Finally, a Dark Angel update! Sorry it's taken so long, everybody! Not reaaaally super long but not a short chapter, either! Enjoy!

Would the people at school notice him gone? Like he may be hiding from them by you said he still went to classes so wouldn't they notice him gone?

Yes, but different students have different opinions on this. Some think he just stopped bothering showing up to classes and was sulking (probably in the Slytherin dorms and dungeons). Some thought he was dead. Well, really, there were all sorts of rumors, some of which including him joining Voldemort or already being a Death Eater (or even being Voldemort in disguise). Dumbledore, having checked the wards and whatever else allows him to rule over the school in all his omnipotence, knows he's gone but not where he went and so far hasn't made the fact public. Lily is still looking for him so she can force him to get along with everybody again. Remus is being hurt and being encouraged by Lily…as well as being dragged into her plot. The Marauders are the ones spreading rumors so…And, well, we know what Sev's doing.

Will someone find out that he shouldn't belong in the Marauder's era? And what's with all that shape shifting from Harry AND Sal's snake?

Really, the idea that someone you know is from another time is pretty farfetched (even if that person is a little odd) and, as far as I know, there's no way to tell unless Evan accidentally lets something slip that hasn't happened yet and even that can be explained away as a prediction. Harry can shapeshift so his familiar, who shares his magic, has also acquired the ability.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except some stuff. 'Some stuff' doesn't include Harry Potter or I'd have enough money to buy a lot of stuff instead of just some. Right?

:Mindspeech:

-Parseltongue-

Chapter Fifteen: Contemplation Jailbreak

Harry was bored. And annoyed. Sure, it was punishment enough for allowing himself to be tricked by such a simple trap but he had been 'tortured' enough, in his opinion. Playing the defiant Gryffindor and annoying the Death Eaters was fun but, though he hadn't had very much fun since his last prank against the Marauders, it got old very quickly. Besides, it was against his nature to allow himself to be captured, chained even, even though it was to his advantage that his capturers believe they had the upper hand. It seemed that all he had been doing for a long time was playing down on his abilities, letting Dumbledore, Snape (from Harry's time), and Voldemort have false control over him.

But the main part of it was that he was bored. There was little to do here: sleep, eat, wait to be tortured, scream, annoy the Death Eaters, and pretend to be insane. There weren't any books (or at least ones that were available to him) and pranks weren't taken well here. Not that he hadn't tried, but he could only use small ones that wouldn't draw attention to himself; Bellatrix had developed a nasty rash that changed colors and several Death Eaters had been caught humming on the odd occasion. His magic was still locked up and he couldn't access more than a small drop at a time; nowhere near the mere trickle that he would need to break free of the manacles.

Now it was time for the next torture session, worsening his frustration by reminding him of the fact that he couldn't be stubborn; he had to scream like any other prisoner no matter how undignified it was. The Gryffindor and Slytherin parts of his mind were battling quite fiercely on the subject; though he wanted to fight against his captors, he had to appear harmless until he found an opening. The anti-magic manacles were brilliantly crafted so he couldn't break the spells easily, despite the strength of his magic, for he couldn't access it; or, rather, he couldn't use any external magic. Thankfully enough, he was dangerous without a wand or even a weapon so he didn't have to worry much about his own safety, only whether or not he would be able to escape from this boring prison.

There was a rattle and Harry leapt up into a rough crouch, his hair brushing the stone ceiling of his too-small cell. The heavy bars gave another rattle as the Death Eater (sent, presumably to fetch 'Evan') magically unlocked the door. While there was nothing that discouraged escape more than a good, old-fashioned, heavy lock, it appeared as if those were too crudely Muggle for Voldemort to use. Harry would have been able to escape from one of those, too, unless it was warded; Harry had learned the art of picking locks from the twins after discovering its usefulness and Salazar to had found use for the skill on occasion. All this lock needed was a magical 'password', a small burst of magic belonging to a keyed magical aura, a spell simple enough for Harry to break, had he not been tied up by those accursed magical chains.

A large hand reached into the cage to try and drag Harry out but he darted away and hid in the furthest corner of the cage. The Death Eater smirked at his seemingly pitiful attempts and pushed his arm in further but it stopped just short of Harry, who was pushing himself as flat to the opposite bars as possible. He resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the Death Eater or something equally immature but couldn't hold back a soft snicker. The Death Eater scowled and ducked his head into the cage, grabbing the front of Harry's robes with his huge hands. Harry was suddenly reminded forcibly of Uncle Vernon. He scowled at the man, angry that the Death Eater had ruined his fun.

"Who's laughing now?" The Death Eater jeered, pulling Harry out of the cage. Or at least he attempted to, Harry was not clinging onto the opposite bars with all his might. The Death Eater made a grunting sound and pulled harder. Okay, then, it was time to go on the offensive. Feral, he was supposed to be acting feral. His hands and feet were occupied by trying to regain lost ground, though he was slowly slipping backwards. There was only one option, really and why not? It had worked on Remus. Granted, he expected Remus to have much better hygiene than the Death Eaters like this big one, who looked and behaved much like Crabbe and Goyle. But he simply could not let idiots like this big Death Eater get the better of him, no matter the advantage or disadvantage. Harry bit the Death Eater on one of the arms that had claimed his robes (tattered, dirty, and frayed robes, which appeared like they would rip any second). The man let go with a shout and, cursing, withdrew his arm from the cage.

Harry spit out the taste of dirt and who knew what other filth that had accumulated on the Death Eater's hands and arms. There also seemed to be a bit of blood, though he was unsure whether he had bitten hard enough to draw blood (he certainly hadn't held back) or if the blood was from…something else. The idea wasn't altogether reassuring and Harry spat again.

Smirking, he crawled back to 'his' corner and waited for the next Death Eater that was brave enough to approach 'his' cage. This particular little game usually ended with a cursing Bellatrix dragging Harry over to wherever Voldemort and the other Death Eaters were waiting, threatening him all the while. Harry knew they were empty threats, though, as Voldemort wanted him unharmed, except for the torture by potions and spells – he was a Parselmouth, after all, and Voldemort wanted him on their side. Voldemort probably did not want a scared or handicapped person constantly around him, Pettegrew was definitely enough.

Bellatrix did eventually drag him from his cage and was currently hissing insults and threats at him but Harry wasn't listening. It was time he had a little fun; after all, Slytherins were well known for their talent at mind-games. Even merely annoying the Death Eaters would wear away at them bit by bit and possible get him closer to escape. Bonus points if he could unnerve a whole group of them.

They passed through corridor after torch-lit corridor while Harry quietly mused at the difference between these stone passages and Hogwarts' own. For one thing, Salazar had built Hogwarts' dungeons so, automatically, those qualified as better and more worthy than these. These walls were a deeper slate color than Hogwarts' light grey and there were no lines to show the border between individual stones; the walls appeared to be made of one giant slab of stone. The torches here were also dimmer and further spaced than the ones in most Hogwarts corridors. Apart from that…There really wasn't anything. Rock was rock. Hogwarts was just Hogwarts and that made her special. Harry felt slightly homesick. Oh, well…he'd better hurry up and escape, then, so he could see the old castle again.

Bellatrix and Harry arrived at the usual destination, a fairly large room somewhere in the lower levels of Voldemort's base, and Bellatrix pushed him forward so he landed in a sprawled heap on the ground before returning to the semi-circle of solid black that was the other Death Eaters. Semi-circle instead of the usual circular 'role-call' because Harry was to be tied to the wall instead of chained up in the middle of the circle as he had been when Voldemort had returned in his fourth year. The two heavier Death Eaters that had been following the Bellatrix and the prisoner to their destination, the two who were originally sent to fetch Harry, grabbed his arms and tied him to the wall by the heavy manacles.

Medieval as it might have seemed, it made him the easiest target for potions and spells without giving him an opportunity to fight back. And, of course, wizards were rarely accused of being 'modern', especially the purebloods. Harry was lucky that wizards of this day and age had very poor defenses; that meant that the newer and 'improved' spells and potions were easier to block and, even if he failed, they hardly did any damage to him anyways. Potions were harder to block so it was good that none of the Death Eaters could brew potions one hundred per cent correctly. Even the littlest flaw could be pinpointed and the potion would often become useless against him; his own defensive internal magic able to break the incorrect potions down into harmless ingredients, the healing ones negating the harmful ones. The potions that worked, the ones actually brewed without any major flaws or the ones containing harmful ingredients unable to be canceled out by the more benevolent ones…Well magics nowadays were practically harmless. The only thing that worried him was that Voldemort might soon get bored of him and allow other, more "Muggle" torture methods.

But all that aside, this torture session was just the same as all of the rest. Except for not, somehow. Harry looked around at the Death Eaters, slightly puzzled. This meeting was different…how? And then it hit him; these were no longer the twisted adults that served Voldemort but the younger Death Eaters, the frightened children, most forced to take his mark. Of course, he thought as his eyes fell on a haughty child that had to be Lucious Malfoy, there were those that were proud of the mark they bore.

But this was more personal. Before, when he had been at Hogwarts, he had enough to do trying to keep the timelines strait. Evan had no influence within the Serpent house and he could do nothing but watch as his house tore itself apart over Salazar's supposed heir. Even as he was tortured, there was nothing he could do; the Death Eaters who tortured him were adults and, no matter which house they had belonged to when (or if) they attended Hogwarts, most of them were as twisted and cruel as Voldemort himself. But these children were his Slytherins, his that he should have, might have, been able to protect had he been Head of Slytherin. Nothing against the current Head, of course, but the Slytherins didn't trust her and she was too busy clutching onto her tentative position to help her house, no matter how much she might have tried.

Could he do anything, communicate with any of them, without causing a paradox? He wouldn't contact any (or at least most) Death Eaters he knew from his time, not because of the fact that he knew what they would become but because these were the haughty ones that stood by Voldemort's side, overflowing with their belief of their own self-importance. Harry's own rather lose view of time-travel was that this had all already happened and that, while his own wish to not cause a paradox prevented several, if he act naturally as he would without his knowledge of what was to come, it would all work itself out in the end. For all he knew, even if he tried it might be impossible to kill Voldemort in this time because it simply hadn't happened. Well, for all he knew, he could have killed Voldemort and replaced him with a highly-intelligent monkey, if that was how the future was supposed to be (though he somewhat doubted it). Or perhaps being thrown back in time had created an alternate reality separate to his own so, no matter what he did here, nothing in his world would change. There were too many variables and no real way of knowing; at least until he got back to his own time and then it would be too late to do anything in the past.

Harry argued to himself for several minutes while the Death Eaters shifted nervously, unsure who was to start as their 'Lord' had yet to arrive. In the end, after he had chased his line of thought around several circles and contradicted himself at least twice, he decided that he was fed up with not doing anything and he didn't care about destiny and paradoxes. They were his Slytherins, after all, and he could hardly sit around doing nothing. Nobody had ever actually proved anything about time travel and its effects, anyways; most of it was just theory. He had the feeling that what he was doing was probably more Gryffindor rashness but found that he didn't care.

Now, how could he contact the Slytherins without Voldemort knowing? Speech was impossible…but not Mindspeech. Wasn't that how he had contacted Draco when he had rescued him and Snape from Voldemort? But he'd only ever tried Mindspeech as a spirit and that was without the wild magical imbalance…But then what did he care. His entire life (well, both of them) was full of impossibilities and improbabilities.

Harry smirked. Let the games begin.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Severus groveled appropriately as Voldemort appeared. He carefully kept his face and mind blank of all emotion, not allowing even disgust at himself for bowing down to the 'Dark Lord'. Lord Voldemort was a powerful Legilimence and he knew not even the basics of Occlumency. Thankfully, the lower ranks weren't seen as worthy enough to even look up during meetings and only the higher-ranked Death Eaters were seen as 'worthy' or bold enough to look their master in the eye.

He fingered the vials lying innocently in the hidden pocket of his robes. They tinkled softly as they bumped against each other. Seven bottles, he reviewed silently, each with varying degrees of clearness, all highly-ranked in difficulty and made specifically for torture. The quicker he rose in the ranks of the Death Eaters, the more people he could save, including Evan. That is, if his friend survived much longer. The Slytherin knew all to well the chances of getting his friend out of Voldemort's lair alive. His own poisons would only add to his friend's misery. Hand-brewed as the potions were, he knew that each had minute flaws, probably the only potions that he would ever botch on purpose, though he had no delusions about the ineffectiveness of the potions. They were still just as horrible, just as painful as they originally would have been.

Severus snapped his mind back to the present as Voldemort stopped speaking, motioning for the first Death Eater, a trembling fifth year, to step forward and show Voldemort what impressive torture spell or potion he had found. The fifth year stepped up and paused, seemingly readying himself for the spell he was going to cast, gripping his wand tightly.

