Shattered Surrender
by sick-atxxheart
Chapter Four
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Voldemort wasn't quite sure what to feel as he watched the small child shake in front of him. He had certainly seen enough pain and death in his life to know that the boy was dying, and fast- and without proper medical treatment, it would inevitably be too late. An unbidden smirk rose onto the pale-faced man as he moved closer to the child to examine the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.
It was almost pretty, Voldemort decided. It was a shame that Potter, of all people, was the one to carry it- but now, when said person was lying in front of him just moments away from death, it seemed almost selfish to think so cruelly. After all, he had been the one who had given him the scar in the first place.
Voldemort knew, without a doubt, that he had a decision to make and he had to make it fast. Just a few years ago he wouldn't have hesitated to watch the boy die in pain, as he surely would now if he waited any longer; but now, with Harry Potter at his disposal and his decision, his mind seemed to present a different option- one he couldn't help but lean towards.
The power that was still swirling around the boy was obvious. Voldemort had always thought that Azkaban killed a person's magic just as it killed your will to live and your happiness, but that seemed to not be the case with Potter. Voldemort was not a healer, and didn't pretend to be, but a quick diagnostic of the boy's magic told him it was still very much intact. It just didn't make sense- he had run the same test on Bellatrix, and she had shown to have barely any magic in her left. Magic did regenerate itself after enough time elapsed, but for the child to not lose any... it puzzled Voldemort to no end, and he couldn't help but be curious enough to want an answer. What was even more puzzling was that Potter was extremely powerful in the first place.
Potter shook again, his body lapsing into spasms that shook his small body to the bones. Voldemort flinched, reminded uncomfortably of a few memories he didn't wish to relive. Pushing those thoughts away, his sharp voice broke the silence. "Severus!" Quickly, the tall man turned his around to face the door, effectively blocking the shaking body from view.
The dark-haired man was in the room in a second, bowing down low respectfully. "Yes, my Lord?" He had learned by now not to assume anything, and he kept his words carefully controlled.
Voldemort's voice was purposefully cold as he stepped out of the way, guesturing sharply towards the bloody body of Harry Potter. "Your new patient," he said firmly, watching Severus' face flicker through emotions so fast he could barely define them. Recognition... anger... hatred... worry... and finally, the cool calmness that was Severus' normal demeanor broke through all the others, and before Voldemort even thought about reacting the dark-haired man had his wand out. Immediately the boy was levitated into the air gently and was following Severus' retreating form out the door.
Voldemort waited for Severus to notice his mistake, and it only took a few steps for him to do just that. Quickly he whipped around and was bowing on the floor in seconds, murmuring, "I'm sorry, my Lord. May I take the boy and heal him- I assume that is your intent?"
Voldemort's nod was carefully cold and calculated, and he could almost see Severus' sigh of relief. "Go. Heal him. Keep me updated." It was a small act of kindness, Voldemort knew, for him to let Severus go without punishment- but he rather liked the dark-haired man. He had been a good and loyal follower throughout the years, and Voldemort did not doubt that his job as a double agent on both sides was not easy. He knew that Snape was loyal to him, and always would be, and for that reason his want to punish the man had considerably weakened over the years.
Immediately Severus was gone, and Voldemort sat down on his high-backed chair to think further. His instinct to take the boy with him from the hellhole the world called Azkaban still confused him; but even as cruel and cold-hearted as he was, he knew the child was innocent.
He reminds you of yourself. His mind hissed at him angrily, the words spitting and spiteful. The Dark Lord immediately pushed them away, but even he couldn't deny the truth. Harry Potter was more similar to Tom Riddle- now, Voldemort- than either cared to admit.. but in reality, Voldemort wasn't even sure if Harry knew who he was. Voldemort's best guess was that the boy had been abused, and had suddenly used Dark Magic as protection.
A willing mind to mold, a powerful force to be joined with, a world to destroy. His mind whispered to him further, and he smirked at those words.
What fun.
