I hate it.

Pain.

Pain hurts. Pain causes suffering. Pain is the enemy.

Hours and hours it would go on; this endless torture.

My left rib still stuck out. My muscles contracted and ached constantly. I could feel all the blood pump in and out of my body. I experienced the excruciating agony as scissors sliced through my skin, as needles pierce through my flesh.

Clear your mind.

And then it stops. Everything is numb. Nothing matters.

I am off to the cell again. And as usual they make no real progress. They are no closer to solving their problem than they were those many moons ago.

And they never will be.

I am given my ration, and as usual it's tasteless, tough, and chewy. I cultivate an indifference, but truly, even if they had prepared my favorite foods; the burning in my gut would not stop.

I wanted to vomit. My lips were parched and hunger growled in my stomach. I cracked open my eyes to better perceive the dull, rusting metal around me. Blackness continued to engulf me. A tremor of panic vibrated in my core, and even if I tell myself that this happens every time, it never makes it any better. I was blind, sightless, motionless, restrained. I was as good as dead, a lamb awaiting slaughter. Poultry breathing its last lungful before the bloodied knife would steal it forever more. That slight tremor increased in intensity until I physically shook in time with it.

And then I passed out.

Only to wake up and relive the same hell that was my life.


I needed to get out. I needed to break off. To be free of this pitiful existence.

I knew I could. The doctors were not like me. They didn't carry the gift. They were silly, silly children with the delusion of becoming something like me. I had seen it with my own eyes. I looked deep into their souls and I knew what they were.

I made the mistake of mentioning it years ago.

That was not a wise choice.


They had put me in a torture chamber. My wrists bound using herbs and potions from the books of my own kind. That knowledge is being used against me at this very moment.

Let me show you the tip of the iceberg, the entrance to hell. The first thing you will notice is the pungent smell of dead rotting flesh, from all of your fellow dead captives. The mounds of sanitation around you doesn't seem to help to get rid of the disgusting smell, in fact, it brings in additional smells: smells of acid, blood and rotting flesh from the surrounding area. These smells bring in feelings of anxiousness and nervousness as you know for a fact it will soon be your blood smeared across these grounds.

Men in white coats would come in, and beat you to a pulp in an attempt at discipline. But that was only stage one.

This time one of the men took me, and tied me beneath a slowly dripping, ice cold, leak.

drip...drip...drip…

Then kicked me repeatedly in the crotch with steel-toed boots.

They had to keep me guessing. That's the key. Stay unpredictable.

I was throwing up everywhere now. I knew I wouldn't get the fiber back. I knew I wouldn't make it.

And that's when they strike. That's when it all stopped. They would brew you potions, make you your favorite foods, give you a blanket to sleep for the night.

In exchange all you had to do was swear never to disobey ever again.


A year ago I would have shivered at that memory, but not anymore. My mind had contorted over time, twisting and turning until there was no trace left of the former Harry Potter. Only a grotesque and distorted variant. My body had thinned barring far too close to malnourishment for any of the actual doctors liking. Cruel experiments scared my midsection; the only thing stopping me from going insane here was… Nothing?

No.

It was hope. Hope that I could one day access the knowledge they keep hidden from me because they knew I could obliterate them with it.

There was some sort of safe in this place, and only they knew where. I was sure of it, I had seen it, and I would only need to find this place in order to escape. That safe was my key to freedom.

I hear the pull and thud of my cell door being opened; it was a routine inspection. The men come, make a mess of things, and then leave.

The men ruffled through my belongings; which admittedly wasn't many. I only had a single blanket in here anyways. They felt across the stone walls, attempting to find even a hint of an escape route. It was pointless of course. Everything in this room would be visible from miles away.

After a few failed attempts at uncovering something that didn't exist, the men eventually gave up. "Hier ist bisher nichts." One said.

"Einverstanden, nichts Wichtiges." Another answered.

Not this time.

As they went to leave I made my move.

"Wait" I whisper to one of the men, I grab him by the arm softly and then look into his eyes.

I delve into his mind. He's another squib. He's from a wealthy family, but that means nothing if they can't even look at you. Sad childhood. Never good enough for his magical relatives. He hated them, he hated them so much. His resentment grew with age. By the time he was 15 he ra-

Bingo.

I found his weak link. He was so depressed; so sad, that he ran away at 15, made a life for himself. He married, then had kids, and when offered to join a cause that would "Liberate all no magics" he joined without a second thought.

Now all I had to do was pore the same feelings back. It wasn't hard. I let all the emotion I used to feel back in. Just for a moment, until he's so weak that I can simply command.

Save me. Save me! Please, I'm just like you!

I yelled it at him. Indented it into my mind until I knew for sure when he looked at me, he wouldn't see a tall dark haired teenager with green eyes and pale skin.

