Saviour

Summary: Voldemort gets the stone from Harry, enabling him to return to full power and disappear from Hogwarts, taking the eleven year old boy-saviour with him as his prize. Harry had survived abuse at the hands of the Dursleys for over ten years but it quickly becomes a walk in the park when compared to his current reality of being held captive by an insane Dark Lord and his returning followers. When Snape returns to his side to continue his role as a spy he realises he has a decision to make - risk his life to try and save the son of his enemy or live with the guilt of watching the boy die at the hands of his former master.

A/N: Please read all tags and warnings, Rated R for graphic depictions of violence, child abuse, and torture. This will be dark, but there will be light at the end of the tunnel (eventually) there will be MANY triggers along the way so please read with caution. No beta, long fic with hopefully regular updates.

Chapter One The Pain

Harry found his consciousness slowly returning, trickling in as the darkness slowly receded. He could feel dampness on his clothes and a bitter cold that seeped into his bones, he was suddenly made aware that his body was shivering violently. His eyes fluttered open, but there was nothing to see but darkness. There were no distinctive sounds or anything else that might have given him any idea of where he was, all he knew was that he wasn't where he last remembered being.

He frowned, rubbing his aching forehead as he tried to recall anything from before waking. He remembered the confrontation of Quirrell and the removal of his turban that had revealed the face of Voldemort, facing the mirror and finding the stone in his pocket. He remembered the crazed look on Voldemort's face as he realised that Harry had the stone, and the quick wand movements that Quirrell had performed which had stopped him from being able to move before he even had a chance to really react.

He struggled against the invisible bindings, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't move a muscle. A slow smile grew on Voldemort's twisted face, his gleeful stare fixed firmly on the stone.

"Oh Harry, you've made this far too easy for me." He simpered, taking a slow step forward. "The old fool made sure I could never get my hands on it, but you've done it for me."

Harry tried to shake his head, but was still completely unable to move. His eyes were narrowed and full of rage as Voldemort approached, his heart pounding as he realised how completely helpless he was against this much older and better trained wizard.

Voldemort stopped in front of him,his terrible smile only growing wider. "Take it."

Quirrell responded immediately to the hissed order, spinning around and snatching the stone from Harry in one quick motion. As soon as it touched his hands he began to shake, the colour draining quickly from his face. "No, wait! Master…" His voice trailed off as his whole body tensed, a bright light emanating from the stone.

Harry was blinded by the light momentarily, unable to cover his face while still bound by Quirrell's charm. When the light finally faded away he blinked slowly, his vision beginning to return. Quirrrell was gone, standing in his robes was the fully formed body of Lord Voldemort, his snakelike face now in the correct position and without the grey, colourless skin tone that had possessed the face before. His slitted pupils were now bright red, and his body had become longer and more slender than Quirell's had been. He rotated Quirrell's wand around in his hand, chuckling to himself. "Oh to hold a wand again!"

Harry watched in horror, unable to do anything at all as Voldemort took another step towards him until he was eye to eye with the newly created Dark Lord.

"The ritual worked and the stone has restored me." He announced gleefully. "My magic has returned." He lifted the wand and with a quick wave, Harry was suddenly able to move again.

His mind raced as his eyes darted around, desperately looking for a way out. His wand was several yards away behind Voldemort, and there was a great deal of space to cover between him and the way out.

"Don't even think of it." Voldemort hissed, his wand raising into the air once more. "You will pay for the years you've cost me!" With a slash of his wand Harry felt something collide with his chest, and before he could even register what had happened darkness fell around him as he collapsed to the floor.

The realisation that what Harry remembered had been real hit him like a ton of bricks, his heart raced as he desperately tried to make anything out in the darkness. It was impossible, he could see nothing but inky blackness. He felt around with his hands, wincing as he felt resistance around his wrists, there was a loud scrape of metal on rock and he realised that his hands were bound in heavy irons. His wrists protested as he tried to stretch against the manacles, desperately trying to find some clue of where he could be.

The only thing he could be fairly sure of was that he probably wasn't in Hogwarts anymore, and it almost definitely had something to do with Voldemort. Neither of these things made him feel any better about his current predicament, and he wasn't able to discern anything else other than that this place was cold and wet, and he was restrained. He couldn't feel any obvious injuries and a quick once over of his whole body revealed only a small irritation where the irons sat on his wrists, and the continuous ache in his head that reminded him of the headaches he used to get around Quirrell.

He felt relieved that it didn't seem to be worse, but didn't have much time to dwell on that thought before the door swung open with a loud clang, light finally illuminating the area.