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Severus Snape rubbed his eyes tiredly as he looked once again over at the small boy, who was sleeping across the room. The injuries he had sustained while in Azkaban were far beyond what a normal child should ever experience, and beyond that a normal child should have never been able to live with them. Severus knew Harry Potter was not a normal child. Severus hated it. The government in the Wizarding World was so corrupt- and he had never really realized the extent of that corruption until now.
He had been expecting anything else to show up when the Dark Lord moved out of the way- but to see Lily's son, Lily's son... that had shocked him the most, and he still wasn't quite sure how to deal with it. He had always promised himself that he would hate the boy for the rest of his life, because he should have been the one with Lily. But now that the small child was here, so broken, so lost... it seemed almost cruel to keep those feelings just for the sake of having them.
The boy truly was broken. His body had been near the point of death from starvation, cold, and injuries; and a quick glance in his mind using Llegimency had told Severus all he needed to know. Harry Potter's mind had been broken along with his body; there were random words swirling around in his head, a jumbled mess of nothingness and emptiness that really just didn't make sense.
Severus had worked hard to heal Harry's bodily injuries, but it hadn't been easy. Scars were already driven into his flesh, and if Severus wasn't wrong he guessed that they weren't all from Azkaban. Blood had been coated on his body, along with dirt and remnants of food that appeared to have been there for quite some time. His hair was a ratty mess, and his eyes were glazed over.
Severus was quite sure he didn't have a heart ever since Lily's death, but it appeared he did; for when he saw the so-called Boy-Who-Lived helpless and hopeless, it tightened quite painfully.
The dark-haired man's mind tried to keep telling him to hate the child, to let him die. The more logical part of his brain, however, told him that would not be wise; both because of the inevitable repercussions that would come, and because it wasn't humane.
No, Severus thought to himself. He won't die. And from now on, I'll call him Harry.
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Am I dead? I have to be dead. It hurt so much. Where am I? I don't hurt anymore. This can't be real. Can it? It feels real. But it can't be. I must have died. I hope I died. That way I'd be with Mommy and Daddy again. I want to be with them, but they are dead. I have to be dead too to be with them. Am I dead? Oh, please let me be dead. But I don't feel dead. I feel alive, like I am.. sleeping. Or something like that. This can't be real. It doesn't hurt anymore... I hated that place. I hope I'm out of there. I hope I won't have to go back. Oh, please don't make me go back! Please... I'll die there. Am I already dead? I can't quite remember. I hope I died, that would be nice... Maybe someone helped me. But who would do that? No one cares about me. Mommy and Daddy cared about me. I think. But they're dead and gone now. And they aren't coming back. That's what they told me, a long time ago. And then they put me in Azkaban. With no one. But Bella, she was nice... she helped me. Where is Bella? Did she die too? Oh wait, I'm not dead. I think. Does that mean I am alive? I don't know. I can't tell. I don't really care. Where's Bella? She was nice to me... am I dead?
Harry suddenly started, and Severus jumped. He had felt guilty about listening in on what the boy's thoughts were, but he was glad he did. It revealed just how badly the boy had been broken, and he had decided it wasn't quite as bad as he had thought. Harry could still put together semi-intelligent thoughts, even if they were short and choppy. He actually had quite a good grasp on language for a child so young. But from his words, Harry knew that no one cared- except Bella. That confused Severus, because he had known Bellatrix for years and would have never pegged her as kind, or caring, or even mildly maternal.
Perhaps he had been wrong.
The matter at hand, however, was that Harry's bright green eyes were open. Severus stayed completely still as he watched the child try to adjust to the different light; he knew that in Azkaban there was no light, and that would have been quite a change. Without a word, magic flew out from Severus and dimmed the lights. Harry seemed to almost come to in that moment, and the simple words that were whispered shook Severus to the core. Its quiet desperation and pleading was so timid and frail that it pulled at Severus's heartstrings. Those simple words were the last thing he was expecting.
"Bella? Am I dead?"
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I'm not a big fan of this chapter, it's rather short, but please review all the same. I can't decide whether to make Harry bond further with Bella, or to develop a strong mentor-ish relationship with Voldemort. Or both! Please give me your opinions ;]]