Instead he would see a dark skinned, curly haired kid with brown eyes and a sad smile on his face.

"Komm Jakob, verlass ihn und komm zu uns."

He was ushered away with the rest of the men.

But I knew he would be back. He would take me to the safe, or room, or wherever could get me out of here.

Now all I had to do was wait.


The sun had set when he came. Later than I expected but I suppose volunteering for a night shift is convenient enough for people not to read too deep into it.

He unlocked the door with some form of ID card. He walked over to me slowly, as if I would be frightened of him.

"R-r-relax, I mean you nein harm" He said, or attempted to say, in broken english.

The man grabbed me gently by the face, opened my jaw, and slowly took out the rather futile device around my tongue. It was meant to stop me from using any spells, but it proved ineffective in many past outbursts of my accidental magic.

He took my arm in one hand and grabbed some sort of box out of his pocket. He placed the box in my hand; it was somewhat unremarkable, but I did feel a strange pull to it, if a minor one.

"Zat iss all I kan do I'm afraid" He spoke. I was about to tell him to just speak German, since I could understand it better than his English, but he carried on.

"I vould nefer be able to get you into ze r-r-room fur you to decide vhich ein you vanted, so I chust grabbed ze least nichticeable ein." He said sadly, still stumbling over his words.

"Danke," I responded. He nods his head, and seems to get a little confused for a second, before stumbling off back to his shift.

I immediately opened the box. It is as I expected; a wand. My fingers grasp the timber, my hand grips it tightly, and I feel the beauty of magic run through my veins. For the first time in my life I felt invincible. It was like there was nothing I could not do, and what I wanted to do was escape.

If I did not escape I would die trying. Nothing was worse than this life. I woke up. Had all sorts of syringes and needles stabbed into me to keep me premedicated and docile. I ate food that tasted like cardboard. My health was rapidly deteriorating, and half the day was spent getting my organs sliced and diced for the greater good of "scientific discovery".

I ran out the door as fast as I could. There was no point in trying to be discrete. They had cameras everywhere. If they didn't know about what just went down then they were about to. As a matter of fact, I'm curious as to how that guard was able to get anything out of the room. From what I had seen from rummaging around the heads of the doctors, the room was extremely guarded.

I shook my head, I had better things to worry about than that. I slipped past the seemingly never ending hallway. I turned away from every patrolling scouting team I saw.

Left.

Right.

Rig- no. Left.

Nevermind. I had run straight into a dead end. The commander and his merry band of "liberators" were closing in.

The commander himself was an old man, with a waxy face and a mustache that greatly resembled that of a certain German politician.

"Feuer!" He barked, and the men complied. Silver darts scattered through the air like shooting stars. They all hit. I should be completely knocked out. But I'm not. Because I'm not even hit. Not really.

You see, when you have the gift of magic, your body regenerates faster. That is common knowledge. What you can infer from that is because your regeneration system is so advanced, it stands to reason your immune system carries similar traits. When a muggle gets sick it takes days to fight the bacteria in their body, and once they do they have a better immunity to said bacteria. Now, tranquilizer darts have a bit more power to them than influenza, but that isn't to say that given enough consistent dosage a magical person couldn't become at least semi resistant.

I had been injecting tranquilizer darts into myself for the last 6 months.

I lift my arm, wand in hand. I vent my emotion. My hate. The wand sizzles in my arm. Temperamental thing. I remember the pain. I remember the torture.


"Will it hurt?" I asked, I was around 8 years old.

"Perhaps." The man in the white coat spoke. Completely indifferent. "But it iss fur ze benefit uff humanity." He spoke with pride. " Your minor pain vill guide us towarts a greater future! A future uff schcience!"

"Magic gives me my powers, not science!" I pouted indignantly.

Something cold flashed before the man's face. His knuckles whitened.

"But in a few years zat schall khange." He said gruffly as he grabbed my arm. "Undt zen eferyone vill haf your powers."

And then he stabbed me with the needles.


I snapped, channeling my rage, I used it as an outlet.

A ball of pitch black energy surrounded the room. It ripped and it tore into people. My wand had disintegrated. It couldn't take the power inside me, because nothing could. The darkness spread all over the room like disease. The wretched ichor reached for everything it could possibly see. Contaminating and destroying everything it came across.

I slaughtered them all.

Brutally.

I didn't even blink as I walked through the doors, making sure to kick the commander's corpse on the way out.

I had to run before any of the magical law enforcement came by. The last thing I wanted was to be held in a psychiatric evaluation ward.

And so I did. I ran faster than I had ever before. The darkness ran with me helping me, pushing me.

I was finally free.


Just a concept I came up with one day, and yes this harry is an obscurial. Just a one-shot but I might be open to making it a full story once my writing improves.