He took in the small cell he was sitting in for a quick moment, noticing the rock lined walls and heavy iron door before a dark figure stepped forward. He was tall and dressed in black, with a bone white mask over his face.

"Come with me." He said simply, waving his wand so that the chain connecting the irons to the wall behind him was undone. His low growl was unfamiliar to Harry and provided him with no clues as to who was behind the mask.

For half a second he considered resisting, but quickly decided he probably didn't stand a chance as a bound, eleven year old first year against this very large, fully grown wizard. He got up carefully, hes knees frotesting slightly and feeling stiff as he stood, only to be immediately pulled along by the chain. "Follow." The dark man hissed.

Harry did as he was told, following closely so that there was no need for the man to yank on the chain again, his wrists smarting already from the pressure.

It was only a short walk through a dimly lit hallway to another iron door, at which the man stopped and knocked once sharply.

"Bring him in."

Harry felt his blood turn to ice as he immediately recognised the voice, it was Voldemort. The truth that he had probably already realised but hadn't wanted to admit even to himself was finally sinking in, Voldemort had taken him. The man opened the door and pulled him through, revealing a large room that reminded Harry of some kind of medieval castle. There was a huge stone table in the middle that about a dozen other masked wizards sat behind, and a large pointed chair at the head, where Harry immediately recognised the newly reborn Lord Voldemort. He had a dark sneer on his face, somehow looking both incredibly happy but entirely hateful at the same time as he stared at the scrawny, bound boy in front of him.

"How long I have waited for this!" He exclaimed, getting to his feet. "A decade you cost me, you and that mudblood mother of yours." He frowned, beckoning for the man who held the chains to bring Harry closer. "I suppose I should be thanking you really, afterall I never would have got my hands on the stone without you." His lip curled back into some twisted version of a smile.

Harry winced, the truth he had already realised in those terrifying moments in front of the mirror hitting him once again. He was the reason Voldemort got the stone, it was his fault that the Dark Lord had returned to power. How could he have been so stupid?

The others at the table chuckled among themselves, joining in with their Lord's peal of dark laughter. Harry focussed on them once again, counting ten other men wearing the same dark robes and white mask as the man who had taken him from the cell.

"Ah, I suppose some introductions are in order." Voldemort laughed, noticing where Harry's attention was. "Remove your masks. They are no matter now, the boy is hardly going to be able to tell anyone."

They obeyed immediately, each quickly removing their mask as ordered. Harry scanned around the table, frowning as he failed to recognise anyone he saw. His eyes stopped on a man with long blonde hair tied back neatly, he wondered if this was Draco's father.

"Malfoy." Voldemort hissed, and the blonde man immediately stood. "I believe young Harry is acquainted with your son."

"Yes, My Lord." Malfoy nodded once. "Draco has many times expressed his disgust at having to attend lessons with this halfblood wretch."

Voldemort nodded carefully. "Indeed." His eyes fell on the shorter man near Malfoy, a twitchy man who didn't seem to be able to meet his gaze. "Wormtail." Voldemort said coldly, causing the small man to rise as Malfoy took his seat. "I believe you are also acquainted."

"Y-yes My Lord." The man stuttered, nodding quickly. Harry frowned, raking his memory to think of any time he might have met this man but came up short.

"Show him." Voldemort ordered, and seconds later the man disappeared. Harry's eyes widened, glancing around but unable to locate the man. Suddenly there was a loud squeak as a large rat clambered onto the table, running across it and jumping down onto the floor.

Harry jumped back before noticing the missing toe, what on earth was Scabbers doing here? He had no time to dwell on it before the rat suddenly started growing exponentially, shocking Harry as it took the form of the small man that had disappeared.

Voldemort clapped his hands together, clearly amused. "Wonderful, Wormtail. Do you remember your friend's pet Harry?"

Harry frowned, still not understanding. "Scabbers…"

"Wormtail is an animagus." Voldemort interrupted. "He has been waiting in the perfect position, a loyal servant ready to return to me." He turned back to the snivelling man. "You will be rewarded for your loyalty Wormtail."

"Thank you, My Lord." He nodded quickly before retaking his seat.

"Now the rest, I'm afraid, will be new friends." His smile grew wider as he gestured to the rest of them to stand. "Let's get acquainted, shall we?"

What happened next Harry could never have prepared for, before he could even think the man closest to him had whipped out his wand. "Crucio!" He hissed, and Harry suddenly felt like his entire body was on fire. Every nerve ending screamed out in agony as he curled up on himself, clenching his fists and biting down on his tongue. It felt like it went on for hours, but it was truly probably only a minute. He lay in a heap as the curse faded away, unable to move or even breathe. It was the worst pain he had ever felt in his life, much worse than the time Dudley had broken his arm and then cruelly stomped on it. Worse than any time he had been burned by Aunt Petunia and her frying pan, far worse than any pain that had been caused by Vernon's fists or belt.

