Hello lovelies! So, as scheduled, here's the next chapter! Thank you so much for all the reviews, you really keep me going :) Some comments on the chapter itself are in the AN below.

Enjoy!

Chapter five: Death Eater

A familiar and pleasant hooting woke Harry from confusing dreams of long corridors and dark doors. For a moment after he opened his eyes, he wondered why his bedroom looked so strange until he recalled where exactly he was. The next moment he shot up and stared with a growing sense of relief at his familiar, who sat on the windowsill and seemed to hoot her lungs out to reach him through the glass. Rushing to the dirty window, Harry tried his best to let her in, the hinges rusted shut over the years, only giving way at an excessive use of force the teen didn't even know he possessed. It had been two days since he'd sent the letter, two more days of taking care of Voldemort and hovering between wanting the man to get better so it would be over and hoping he'd never recover to not have to become a murderer.

Hedwig was more cuddly than usual. He'd expected her to be miffed at him since he'd left her behind, but she looked better fed than expected, perhaps the Dursleys had offered her some food after all, if only to get her to stop screeching them awake at night. There was no letter from them in sight. Perhaps they hadn't even thought of the idea to send a reply back the 'freak' way, and he hadn't provided them with a snail mail address either. Was Hedwig showing up here, their way of saying they accepted his deal without further complications or consequences? He could only hope, and would find out soon enough.

He brought the snowy owl inside, glad that Nagini wasn't in the room right now. That gave him some time to still explain to the snake that Hedwig wasn't a snack. He turned around to find Voldemort's red eyes following his movements. Harry shivered lightly, in the past days having become unsure of how much the other was aware of his surroundings. He'd stopped his feverish babbling about Regulus, but still slept a lot and tried to get close to Nagini whenever possible. Harry had not anticipated that it might be hard to actually find out the exact moment Voldemort wasn't ill anymore...

To have something to do, he asked Hedwig to stay in the room and went to search out Nagini, who turned out to be in the garden, sunbathing, a lump in her body showing that she had swallowed something that was at least the size of a cat. Harry sincerely hoped that it wasn't actually a cat, and for the sanity of his own mind tried to think of possible ways for geese or large hares to have ended up in the garden and not be fast enough to get away from the lunging snake. He was splendidly unsuccessful. On a positive note, now she certainly wouldn't want to munch on Hedwig for the remainder of his stay.

~You left master's side?~ the serpent hissed in displeasure.

~My owl arrived and is watching over him, she's very intelligent and won't let anything happen to him, I promise. I just wanted to notify you before you try to chase her away.~

~Birds cannot be trusted,~ she replied. ~Foolish human, go back to him. Apparently she didn't fully trust Harry to follow her order correctly, since she followed him in, although she was slower than usual while still digesting the bump that Harry tried to not make eye-contact with. He could swear that it was still moving and wished desperately to return to duller days that weren't filled with trying to tiptoe around a giant venomous snake. He failed when instantly memories came to mind of trying to escape from giant spiders, a basilisk, a werewolf, Voldemort, Devil's snare, Fluffy, Dementors, and Snape. Which one on that list was the worst out of them, he couldn't decide, but Snape was definitely in the top three. His life, even -or especially- his school life, wasn't nearly as dull as he'd hoped it to be, with maybe the occasional teenage drama instead of hungry monsters ready to chase him.

''How do I always get into these messes,'' he groaned, shutting up the part of his mind that said 'by snooping around into things that aren't your business'. Distressed hooting sounded from upstairs, and Harry suddenly took two steps at once when he recognised the sound as a panicked Hedwig. What had happened? Had Voldemort awoken? He nearly crashed through the door, halting at seeing a blond, unfamiliar man kneeling in front of the couch Voldemort lay on. Scrutinising eyes fell upon him, and he was very aware of the man's drawn wand that was now pointed at Harry's chest.

''Who are you?'' he demanded in a much braver tone than he felt. He didn't think it was a brilliant idea to show that he was just about ready to puke up his breakfast from the sprint upstairs he just did and the very real fears of either dying instantly, or after this man and possibly Voldemort finding out who he really was.

