It is sadder to find the past again and find it inadequate to the present than it is to have it elude you and remain forever a harmonious conception of memory.
~ F. Scott Fitzgerald
The first thing that hit them was the cold. It chilled their bones, seeping into their flesh, and making the unexplainable feeling of dread tingle along their skin. Harry felt Dobby tremble next to him, his ears drooping as if they could offer some protection. Dumbledore looked calm as ever, but there was an electricity in the air that had been absent in the office.
The smell of sea salt clung to their nostrils. They had appeared in the opening of a cave... a cave that was very, very familiar. Water trickled down the uneven walls, plants clinging onto the slippery surface, all fighting for the best spot. There was dampness too. It mingled with the sea salt, and to Harry it reminded him of decay. A preview of the rotting flesh concealed beneath the murky waters of the lake.
He could see the island. The eerie glow of the basin was visible amongst the darkness. It was like a beacon of hope to those who managed to stumble past the cave's protections, until they were claimed by the inferi, destined to become one until the caster either cancelled the spell or died.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, the sound reverberating off the stone, but stopping Harry's mind from focusing anymore on the horrors hidden just out of sight. Dobby looked up at him, his green eyes filled with fear, but also with a steel Harry had not expected from the chatty elf, and Harry felt the first sparks of respect ignite.
"It should be around here somewhere," mumbled Dumbledore, moving towards the bank's edge... his left foot dangerously close to the water.
"Sir, the inferi, remember," warned Harry, reaching out to pull the Headmaster back.
"I have not forgotten, Harry... Ah! Here it is!" Dumbledore's hand had grasped something, and Harry saw the familiar rusty chain appear, coiled in his aged hand. With a strength belying his years, Dumbledore pulled the chain, and a boat sailed towards them, stopping when it hit the bank. Harry had to admit, that whilst his father was brilliant with some of his feats of magic, this wasn't one of his best. The boat was small, big enough for one fully grown wizard, but Voldemort had not suspected an underage one and a house-elf being able to get past his defences too, and although it was tight, the boat managed to fit them all.
It was foolish to base protections on information one assumes, and that would be Voldemort's downfall.
Careening into the darkness, Harry saw the glow become brighter, not dimmed by the mist exuding from the lake. The temperature seemed to drop the closer they got, and he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and Dobby, who was situated on his lap. Dumbledore smiled at this, but apart from that no words or signals were exchanged, all their thoughts were towards the island, and the horcrux it contained.
Harry's breath fogged in front of him as he moored the boat, pining the chain under a rock. Dobby was waiting for Dumbledore. The man was rummaging in his pockets, before finally producing what appeared to be a small, silver lighter. Staring at it, Dumbledore smiled once more, and he clicked a switch. Nothing happened at first, but then a ball of light zoomed out of the small device, floating up to the ceiling, and illuminating all.
"That should keep our friends at bay," said Dumbledore, moving quickly up to the basin.
Harry was slightly awed. The solution was indeed clever, but now was not the time for admiration, and so he pushed it aside. Clambering up the rocky embankment, Harry followed the Headmaster and Dobby, finding them staring at the basin.
Up close it was even more eerie. The green glow seemed to pulsate, shimmering in the air before receding, hinting at the poison contained within. A large shell sat next to the basin, and when Harry tried to touch the luminous liquid, he found that only the shell could breach the barrier. Crude, but effective.
"I must drink it," said Harry, picking up the shell.
"No, you are too important," said Dumbledore, reaching out to take the shell.
"Dobby volunteers, Masters," Dobby squeaked, and once more Harry felt his respect for the small creature grow.
"No! Here me out. When I was a child, Voldemort made me drink this when he checked on the locket after Regulus Black failed to steal it. It was to test my loyalty. Beforehand he had given me a potion to make the effects less severe - he wouldn't want his heir dying on him after all," Harry's voice took on a bitter tone, "The potion taught my antibodies how to react, and so I won't die. If any of you drink it you will, and so it is only logical for me to do this."
"Harry, are you sure?" Dumbledore looked incredibly reluctant, and Harry opened his mind, lowering his defences and inviting the Headmaster to see the truth.
"Harry, you must drink this now. Do it for your father," coaxed Voldemort, holding the shell up to the small boy's lips.
"I don't wanna!" said Harry stubbornly, crossing his arms.
"I will be very pleased if you do, you know I would never hurt you, Harry," said Voldemort gently.
"You sure?" asked Harry, eyeing the liquid suspiciously.
"Of course, Harry."
"Okay!" said Harry happily, seeing his father smile.
The liquid had burned slightly, and he had coughed after the first sip. Voldemort had insisted he was fine, and so he drank... and drank. Images swirled before his eyes, and he had screamed, but even then he consumed that which tormented him. It made his father happy after all.
"Harry, you're alright now. It's over," soothed Voldemort, "You have made me very happy, and you will be rewarded."
Harry opened his eyes, the cave swimming back into his vision. He felt a lot better, and his stomach was a little sloshy when he moved. Harry giggled at this, earning a chuckle from his father.
"Well done, Harry, let's go home."
"See, I was fine," pointed out Harry, seeing Dumbledore's ashen face.
"You were a child," he gasped, gripping the pedestal for support.
"I was never a child, but you see, I will be fine," said Harry.