Evan suddenly looked up, emerald gaze focused on the fifth year. The younger Slytherin flinched and took a step back. They stared at each other for a few seconds before the fifth year blinked and took another step back, shaking his head a little. His grip on his wand tightened and he pointed it at Evan, shooting a burst of black, crackling lightning-like magic towards Evan.

Severus winced and balled his hands into fists to stop them from flying up to cover his ears as his friend's screams filled the large chamber. The fifth year stepped back to his spot among the Death Eaters, looking simultaneously shaken and smug.

The rest of the Hogwarts-attending Death Eaters present stepped forward one by one and something similar happened to each of them. Evan looked at each of the Death Eaters and either simply looked down again or stared at the Death Eater for a minute before one of them looked away. Then the Death Eater either shot a spell at Evan or shoved a potion down his throat. The screams were the same, anyways.

All too soon it was Severus's turn. He walked up to middle of the half-circle, gripping the vial of the first potion so tightly that he was sure the delicate glass would crack right there in his pocket, despite all the charms to prevent it from doing so. His friend did not look up as he had done with the other Death Eaters. Maybe he was unconscious; maybe the Dark Lord would allow the torture to end here. Severus would have laughed (well, not aloud) if the situation was less serious; that was too close to merciful and mercy was something the Dark Lord simply did not do. He hesitated.

"What are you waiting for," Voldemort asked. Severus gulped; he had not meant to catch the Dark Lord's attention in such a way.

"My Lord, he is not looking up," he replied evasively, hoping his voice sounded more natural than it did to his ears.

Voldemort raised his wand but at that moment 'Evan' looked up,

"Ah, sorry," He said cheerfully, as if he hadn't just been tortured and screaming for over an hour nonstop, "Didn't realize there was another one there. Must have miscounted." He grinned disarmingly. He looked totally out of place. He got a crucio for his efforts anyways.

Breathing heavily after the screaming but still grinning cheerfully he looked over at Severus. Vivid green eyes met black and Severus was sure that his friend recognized him. Or was he just being paranoid.

"Go on then," the captive said in a not-quite-goading tone, "Let's see what you have up your sleeves." Was there a meaning behind that careful emphasis on 'you' or was he, once again, just being paranoid?

Figuring that that was just about as much an invitation as anything and that Voldemort would just kill them both (or just him) if he refused, he approached his friend carefully, pulling the vial out of his pocket, relieved to see that it hadn't cracked. His friend appraised the vial and the potion inside warily and…was that a flash of approval in those emerald eyes? What the hell?

He carefully opened the vial (the tops had, recently become more muggle seeing as corks and such could interfere with the potions) and raised it to his friend's lips. And paused. Again. Later he would swear to Voldemort that he just wanted to create suspense and torment the prisoner but at the moment he was seriously considering just dropping the vial, grabbing his friend, and getting the hell out of there. His fantasy didn't last long but a squeamish sensation still filled the pit of his stomach. He hesitated very, very briefly. If he didn't get on with it, Voldemort would just crucio both of them.

:Do it.: A voice (Evan's voice?) echoed firmly in his head. Severus was sure he was hallucinating. Perhaps he was trying to justify his actions slightly. Whatever the cause, it was what made him tip the bottle. His friend's screams nearly made him flinch but he knew that if he gave away any such emotions at this point in time he was in trouble.

He pulled the second vial out of his pocket, making sure that his hands stopped trembling before they were removed from the black cloth. The second time was a bit easier but still he hesitated. No voice was there to guide him this time. Severus emptied the second vile into Evan's mouth feeling…hollow.

:And if you don't mind: the voice was talking to him again, despite Evan's screams:If I could borrow just a bit of your magic…Of course when I say borrow I mean steal, as there really is no way to give it back, though it would come back eventually on it's own. I could always give you some of my own if you really want. Wouldn't recommend it, though; it might have some strange unforeseeable consequences.: And then he muttered in a way that made Severus feel like he wasn't meant to hear:Doesn't it always:

And this was all purely ridiculous, Severus decided as he emptied a third vial, as he didn't even have a way to answer. And no, there was not anyone to answer, as this was all a figment of his imagination. Nevertheless he decided to try in the only way he could: he thought back.

:Um…: And Slytherin's simply did not say 'um'. Ignoring his pitiful first attempt he tried for another:How:

:Just skin contact, you know, I should be able to do the rest myself. Push my head back so you can pour some more of that potion (nice job by the way, I won't even bother telling you about the flaws, since I'm sure you already know all of them) down my throat or 'accidentally' touch my face when you're giving me the next potion: The voice suggested hopefully:I promise not to take to much. Of course that's according to your standards since I don't even know what would happen to you if I take 'not much' in my own standards of magic out of you.: The voice (Evan?) seemed to realize that it was rambling and was suddenly quiet. And then Severus realized that the screams were quite too and dumped another vial of potion down his friend's throat, trying not to think about what he was doing and focusing more on the conversation, hallucination or not.

Severus considered. It was all a figment of his imagination, so it couldn't hurt, right? And if it wasn't, it was Evan and Severus trusted his friend. He paused and thought back. Did he really trust him and truly consider Evan his friend? Trust was a dangerous thing among Slytherins and 'friendship' was not even in their vocabulary.

:Okay.: He eventually decided.

:Thanks, Sev: and his friend's voice was relieved. There was no doubt about who it was now, he doubted even the 'voices'-that-did-not,-apparently,-reside-in-his-head-after-all would call him by that ridiculous name:I really owe you for this. Not sure what I would do without it but…I would'a thought of something. Of course what I thought of was asking you so…Yeah…But I'll make it up to you some day…: there was an awkward sounding pause on the other end before he continued:…I promise.:

And then he stopped screaming and slumped, eyes staring at the ground in a dull way that made Severus shiver. He knew that it was an act, though, and pushed his friend's face up. A small portion of his magic…leached…from him; there was no other way to describe it. Just a gentle almost pulling sensation and then it was gone. He turned around and joined the other Death Eaters without even bothering to 'say' something back.

:I'm making my escape the night after next. Possibly Voldemort will not be calling you for a while afterwards: There was a slight smirk in Evan's voice:If you would like to talk, I'll meet with you in the second dungeon passageway off of the Great Hall, in the room behind the tapestry of those witches around that huge cauldron.:

:Oh, so now you're talking to me again: Even winced but before he could reply, Severus answered:Fine, I'll be there.:

Two days left to go before he would be able to escape from the horrible place. It probably could have been sooner but he wanted to draw attention away from the new recruits, particularly Severus.

He could wait that long.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Despite the ominous feeling that lingered in the air for the next few days, the night of Harry's escape came quickly and without a hitch. It was almost too easy the way that he had been able to slip out of his manacles and cage with some external magic to help him. Without the chains restricting his magic, all of a sudden he could do anything he wanted. It was quite frightening, actually, but he got over the sensation pretty quickly.

As much as he wanted to both hex and prank Voldemort and his followers until they could no longer harm or terrorize him or anything else (an odd cross between both his natural Gryffindor reactions and his Slytherin ones), he did not want to underestimate this particular Dark Lord ever again and so he crept quietly and made his way outside of Voldemort's 'lair', that itself a feat that took a lot of concentration and careful wandering, as he did not dare to use his magic so soon. Carefully whispering an incantation, he watched as a pale blue-violet mist descended on the castle-like building, filling the space inside the invisible dome that was the wards. The mist thickened rapidly until you could not see inside at all.

Harry surveyed his handiwork carefully. It was a sleeping spell far, far too advanced to be taught at Hogwarts unless it was a specialized class and even then it was just too difficult and dangerous to use or practice carelessly. It would (hopefully) keep Voldemort and his companions asleep for a month or two and by the end of that time Harry would most likely be back in his own time, taking with him all memories of 'Evan'. It was painfully obvious that, in the future, nobody remembered him, judging from the reactions of all the people that he met in both this time and his own.

And so, in the next month or two, he would have to get everything that he needed done in this time done including, most likely, some sort of memory charm that would cover…some large amount of space that he did not even want to think about. After all, at least some students had most certainly written something about 'Evan' to their parents or siblings or friends. Or even in their diaries. He could put a type curse on the name 'Evan Harrison' but it was too common a name to do something like that.

So he was having a tough time with that.

He needed to visit the library.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Was going to do more but…Nah, let's just leave it like that. I'll try and update soon, promise. If the writing part of my brain keeps working I just couldn't write further than this (I'm not sure if it's because my inspiration died or not but I think it's just because my muses thought it was a nice place to stop). I was going to add more outside of the captured-by-Voldemort part but…Yeah.

Sorry it was so boring!

You know, I noticed a funny thing. I get fewer reviews if I update sooner because I don't give you so much time to reply. But I'll try and review quickly anyways, so please review; it's not as fun without comments!

Review!