''My name is Barty,'' the other said, slowly standing up, wand lowering, and Harry realised that the others' gaze had shifted to Nagini, who coiled at Harry's feet. ''I am my Lord's most devoted follower.''

Well shit, was Harry intelligent thought.

''How did you find us?'' he asked instead, gesturing for Nagini to go in front of him, both to show the man that he had some power and to have her act as a shield in case spells would be fired.

''Wormtail found me a while ago with a message from the Dark Lord. He gave me a charm prepared by our Lord that would slowly lift the Imperius curse placed upon me by my insane father. I was able to finally break out completely today and followed Wormtails' instructions. I read in the Prophet that he'd been captured, but there was no word about the Dark Lord himself so... I figured he could use some truly loyal followers instead of that wanna-be bunch of snobs who caused such a ruckus last night at the World cup.''

Somehow, Harry had completely forgotten about the fact that the Quidditch world cup was to be held and cursed himself for missing it, although he knew that that was an absurd thought to have now he had more important matters at hand. The rest of Barty's story flew a bit past him as he had no idea about what this supposed Imperius curse was or which snobs the man was talking about.

''I'm not exactly up to date, I've been taking care of our Lord,'' Harry shortly answered. ''Do you have some papers? I can't exactly have the Prophet delivered to this location.''

~What is going on Harrison?~ Nagini hissed in distress. ~Is he dangerous or not?~ Figuring that he was unable to hide his Parseltongue abilities around someone who seemed to want to stick around, when Nagini tried to constantly have conversations, Harry quickly hissed at her that everything was okay. He saw with slight satisfaction that Barty's jaw hung slack when he finished.

''You... you speak... like the Dark Lord!'' a revering tone had entered the man's voice and blue eyes bulged out of their sockets. ''Who are you?''

Harry's mind reeled. He didn't have to give this man the same alias he'd given Nagini. Harrison Black was a stupid name to give to anyone who had any knowledge about Wizarding families considering that the only Black still alive was Sirius. That he could fool a snake with that didn't mean he should risk it with a human follower, even if that would in the end mean that he might get in trouble if Nagini would refer to him by a different name than Barty would in front of Voldemort. Not knowing what else to do, he came up with the first name that shot through his head that wasn't connected to any prominent wizards: ''Evan Prewett,'' he said, remembering that Ron's mom had been a Prewett and hoping that it would both make him pass for a Pureblood wizard and not give Barty much to work with since, just like the Weasley family, they were a vast and predominantly Light family.

''Aren't those blood-traitors?'' the other answered hesitantly. ''How come you have Slytherin's gift?''

''I do not know from whom I received the... gift, I never knew who my mother was. And not everyone in a family is the same... Didn't you say something about your father?'' Harry found he'd hit a nerve when Barty's face clouded instantly.

''Got a point there,'' the blond mumbled. ''Sorry. So you are in Slytherin then? You look as if you're still at Hogwarts.''

''Yeah,'' Harry vaguely answered on both questions at once. ''I'm glad to be in Slytherin, we have the best common room with the underwater view,'' he added to instantly make his story more believable, for once having to thank Malfoy for being such a suspicious little git that he and Ron had had to investigate him two years ago.

''I wouldn't know, I was in Ravenclaw,'' Barty said bluntly, making Harry's eyes twitch. ''Not sure if that was a good thing or not, I would have liked to be in Slytherin of course but... then again, most Death Eaters who came from there put their own arse over loyalty and betrayed our Lord... no offense to you.''

''None taken,'' Harry sighed. ''I understand what you mean. I don't think it is very dependent on house though, look at Pettigrew. He only returned because he was afraid and had nowhere else to go and he was a Gryffindor. Perhaps the whole house division matters at Hogwarts, but everyone is different and at eleven I think it's hard to judge how a person will turn out to be in later life.'' The words surprised even himself but Harry stood by them. Even the Sorting hat hadn't been able to decide between Slytherin and Gryffindor for him, and those were supposed to be opposite houses. While he loved his Gryffindor 'family', it would be childish to think everyone of them would turn out to become a good person, Wormtail was living proof of that, and Harry always suspected that Dumbledore also had some dark secrets than he didn't let anyone know about, with the way he avoided answering straight questions.

''Maybe, you're smarter than you look, Evan. Can I call you Evan? It would be weird to call you Prewett when I have no intention of giving you my surname.''

''Sure thing,'' Harry shrugged, answered by a wide grin of Barty.

A long hiss sounded from the couch, and both men froze on the spot before Barty rushed towards Voldemort and Harry shot out towards the kitchen, knowing the impatient sound to belong to a hungry Voldemort. ''Going to make breakfast!'' he shouted over his shoulder to not let the other get any strange ideas as to why he disappeared. Once alone, he leaned heavy against the wall and tugged at his hair in frustration. Of course he should have counted on other followers turning up besides Pettigrew. Voldemort hadn't exactly been inactive after all. The question now, was whether to withdraw or to see this through despite complications.

Reluctantly, Harry admitted to himself that he really did not want to retreat, not after getting this far, not after spending days of washing and feeding the embryo-like man. To pull back now would make all that effort go to waste and still not bring any results. That was always the strange thing about his feelings: with all of his heart, he didn't want to do this. He wanted to fly to Hogwarts, curl up in his dorm bed and never think of Voldemort again. To escape from reality and the unfriendly world he'd been forced into. But then his brain fired back with worries about his friends and a stubbornness to not let other people handle this, because they couldn't be trusted with it. He'd seen how far trusting adults had brought him even in the Wizarding world: Snape hadn't been able to stop Quirrel in time, none of the teachers had been able to prevent the Basilisk from destroying the school, even Dumbledore had left freeing Sirius to him and Hermione. If he left now and just informed the Aurors, there was no telling what would happen.

Then again, there was no telling of the results either with him staying here under not only the watchful eye of Nagini, but Barty as well, self-proclaimed most loyal Death Eater... Harry once more banged his head against the wall before pushing all of his thoughts away and focusing on breakfast -which he'd become remarkably good at ever since he was four years old and had started to take care of the Dursleys' household-. Fifteen minutes later, he had three plates of toast, sausage and egg. Perhaps Barty would be less suspicious of him if he made food, that had always worked wonders to keep his family from getting angry...

Slightly nervous, Harry returned upstairs, juggling all plates plus some meat for Hedwig in a bowl. It would be better to feed her himself than make the villagers suspicious by having a snowy owl flying around. Barty sat on the floor, staring with obvious devotion and fascination at Voldemort. Good, that meant Harry would have to take less care of the Dark Lord.

''What is wrong with our Lord?'' the man asked as soon as Harry stepped in. ''He looks so...'' the man trailed off.

''It's a lot better already since I found him,'' the teen said defensively, not entirely sure why he felt personally attacked. ''He needs potions to survive and couldn't take them since Wormtail was caught. He can't really move himself in that body and even magic cannot brew a complicated potion from another room or summon it through a closed wall without risk of explosion.'' It may not be the brightest idea to tell Barty what Voldemort needed to survive, but he had to have the other man's trust and come across as a credible follower. Hiding this information could bite him back in time. It should only be a few more days until the Dark Lord would be helpless no longer, dangerous enough for Harry to fully consider him an enemy once more. He walked around to sit next to Voldemort on the couch and handed Barty a plate, who gave him an odd look. ''I need to feed him,'' the teen explained.

''That's not... never mind,'' Barty muttered. ''That food for the owl or the snake?'' he gestured vaguely to the bowl of raw meat that Harry had tried to hold at an arm's length to not let it come into contact with the rest of the food.

''Owl, try to feed it gently to her, she doesn't like it when given in a hurry.''

''Her?'' Barty questioned, raising an eyebrow. ''You're not very good with animals are you?''

''What are you talking about?''

''It's the middle of summer. That's a snowy owl. Put two and two together?'' At Harry's incomprehensive look, Barty rolled his eyes. ''Female snowy owls turn brown in summer, that is a male one. Not that it matters too much I suppose. They don't behave incredibly different. I would have thought that anyone from a Wizarding family would have at least basic knowledge about owls...''He grimaced slightly. ''And not be walking around balancing plates like a professional house-elf.'' The accusation kept hanging in the air as Harry refused to answer and shoved food in Voldemort's mouth, perhaps a bit too forcefully.

''Despite being a Prewett, I grew up with Muggles,'' he finally bit out, cursing himself for such basic mistakes, and still surprised at the revelation about Hedwig. He debated for a second whether to try and change her name, then discarded that as ridiculous. As if owls cared whether the names their owners called them by were assigned a specific gender.

''Not going to elaborate on that?'' Barty asked after a few minutes of silent eating. ''That horrible?''

''Sorry if I do not trust a random stranger within the first hour of meeting with my life's story,'' Harry dryly remarked. ''I'm hardly asking about your family.''

''At least I'm not obviously lying about it,'' the other stated. ''Better to say nothing at all when you're trying to hide something. Fine, I won't pry, but try to come up with a better story than being a Prewett, Evan. The male line died out over two decades ago. Being part of the sacred twenty-eight, any Pureblood knows that only the female line survived, and married into the Weasleys of all people.'' Harry tried not to react to the disgusted tone with which Barty spoke of his best friend's family. It was more difficult than he'd thought. Visions of the homely burrow, Molly Weasley's crushing hugs and Arthur's earnest work and almost childish excitement for Muggles nearly had him in tears. The thought that anyone could have negative thoughts about such a pure-hearted family was unbearable.

He finished his own food after feeding Voldemort, watching with amusement as Barty tried to get Hedwig to eat, who kept snapping at his fingers instead. ''You'll get the hang of it eventually,'' he replied with cold amusement. ''Perhaps you're just not very good with animals.'' Feeling both petty and triumphant, Harry further ignored Barty, took the plates down, washes the dishes and steamed in a thousand unspoken insults to Barty.

When he finally returned to take Voldemort to the bathroom, Barty was lying rather ungracefully on his belly in front of the fireplace, reading a book. ''Don't you have things to do?'' Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

In a reply, Barty raised the book higher, which had Harry squinting through his dirty glasses to read the title. He hated that he couldn't clean his spectacles. They once more had a star in them as Dudley had seen it fit to punch him in the face again this summer and he couldn't use magic to repair them. Touching the glass too much might just make it fall out for good. As a result, he had to get much closer before he could make out the golden letters 'A handbook to animate protection'.

''We may be in a remote Muggle town, but it's still a bad idea to sit here without any wards or guard. That snake might scare the Muggles to death, it isn't really effective in keeping them out if anyone really wants to break in. I don't want to end up with missing people and investigations here. Thus, I thought I might try my hand at creating some charmed golems.''

''Sounds interesting. Wish I knew magic like that. Can't exactly use it now though...'' Harry's wand sat on the mantelpiece to avoid him automatically grabbing it in need and triggering the Trace. If necessary, he could use magic to defeat Voldemort. Before that moment arrived, he couldn't risk anything.

''Right now, neither can I,'' Barty sighed. ''Not very well anyways, not on this level. I mean, I normally can, it's just that I haven't found any fitting wands yet. Nicked this one off a drunk witch in Knockturn alley,'' he waved a dark brown wand with white specks. ''It's decent for basic spells, that's all. Would maybe snag your wand if it didn't have the Trace on it still,'' Barty grinned, then stilled in thought and snapped his book shut. ''Here,'' A second later, Harry found himself holding the stolen wand.

''I just said I still have the...'' he began, which Barty waved away.

''Don't be silly. The Trace is a combination of spells which work only when certain events are not triggered. Firstly, there is a trace on your wand, then one on your house and lastly one on you.''

''How does that work?'' Harry asked, curious.

