Title: Surrender
Author: Meissa6
Summary: In which the locket horcrux takes advantage of a boy who'd never been alone until now.
Disclaimer: I do not, nor will ever, own the Harry Potter series, or any of its characters and plots.
Harry.
Harry Potter lifts his head, looking around himself. After a moment, he lowers it again.
He could've sworn some had spoken his name, yet there is nobody around to speak it. Hermione and Ron had left days ago, leaving Harry behind in a fit of anger. He's not sure where they are, but a large part of him hopes they're okay.
Another part wishes they aren't, but Harry ignores that piece of him.
He sighs, running his thumb along the edge of Slytherin's locket. He truly is alone in the forest, but hadn't he hoped for this? Surely his friends won't be harmed now that they are far from him. Of course, without Hermione's mind and Ron's — er, whatever Ron contributed — Harry is at a large disadvantage.
He's never been truly alone in this fight. First year, he had his friends. Second year, he had Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes. Third, fourth, and fifth years, he had his friends. Sixth year, Harry had Dumbledore himself, at least until the older man was murdered by none other than Severus Snape. But, even then, Harry had his training — his mission.
Now, he's in the middle of some forest, with a locket horcrux and no way to destroy it.
Harry.
Harry jumps to his feet, looking wildly around.
It could just be the wind and my paranoia, Harry reasons with himself.
He doesn't stick around to find out.
After packing everything into the shrunken bag that Hermione had so kindly given him, he apparates to another forest, this one further north in Britain. He remembers it from the hikes Vernon used to drag him along on when nobody could take him in.
Wasting no time, Harry sets up the protective spells. Then, he sets up the tent and settles in for the night. Hermione and Ron had left the radio, so that Harry could stay updated while on the run.
He turns it on for a few minutes, only to turn it off when he hears about the muggle attacks. His stomach twists at the thought of how many people are dying because he, Harry, is doing nothing. He should be searching for a way to destroy the locket, yet he is completely lost as to how.
Closing his eyes, he begs for at least one full night of sleep.
Harry.
You shall come to me.
You shall be mine.
Harry.
The next morning, Harry does his usual routine of checking the spells and strengthening some. They will only last for about three days if he's lucky, which is why he keeps everything ready to be moved in a moment's notice. Like yesterday, he runs the pad of his thumb over the edge of the locket.
He's curious, yes, about what might be inside, yet he's not foolish enough to open it without someway of destroying the thing. For all he knows, the locket could be cursed and opening it would result in only death. Harry mustn't die before he completes his mission. If anything, he hopes he doesn't die at all.
Harry.
The pain in his chest only grows worse as the days pass him by. He longs for his friends — no, for anyone — to speak to. The days fade into one another, one having no meaning or value than the last.
Four weeks since Ron and Hermione left, Harry can't remember why he is running.
Why run from the inevitable, he asks himself over and over again.
His friends know of the horcruxes; they can find and destroy them without Harry. His decision isn't made through tears and a cloudy mind, but rather with a strong sense of right. Perhaps, in the end, he was always going to die.
Harry steps out of the protection charms, running his thumb over the locket like he has been doing for weeks. He tucks it under his robes, breathing in deeply.
"Voldemort." He says.
The effect is almost instantaneous. Three men disapparate around him, their wands finding him. Then, one begins to laugh.
"The Dark Lord will reward us greatly!" The man sneers.
Harry doesn't answer, eyes firmly on the ground. Another round of sneers and then, Harry is knocked into unconsciousness.
Harry.
At last.
You have come to me.
You shall surrender to me.
Harry is awoken by the fact that his body is on fire. He jerks hard, screaming. Only when the pain fades does he realize that it was all in his mind and that he's not in flames. His body trembles as he looks up into burning red eyes.
"Harry Potter."
His name is somehow hissed and snarled at the same time. Voldemort's lips move into a wide smile. He crucio's Harry once more.
When Harry comes to his senses, he faintly discovers that his hand is wrapped around something metal. Voldemort must have seen what it was, for he commands the death eaters to leave. Harry's body shakes against the stone as he squeezes the locket.
Harry.
Harry hears his whispered name, but he somehow knows that Voldemort hadn't spoken. Why would the dark lord speak with such gentleness, especially to his enemy?
Harry forces his eyes to open, looking up at Voldemort. Yet, they are the only ones in the room, just like Harry was alone so many times in the forest. He realizes that the voice must be from the locket, from the horcrux within it.
"Open it, Potter." Voldemort commands, a glint in his otherwise unreadable crimson eyes.
Harry blinks, looking down at the locket. Hadn't he thought before that it might kill him? It would be unwise to do what Voldemort says, but to do otherwise will just result in his death anyways.
Harry.
Besides, he has been curious about the locket and why it has been talking to him.
Making a choice, Harry opens the clasp, shuddering as a burning feeling, not unlike the Cruciatus, seems to surround him. He looks up into the familiar red eyes, belonging this time to a black shadow-like creature that looms over him. It is almost like a dementor, but with the icy aura.
Oddly enough, Harry doesn't want to particularly escape this creature's presence. The darkness hovers over his body, surrounding him in an almost comforting way. Harry gasps as a warm feeling begins in his stomach, spreading out through his veins. A dark chocolate aftertaste is left in his mouth.
Then, the creature disappears and Harry's head feels much too heavy. Pain shoots through his scar and he screams, his hands moving to his forehead.
"Don't fight it, Potter!" Voldemort warns, but Harry barely hears him over his own screams.
It feels as though his body was dipped into a pool of burning lava. The pain is ten times worse than the Cruciatus.
Harry.
The horcrux whispers to him, and Harry stops screaming to listen.
"Harry, do not fight me. I shall not hurt you. I will take away the pain caused by your traitor friends."
Harry struggles against the building screams. He glimpses a look of interest in Voldemort's red eyes before he is forced to close his eyes.
"I shan't abandon you like they did, Harry, but you mustn't fight me. I will stay with you. We shall be great."
Harry tries to focus, to remember how he had dispelled Voldemort out of his mind before, but finds it much more difficult with the horcrux within his mind.
"Why would you desire to rid me? I have been with you, Harry, even when nobody else was. Do you not recall the nights I had been with you? How can you fight for them who have abandoned you? You are fighting a lost cause, Harry. You will never survive against Lord Voldemort!"
Harry's eyes fill with tears as the horcrux plays on his doubtful thoughts he has had since Ron and Hermione left.
The horcrux was right. Harry is fighting a lost cause, for people who have hated him more than anything else. Granted, he is listening to a piece of Voldemort, but at least he hasn't lied and pretended to care for Harry.
He closes his eyes, which had opened momentarily. Releasing a breath, Harry makes a choice.
He surrenders.