite a while ago. He grew numb to most things.
It was like watching a movie with the sound off and a film over the eyes.
Of course, one of those had to do with his glasses being taken and the curtains shielding his view.
Harry took his eyes off the light show outside his door and instead looked around the room, then toward the ceiling. On the way up, his eyes caught a glimpse of the chains holding him to the bed. Perhaps he should have screamed and fought, but he was just so tired lately. It didn't seem worth it to waste the energy he had left, as it wouldn't make a difference anyway. He knew these chains intimately, and no amount of fighting would wear them down.
His eyes continued their journey up, past the magnificently crafted headboard where a garden scene with dancing fairies spanned the entire thing. Past the empty wall and up the canopy of the bed. Past the objectively beautiful sheer green curtains that encased his mattress, trapping him further in this cage. Eventually, his eyes found the top of the canopy which held a giant mirror where a pair of vacant eyes sat staring back at him.
Eyes the same color as the curtains because the green of the curtain would complement his eyes so well.
Hair that was trailing down to the elbows and twined around the body because you look like a doll with long hair.
The blanket that hides the bottom half from view, black as midnight because alabaster skin looks striking against black.
A body that was nearing starvation, bones sticking out at every angle because food was a reward and he's an awfully naughty boy.
Skin that Harry knew used to be tan once, eyes that used to shine with laughter in a faraway memory. Hair that used to be wild and free, trying to be styled like a certain crazy godfather'. A body that used to be filled out with lithe muscles from years of quidditch and dueling practice.
This new body staring back at him made a truly terrible trophy. It was such an ugly little thing.
Harry's concentration broke, and he slowly dragged his gaze back to the outline of the door, the curtains obscuring his view. The door was violently flung open, and Harry assumed it made a hole in the wall from the force.
How rude.
He blinked lazily and flitted his eyes back from the wall to the figure now filling up the doorway. Their robes made them seem formless, but Harry could see a head and an arm out to the side, a wand poised, ready to attack. However, they would find no opponent here.
The figure quickly advanced on the bed, and using the same force that was used on the door, ripped the curtains from their post.
The poor house elves will have a lot to clean up after this.
And then green clashed with bottomless black.
A slow smile split across Harry's face, his lips cracking and starting to bleed. His head tilted to the side as he continued to hold eye contact. His throat was dry, but he was still able to let out a breathy chuckle.
"It's impolite to stare."
A flash of green lit up the room.
A/N
If anyone is coming from my other work, Intertwined, it's not abandoned; I am just stuck on where to go. Please be patient, and thank you for reading.