''If you use your own wand and it still has a trace, the spell is triggered, but blocked if certain circumstances are met: if magic is being performed in your house and it is not odd for that to happen, like if your family is magical; or if you are in a place where you are allowed to perform magic such as Hogwarts. If you cast spells without a traced wand, the trace on yourself is activated, which is stopped if there are any adult wizards or witches around who could have performed the spell. It's the easiest trace to circumvent to be honest, only there to discover children with accidental magic in the Muggle world, really, and has many loopholes. There have to be, since using the floo or Portkeys is also registered as using magic, technically, and they cannot have the ministry blowing up whenever parents use the floo with their kids from a place that isn't their house. So short summary, there are three trace spells that can cancel each other out and all have different requirements for activating. You using a wand that is not traced, in the vicinity of an adult without the trace, would not activate your own trace.''

''Sounds complicated. What about other people performing magic around me and it registering as me?'' Harry asked. ''There was once a house-elf who used magic at my place and I got blamed for it...''

''House-elves are not counted as adult magicians,'' Barty shrugged. ''If it was your house, and no magicians lived in it, the trace for yourself and your wand do not activate at all, but the one on your house does after not finding any non-traced witches or wizards. Who else could have performed magic there, after all? That is what the Ministry thinks at least.''

''This makes my head hurt,'' Harry said. ''I got the gist of it, I guess. As long as you are here, and I use this wand, it should be safe? Why me though?''

''While the wand works decently for me, it seems to have a different affinity. If it suits you better, it would be stupid to not have you do the casting. I can instruct you. Lack of experience and perhaps power might be a problem but... worth a shot.'' Barty shrugged and went back to reading his book. Hesitantly, Harry rose the wand and cast the first spell he could think of:

''Incendio!'' he exclaimed, pointing at the fireplace. It would be great not to burn his hands with matches anymore.

Loud pangs sounded and Barty yelped and scrambled away as a log exploded and a shower of sparks rained down on the rug. ''Oh shit!,'' Harry yelled, his mind blanking out as he tried to recall the counter spell. Barty ripped the wand from his grip and doused the now smoking rug with water, all the while laughing hysterically.

''Your face!,'' the man nickered. ''Merlin's balls, that was hilarious. How'd you figure it was a brilliant idea to test the functionality of this wand with summoning fire of all things? Your brain-'' Barty doubled over, catching deep gulps of air in between his words, ''Your- brain- must- hah- look- like- a- flobberworm!''

''Then do it yourself!'' Harry shouted, throwing the wand at Barty, red in the face with embarrassment, wanting to crawl away, annoyed when tears of humiliation formed in the corners of his eyes.

''Oh... shit kid, I didn't mean...'' the other suddenly quieted down but it was already too late: Harry had stormed out of the room, not caring for apologies. Something squeezed in his chest as all the nasty words from his aunt and uncle came back, questioning his intelligence, his usefulness, his right to live. Another voice made itself known in his mind that sounded suspiciously like Snape, haughty and intent on shaming him even further.

Just like his arrogant father, useless, always on an undeserved high horse-

Not even Nagini's hissing erased his red vision. He needed to get out of here, get fresh air, he wanted...

Pain exploded in his scar, replacing his anger with agony as he fell to his knees and pressed both hands to his stern. It went as fast as it had come. Harry's limbs shook, knowing that Voldemort was not pleased with his onslaught of emotions. He'd known they connected somehow, but never had he had such strong evidence as the blood running down his face now. He only barely managed to wipe it away before footsteps sounded behind him.

''I'm sorry,'' Barty muttered. ''I shouldn't have said that.'' Not wanting to be humiliated further, Harry tried his best to get up without help. ''You want to talk?'' Looking over his shoulder, Harry eyed the man suspiciously, trying to gauge the sincerity in that offer. He'd confided before in adults who had offered help, only to find out that they'd only asked out of obligation and did not actually want to listen to sob stories. He saw genuine concern in Barty's eyes, which was disconcerting considering the fact that this might mean a Death Eater showed more honest compassion for a stranger than a primary school teacher for their students.

''I... don't know,'' he spoke, slightly hindered by the fact that he'd bit his tongue to not scream out before and it, too, was bleeding now. He hadn't spoken about the Dursleys since asking Dumbledore if he could stay at Hogwarts for summer and the man had outright refused for his 'protection'. He hadn't even told Ron much, who obviously knew something was going on ever since he and the Twins had broken Harry out of his barred room. He just felt like it was too personal, and not anyone else's burden to bear but his own. Also, many people were bound to have it much worse.

''Come on, let's make one of the rooms downstairs here a bit more liveable so we can sit down and have a chat.''

''The Dark Lord...''

''Is being looked after by a very protective snake who will not let me in his vicinity without you around. She seems fond of you. Well, you can talk to her, that maybe makes a difference.''

''You think?'' Harry replied. ''I still have the feeling she will eat me at so much as a wrong glance.'' Nonetheless, he followed the other into one of the uninhabited rooms he'd left covered in sheets. With a few wand movements, the furnishing was revealed and cleaned up, instantly transforming the room into an elaborate dining room.

''The people here didn't exactly like cosiness did they?'' Barty grumbled, looking at the polished wood with a scrunched nose. ''Looks like something my father would feel comfortable in. Whose house was this anyways?'' Harry refrained from answering that, not thinking it was a good idea to reveal that he knew anything of Voldemort's past, or even worse: to have Barty realise that he followed a half-blood, as amusing as that thought may be. The both of them plopped down on one of the rather rigid chairs. Harry ignored the small iron studs in the hard leather 'cushioning' wonderfully, dealing with worse every time he played Quidditch. Barty also didn't appear too bothered.

''Look, I was a bit too harsh back there kid. I forgot that not everybody is as tough as Azkaban inmates.'' Finding that to be a rather odd figure of speech, Harry hesitated, not entirely sure whether that was meant literally or not. Picking up on the hint, the man continued with a small laugh. ''I often listened to the angry rants of the other prisoners back when I did my time for a year or so. It always lifted my spirits to insult them and invoke a reaction, just to make sure they would find some of their energy back, even if only for the duration of their rant. I learnt a lot about humans in my isolated cell, surprisingly. What types of people exist and how much they can take, mainly. How to use their goals, fears and wishes to either lift their mood or break them even without Dementors around.''

''Did you ever break someone like that?'' Harry asked warily.

''Yeah. Not all criminals in there are Death Eaters, you know. Not all of them adhere by the same codes as we had to abide by. For a while, there were two people in the cells opposite mine. A man and a woman, both charged for 'sexual misconduct'. Just a fancy word for.. well, I'm sure I don't need to get into detail.'' Harry was rather astonished that the man would spare him any details. From the short time they'd spent together now, he'd figured that Barty wasn't one to mince matters. ''I drove the both of them insane,'' the other said, a reminiscent smile on his face. ''Tore them mentally to shreds once I figured out their weaknesses, their insecurities. I enjoyed every moment of that. Now those people were really... evil.''

''Doesn't evil depend on point of view? To you, their crimes may have been unforgivable, to many others murder is worse, and we both serve one who murdered plenty. Also, sexual abuse is meant to make the victim feel helpless, to torture them mentally and emotionally. One could see it as just another form of torture, not better or worse than any other form of it. As I recall, Dementors also torment one emotionally and mentally, and I heard that torture was common in the first Wizarding war too.''

''You're right, everyone has different morals and views on what is crosses the line to evil,'' Barty spoke slowly, balancing his chair on the back legs, knees propped against the side of the table. ''Everyone has to have some though, and I stand by mine. Laws may reflect the average morals of its country's people, each person will either think them too radical or not radical enough, all weighing crimes with their own personal experiences in mind. I think that sex is the lowest type of torture that can be used, and I know that the Dark Lord wholeheartedly agrees to that, which is also why it was forbidden from usage by him. Slow Muggle torture too, it is just... messy and unnecessary. The Cruciatus curse may do the same but... it feels different, one can recover from it far easier when not used for too long. The pain does not leave nearly as much emotional trauma as any other form of pain, and we had to get information somehow.''