"I would rather you never had to go through that again," sighed Dumbledore, sadness colouring his tone.
"It is not the worst thing I've done," argued Harry.
"... Do it," Dumbledore's words echoed throughout the cave, and Harry never hesitated, plunging the shell into the liquid, and bringing it to his lips. Fire burned down his throat, the familiar burn pooling in his stomach.
"Dobby, when I can't do this, make me drink this. Dumbledore, don't let me get to the water," ordered Harry, sipping once more.
Voldemort taking away his favourite bear, the one Bellatrix had sneaked to him behind her Master's back. He had cried for hours, before being told that boys do not cry, and that he should be proud... he was becoming a man. He never felt any different after those words, he was still a child, and he had lost his only friend in the castle.
The potion was cool at first, before exploding into the fireball. Harry wondered if it was worse the older one got. The older you were the more magically powerful it was assumed you would be, it would be a logical defence, and he was glad that Dumbledore hadn't attempted to drink it. If this was what it did to one just over age, then what it would do to the Headmaster did not bear thinking about.
The pain as he was tortured was endless. To build up his defence if he was ever captured by the Order his father had told him, but as the curses riddled his body, Harry couldn't see the logic in that at all. The Light wouldn't do this… and that was where the first traitorous thought had bloomed, before being pruned through years of conditioning.
Dobby was now bringing the shell to his lips, his little chants of 'Just one more, Master Harry,' and 'You need to keep drinking, Sir!' kept him going a little, giving him a little more drive. He was aware of Dumbledore's concerned eyes on him, but there was little the aged wizard could do now.
His first witness of torture. He was three, and he had lost his snitch - this one from Pettigrew. The screams had attracted him, and the made his way to the main hall, peeking through the crack in the wall, the one he used to see if his father was in a bad mood or a good mood when he summoned him. The woman, a blond, was writhing on the floor, her back arched, as his father trained his wand on her, glee filling his features. The room radiated power, and Harry quickly shuffled along, wanting to see no more.
"Water! I need water!" he gasped, limbs flailing as he tried to knock the shell out of Dobby's hands. He clawed at the rock, trying to find some purchase on the slippery tone, anything to pull him closer to his goal. He snarled when strong hands encased his upper arms, moving him back to the basin. He never wanted to go back there... Please don't make me go back there... Please... No! Another sip, another wave of agony.
And then the blessed words:
"Last one, Master Harry."
His pain was nearly over, and he eagerly sipped, not caring if it was burning, only that it would bring him closer to the end of this ordeal... Once consumed, the burning need for water took hold once more, and he rallied against his captor, fighting tooth and claw to get to the precious liquid.
A whispered 'Stupefy' was all it took to knock him out.
"Harry," the voice was gentle, caressing his ears. It was almost grandfatherly, and Harry felt compelled to answer. Opening his eyes, he was blinded by a bright orb. It showed him craggy ceilings, gloomy in their colouring, but as his eyes focused, he also became aware of two concerned faces. One had large green eyes, the other small blue ones, partly hidden by half-moon spectacles. When their features became more pronounced, Harry felt his mind stir, bringing up the names Dobby, and Albus Dumbledore.
"What happened?" he asked, his head thudding a little. Gingerly sitting up, he saw Dobby had tears in his eyes, and Dumbledore was looking graver than normal.
"Master Harry is very brave," sobbed Dobby, "Much braver than Dobby!"
"Er... thanks, Dobby, I think," he replied, looking slightly confused as he took in the crying elf.
"Harry, are you alright?" asked Dumbledore.
"Yes, I'm fine, just a headache," replied Harry.
"So it worked? The potion you had as a child," pressed the Headmaster.
"Yes, although I was a little concerned for a while," confessed Harry, standing up before wobbling a bit, and holding onto the stone basin.
"You weren't sure?" Dumbledore's voice had a hint of anger in it.
"I was fairly sure," corrected Harry, "Did you manage to get the horcrux?"
"Yes, it appears the inferi were scared off by my deluminator," said Dumbledore, holding the locket before Harry's eyes. The ornate 'S' jumped out at him, and Harry traced it, feeling a faint pulse beneath the metal.
"Once we get back we shall destroy it, and then you need to summon the Order," said Harry, his senses returning quickly.
"Will Voldemort know if we destroy it?"
"It is possible, with only one horcrux left, it is more likely he will feel it, especially as this is his most recent one," answered Harry, before kneeling down in front of Dobby, "Dobby, I'm fine, is it possible for you to take us back to the castle?"
Dobby looked at Harry critically for a moment before being seemingly satisfied with his condition, he also looked slightly delighted at being asked and not ordered "Of course, Master Harry."
Huddling together, Dobby clicked his fingers just as Dumbledore recalled the ball of light. As they disappeared, Harry saw a withered hand rise out the lake, before leaving the scene behind them, and hurtling on into the darkness.
A/N: Thank you for the feedback! I felt Voldemort would see that as a good test for Harry - drinking something he knew would hurt him just to please his father - and I never really wanted Dobby drinking it (I have too much of a soft spot for that elf!) There are only two chapters left, and I'll try and get them up this week if I have time :) I hope you've enjoyed this one and reviews would be appreciated!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter :'(
I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter.