Re-Edited and Re-Posted on December 18, 2012.
Author: HatefulRodeo
Story: Harbinger
Notes: Harry's POV for this chapter. Enjoy Lovelies!
Disclaimer: I own nothing and I make absolutely no money from this fic. J.K.R. owns all rights to Harry Potter. *Sniffles*
Previously:
Sighing, the man pushed those thoughts away; Harry's misconceptions and delusions would have to be remedied in the very near future. The boy needed to know what the Dark Lord and his side were truly working toward, what their real goals were and how they went about achieving them.
Resigning himself to reading and completing more paperwork, but looking forward to explaining his side to Harry tomorrow, Voldemort sat in the comfortable chair behind his large desk and began reviewing the reports submitted by his spies. Merlin couldn't Dumbledore just keel over and just be done with it! That would make things so much easier for them all. If only life was that easy...
~~~~~~~~*********Chapter 4********~~~~~~~~
He felt good; better than he had in a month. It was amazing what actually being able to rest and eat could do for his body. Physically he was rebounding; his injuries were healing well according to the little elf attending him. His ribs though would take a little more time to heal completely.
At this point gaining weight and muscle was what he needed to do the most. Yes, he had muscles but they were weak from his continued starvation. However, the biggest change was to his mental state. Just having a safe place to relax and recuperate was doing wonders for his fragile mind.
That he felt safe enough in Malfoy Manor with the Dark Lord down the hall was still slightly unbelievable to him. Yes, he had hoped to be accepted by Voldemort but he never dreamed that the snakelike man would give a damn about him past his not dropping dead.
He really shouldn't judge the man, all the information he had ever received about the Dark Lord was from biased sources. Maybe from this point he should enter this situation with an open mind, stop living his life on and basing his decisions on faulty information.
The meeting that had just taken place between them was enough to blow his mind. Harry thought the Dark Lord wouldn't give a damn about his wellbeing or if he would have any problems with committing murder. It seemed to him that maybe the Dark Lord cared for him even just a little bit.
That thought made his heart warm, someone cared for him! That it was his once sworn enemy was completely irrelevant at this point. He would try his best to not disappoint the man who had helped him more than anyone ever had.
Don't get him wrong Madam Pomfrey had healed and cared him in the past but that was her job. Molly Weasely and Hermione were on Dumbeldore's payroll so they didn't count. But Voldemort didn't have to do any of what he did and that was why it meant so much to the Gryffindor.
He knew he was probably over exaggerating the Dark Lord's gesture of care. Voldemort probably had his own motives for ensuring he survived. The green eyed teen could never forget he was an important pawn to both sides of the war.
Now that the White Knight had crossed over to join the Black King he had strengthened the Dark's position and probably assisted him in winning the war. He was just waiting to see what Voldemort would want from him aside from the oath. Slytherins were always the quid pro quo sort and he would be daft if he thought that the Dark Lord didn't want anything in exchange for his kindness.
Sighing lightly he pushed his swirling thoughts down with his Occlumency shields; funny that now that it didn't matter he could manage Occlumency just fine. That was the story of Harry's life though, always too little too late.
He needed to decide if he was capable of doing what Voldemort would need him to do if he chose to join the Death Eaters for real. He knew he could inflict serious bodily harm to his former friends in battle, as for torture he didn't think he would have a problem. If anything he would be showing them what he had endured for years at the hands of his family.
That thought gave him a feeling of sadistic satisfaction as he imagined their screams of mercy; never would he actually heed them. Why should he? No one had ever listened to his pleas of mercy, his screams of agony as he begged for the pain to stop. No, his former friends and mentors would deserve everything he gave them.
As for the rest of the sheep on the Light side they didn't deserve his kindness or pity; they choose to be blind and follow that manipulative old fool. True, maybe a few were merely clueless and truly believed what they were fighting for but many had known what Harry endured and they would be shown no mercy once he found out who they were.
Collecting his thoughts he went though what he was alright with. Harry was okay with dueling his former allies, just fine with torturing them if he needed to but what about killing them? He believed he could do it if it was unavoidable; either his life or theirs but in cold blood he didn't think he ever could do that.
Shifting in the squishy armchair as he luxuriated in the heat pouring off the fire he allowed his thoughts to wander. Imagining himself confronting Dumbledore; casting the Avada Kadavra, the blinding flash of green light hitting Dumbledore in his chest as the manipulative old bastard fell. How would he feel if that were to really happen?
The answer somewhat shocked him but he accepted it; he would feel vindicated, like his insatiable thirst for revenge was finally sated. But could he judge casting the killing curse on Dumbledore as killing in cold blood?
He didn't think he could consider it as coldblooded murder as he had so much hate and loathing for his former mentor. Killing Dumbledore would feel satisfying in the most primeval of ways; satiating a dark need that lived deep inside every person's soul, the need to inflict pain onto those who have wronged or harmed us irreparably.
The Headmaster had knowingly, without a second thought, allowed Harry to be subjected to hate and neglect since he was one year old. He had thought about it many times and he couldn't believe his parents would have wanted him to go to his aunt and uncle.
His mother must have had a very good picture of what his life would be like under his relative's care. So why was he left there in the first place? He never had the courage to ask.
He stopped asking questions after his first year at Hogwarts when he started to feel like Dumbledore was trying to skirt the issues or answer in placating drivel meant to make him feel better but guilty at the same time. But the final nail in the coffin in terms of his undying faith in Dumbledore came at the end of his first year.
He had made pleaded with the Headmaster while he was in the hospital wing after his encounter with Voldemort, begging him not to send him back to the Dursley's house. The old man just smiled that damn smile and told him it couldn't be all that bad. That his aunt and uncle were just strict and had his best interests at heart.
Now he could see the situation for what it was; Dumbledore wanted Harry beaten down and submissive. Wanted him to crave affection and attention so much that when the Headmaster extended his hand in that Grandfatherly way Harry wouldn't think twice about taking it. The naive fool he had been at that time had grasped onto that hand, and put his faith in a man he now knew to be corrupt.
He needed to stop these thoughts now! It wasn't his fault that he was so deprived for affection that he latched onto the first kind adults and children he had met when he joined the wizarding world.
First it was Hagrid; the friendly Slytherin despising and anything Dark hating half-giant. Hagrid had spouted Dumbledore's praises, firmly planting the seeds in Harry's young mind for when he made it to Hogwarts and met the Headmaster. By that time he would have already been a firm believer of the elderly man's benevolence.
It had worked too as had the old bastard's setup for him to befriend Ronald Weasely. Hermione was brought into the old man's machinations after second year. God he was so blind even when he was opening his eye's to Dumbledore's manipulations he was still blind to what his so called friends were doing to him.
All their help, their suggestions and subtle hints, had been well orchestrated plans given to them by the Headmaster to lead Harry down the correct path. That the path they were leading him on had almost caused his death multiple times was ignored as unimportant.
After all what good was a weapon if it didn't perform when it was needed? He felt the familiar anger boiling in him; so many lies, so much taken from him! For what?! NOTHING AT ALL! He had lost his parents, his godfather; what else was left for him now? The answer was simple for him. He had nothing else to lose now and that made him very dangerous.
He would make them see what they had turned him into, what they had twisted his heart and soul to become. He would revel in the terror in their eyes as he inflicted every harm that had ever been brought onto him. The cruel laughter burst from him once more as his magic reacted, swirling violently throughout the nicely appointed room.
It was the popping noise of his elf caretaker that broke him out of his descent into mania. "Is the young master being okay?" He looked at the timid creature and couldn't help but smile at the concern in those bulbous brown eyes. "I am fine Tempy. Thank you for asking." Tempy nodded before popping out. The elf didn't look convinced but knew not to push his luck with asking his young master if he was alright again.
Now that his mind and magic were somewhat settled, though he could still feel the ripples of rage and pain coursing through him, Harry took a deep breath and went back to his original line of thought; could he kill an innocent being? Innocent in terms of a child or someone who had done nothing to deserve his ire?
The answer was clear to him. No, he could never hurt an innocent, after all isn't that what his relatives had done to him? He couldn't bring himself to fall that far because if he ever allowed himself he knew wouldn't be able to pull himself back from the darkness that had begun to grow in his very mind, heart and soul.
He didn't want to become a murderer; there was a big difference between a murderer and a killer. Murder was a coldblooded generally premeditated act. Killing someone was generally in self-defense or justified in some way. Harry could deal with killing but not outright murder.
Well he had his answer for the Dark Lord didn't he. He felt a bit disappointed that he couldn't do what Voldemort wanted him to but he wouldn't bend to the whims of others any longer. The emerald eyed teen would do what he was comfortable doing and if the Dark Lord, or others, were pleased with his actions Harry would enjoy the satisfaction of doing a job well done.
Even through the slight disappointment he was feeling the ex-Gryffindor felt lighter inside. He had just made a another choice for himself again and it felt good, better than good, it felt great! Finally he was living his life for himself; yes he had sworn his loyalty to the Dark Lord but he wouldn't be forced to do anything more than that.
It was an odd unknown feeling of freedom; he let it bubble within his chest while smiling like a loon. His life wasn't perfect yet, but it was getting better and for that he was thankful. Rising from his chair he made it back to the queen sized soft bed and laid down under the thick blankets.
Feeling sleep creeping into his tired body one fleeting thought crept into his mind; tomorrow he would tell the Dark Lord the entirety of the prophecy.
Well folks that is Chapter Four. I hope you enjoyed my slightly dark but still light Harry. : )
All Mistakes Are My Own!