He grimaced, then. ''Although I admit that it was overused by some, to the point of where I also could not condone it anymore. Why torture someone to insanity when you know they are not going to give anything up? I would have killed them... no-one listened... Bellatrix only wanted...'' his voice trailed off and his eyes were glassy as if lost in a deep memory. ''That's neither here nor there,'' he spoke at last, looking bright again and letting his chair fall back on its front legs with a loud bang that shook the rickety wooden floors. ''I didn't only learn to manipulate people in bad ways. Human contact helped me stay sane in that pit, so I often acted as a sort of... therapist for any around me who wanted to have a listening ear. Never helped much, or long, but I got the occasional thanks and it made me feel better. So, what's your story?

''I thought you promised not to pry into my past?'' Harry darkly said.

''Not in your family.'' Barty corrected him. ''You don't need to call anyone by name, but whoever raised you sure gave you issues, I can tell that from a mile away. Brooding, using sarcasm as a shield, defensive stance at any hint of critique to hide how much it hits you inside.'' It hit hard now too, and Harry lowered his eyes, suddenly fascinated with a spot on the table, a waxy fingerprint that must have been from the residents here at least fifty years ago. Voldemort's family? Or even further back? When he couldn't find any excuse to stare at it even longer, Barty not having gotten impatient at all, Harry slowly looked up. The man had resumed his previous position again, arms hanging off the back of the chair, which was tilted so the blond man could look at the ceiling.

''I went through some issues with my... caretakers,'' Harry finally managed to say. ''I don't think it was very bad though,'' he added instantly. ''Just a bit of bullying, having to do chores and getting punished more often than.. than the other kid in the house.'' Barty didn't look up, still waiting. Harry didn't really know why he was telling this to a Death Eater, who could maybe use it all against him after figuring out his identity. However, there was something comforting about having someone non-judgemental listen, someone who didn't look like he would either tear up like Hermione, give an awkward pat on the shoulder like Ron, or dismiss it like Dumbledore. Maybe Barty didn't care much. That was fine, then Harry also wouldn't hurt anyone by telling this.

''I think I was mainly jealous,'' he continued. ''Of always being treated like I came last in that house. That my problems didn't matter and were all my own fault anyways. I couldn't ask questions about who I was or where I came from, if I did I was being too nosy and got punished. I was just so curious about my parents that I couldn't help but keep nagging until they got fed up and threw me back in my cupboard-''

''Your cupboard?'' the tone was neutral, which was a relief, since that meant Harry didn't have to get defensive.

''Yeah, that is where I slept. It was a bit small, true, and dusty with spiders and such, but it gave me a place to escape to. I didn't have to sleep next to Du-to the other kid. I moved upstairs a few years ago after all though,'' he bit his lip. ''To the third bedroom, which was full of his.. -let's just call him D-, of D's broken toys. As I thought, it made it worse since I had to interact with them all more often that way and it was even harder to sneakily break the locks to get food from the kitchen at night.''

''Why did you steal food?'' the man asked, not commenting on any of the rest.

''Well, I wouldn't really... get much,'' Harry admitted, struggling. ''I can understand why, I was the smallest in the house and didn't need as much,'' he felt his walls rising up again and took a deep breath to calm his thoughts. Barty was only listening, nothing else. ''I also messed up on some of my chores so they sometimes didn't give me food so I'd do better next time.''

''When did you start doing chores?''

''Err, when I was four, I think. It started out with just dusting things I could reach... then weeding the garden, doing laundry, eventually cooking... the only thing I didn't do was clean up any of the bedrooms, I was never allowed in there. Oh, and running errands, they didn't want me to be seen outside very much unless it was to tend to the garden.''

''Oh?'' Barty spurred him on.

''Well, they all thought I was crazy, you see. The whole neighbourhood. My caretakers told them all that I was a child of criminals and drunks and that no-one should talk to me. When visitors came I also had to go back to my cupboard after finishing making the food. That was better, I think, so I wouldn't be stared at. I was only given D's old clothes and he is much bigger than me so... I looked awful.''

''Did they hit you?'' Harry licked his lips, nervous about answering. All of it sounded so... bad, when spoken out aloud.