He finally caught his breath, opening his eyes to see the next man standing before him as the others watched on, smiles on their faces and glee in their eyes as the Boy-Who-Lived trembled in front of them. "Liquifacitis." The new man uttered, waving his wand in a circular motion.

Harry screamed this time, unable to hold it in as his blood turned to fire. It felt like he was melting from the inside out, like his very veins had become molten inside. His nerve endings already shot from the first curse, this one reactivated them all over again. The agony was blinding, his vision grew dim as he screamed, his nails raking against his skin to try and somehow release the fire from his veins. There was no relief until the pain slowly began to fade as his vision disappeared, finally letting himself fall into much comforting darkness.

"Ennervate." His eyes shot open, just seconds later. The burning from the curse still lingered slightly in his veins despite it having been ended, his arms were red raw from where he had scratched himself while enduring the pain. "You disappoint me Harry." Voldemort leaned closer, dragging Harry into a sitting position by the collar of his robes. "You have only met two of my Deatheaters thus far, it's far too early to turn in."

"Osconfractus!" A man yelled from his left, and Harry felt every bone in his body break at once, only to immediately knit back together. It happened over and over until the curse was finally lifted, the agony a whole different kind of pain to the first two curses but no lesser in its intensity. He was unable to hold in a moan as the pain finally receded, leaving his bones feeling fragile and sensitive like they could break again at any second.

The man was replaced by the next in line, and Harry suddenly realised he had eight more Deatheaters waiting for their turn. He wouldn't survive it. Every bone, every muscle, every nerve in his body was already flooded with pain, there was no way he could survive another round.

But he did survive it. Voldemort made sure of that, bringing him back to consciousness any time he lost the fight and passed out he would be reawoken within seconds to continue to face the torture. By the time Malfoy's turn came around Harry was no longer even aware of where he was or what was happening, he could only feel the pain. Pain everywhere, all the time, all at once. It never stopped. His brain seemed almost detached from his body, like it was watching the scene from far away. Malfoy used some new and creative curse that caused him more pain, but he was unable to even differentiate it from the pain that had already completely taken over his body. He was checked out, not really there anymore. Lost within the firestorm within his body that felt like it would never end. At some point they gave up on curses and began hurting him physically, breaking his bones, burning his skin. One even sliced a long gash across his chest. While it still hurt, it was almost a twisted kind of relief. The physical pain was bad but it was nothing compared to the agony of the curses he had already been afflicted by. The dull knife on his skin as the tenth man cut him barely registered, fresh pain on top of old pain, the blood flowing from his chest was pooling around him but he could hardly register it as fact anymore after hours of brutal torture. Everything was in agony all at once, there was nothing but the pain. His thoughts began to spiral and the blackness took over once more, only for the pain to finally stop as the knife was finally removed. There were sounds around him and hands roughly pulling him up, but he couldn't understand anything that was being said.

His body ached in a way he never would have thought was possible, nothing existed anymore except the pain. The words around him continued but they meant nothing to him, eventually he came to realise he was being dragged back to the cell he had awoken in. He crumpled onto the floor in a heap, unable to even move as the chains were snapped back in place.

The darkness flooded in again and for a moment he thought he had passed out, but soon realised it was the blackness of the cell as the doors closed and not the relief he desperately wanted. He curled up into a ball as his body shook, the remnants of the pain shuddering through his body. He didn't know if it would ever stop, if he would ever know anything again other than the pain. He lay shaking for several long minutes as the blood continued to leak from his chest, his broken bones protested as he tried to numbly feel the wound with his hand. I'm dying. He thought vaguely, unable to feel any kind of emotion at that thought. I'm going to die. His head pounded as his eyes fell shut, a new kind of darkness washing over him. Finally, it was going to be over. He welcomed death like an old friend, the pain fading away to the background as he finally lost consciousness. His body lay still in the dark cell, his blood mixing with the water on the floor. His breathing slowed and then finally stopped, his heart seizing in his chest.

Finally.

He was unaware of the door opening, the light flooding in and the presence next to him. He couldn't hear the whispered words, or feel the spells working on his body. He had no awareness of the potions being tipped into his mouth, and felt nothing as they begun to work.

His mind wandered away, trying to leave his broken body behind. The darkness was all he knew now. The darkness and the pain.