''Sometimes,'' he admitted. ''Mostly by D, he and his buddies liked to gang up on me. The bullying I mentioned. The others didn't hurt me so frequently, only as punishment and usually just by hitting me with objects for educational purposes,'' he parroted his aunt.

Barty exhaled loudly. ''Shit kid,'' he repeated. It seemed to be a catchphrase of his and reminded Harry deeply of Sirius.

''It's not as bad as what other people dealt with,'' he mumbled.

''Did you ever tell anyone?''

''Yeah... my teachers. They listened to it and then handed me back to my caretakers since they couldn't do anything about it. One of my teachers warned me that the foster system was worse so then I stopped trying. At Hogwarts I was told that I had to live there for my own protection...'' he hung his head. ''I didn't want to worry my friends, but I guess they know to a degree. My best friend once broke me out of my room in the middle of the night,'' he smiled at the memory. ''Ripped the bars in front of my window out and pulled me out of my uncle's grip,'' he suddenly shut down, fearfully looking at Barty after his slip-up about 'bars' and 'uncle'.

''Do you want to get revenge on those Muggles?'' was the only thing the man said, in all seriousness.

''I... no,'' Harry shook his head. ''I just want to be away from them,'' he whispered. ''They're not completely bad people, just afraid of me, afraid of the world I belong to.''

''Child abusers don't deserve to live kid... but whatever, your decision. Personally, I'd gladly skin my dad alive and the only thing he did was put me in Azkaban after he found out I was a Death Eater. Mum talked him into getting me out a year after, so we swapped places. He's the reason she died there...''

''Shit,'' Harry echoed.

''Yeah... You know what though?'' he asked, and Harry replied with a hum. ''You cannot measure your own misery by the pain of other people. Others being hurt more doesn't mean that it was okay what your family did to you, or that you need to feel guilty over wanting to get away. I learnt a long time ago that every person has different pain, that comparing it is unfair. If we start with that, we may as well say that there must always be a person who has it worse on this earth. Assholes like your uncle are then free to use that attitude to get away with starving and beating a child for being different. It's not helping you, and it's also dangerous for future kids.''

''I...'' Harry struggled with his words.

''Let me put it this way. Would you be fine with any other child going through what you did?''

''No!'' Harry nearly shouted, eyes widening at only the thought. No child deserved to be treated as if they were better off not existing.

''There you have it then. Well, I'm going to check upstairs, don't want our Lord to think we neglect him, right? Are you coming along? You can try using the wand again, I promise I will behave better this time.'' Without waiting for him, the man left the room, leaving Harry to sit in his daze. He'd just spilled his whole childhood to a Death Eater... to a criminal who had sat in Azkaban and apparently didn't have much of a problem with killing and torturing others... and Harry had enjoyed the talk. No, that was maybe not the right word, reliving his time at the Dursley's wasn't enjoyable... it had been relieving to get it off his chest, knowing he was being seriously listened to without being scolded or coddled afterwards. Barty's words had hit home for sure.

''What am I going to do?'' Harry groaned, burying his head in his hands. He was a mess right now, in no shape to get rid of Voldemort, and he didn't want to drag Barty in it now the man had been so nice to him. Hell, he didn't even really want to hurt Nagini... the snake was unpredictable and creepy, but she was just an animal following the weird motherly instincts she had for Voldemort. This wasn't at all how he'd planned it...

So, I hope that you all liked it. Just wanted to mention something about Harry's childhood: I know that in many fanfics it is exaggerated what Harry goes through, but when reviewing the canon material, I honestly have to say that I did not find that very necessary. The Dursleys did plenty wrong without having to add any details, so I only used whatever the books say that they do to Harry.

On another note: I found some different sources on Barty's possible Hogwarts House. Canonically it isn't known though, so I put him in Ravenclaw based on both his character and the fact that he managed to get 12 OWL's at Hogwarts. Perhaps not the best way of picking, considering we all know that both Hermione and Voldemort got loads of OWL's, but for story purposes, I think it's better than having Barty be a Slytherin.

Please read and review! And yes, next chapter will be what many of you have been waiting for ;P The Dark Lord awakens...