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 after the first relatively short arc is over there will be MANY triggers along the way so please read with caution. No beta, long fic with minimum once a week or more updates.

This is a repost due to ongoing formatting issues with FFN, I'll get the rest uploaded as quickly as possible. Hopefully the formatting works properly this time, sorry to anyone who had followed the previous version for any inconvenience reposting has caused. As of the time of reposting this chapter there is over 100k words of this written so bear with me while I get it all resposted within the next week or two, as it is taking a lot of time to reformat everything to upload correctly.

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 he had it in his hands Quirrell's eyes widened, his fingers tracing every inch of it.

"Turn around." The hiss snapped Quirrell out of his admiration of the stone.

"Yes Master." He obeyed, and suddenly Harry was faced with the snake-like face of Voldemort once again.

"Dumbledore will stop you." Harry bit out, his eyes on the precious stone he had failed to protect.

Voldemort's cruel laughter echoed within the chamber as his mouth twisted into a sneer. "Dumbledore." He scoffed. "The man is a fool, after all he trusted you to save the stone. An eleven year old boy! Oh, his enchantments were hardly enough to trouble me, being that they were supposed to be solved by a child."

"I…I don't…" Harry's mind raced as the details fell into place. Hagrid taking him to Gringott's the day the stone was stolen, the clues that had led Hermione to find Flamel, Dumbledore being out of the castle tonight.

"Yes." Voldemort smirked, seeing the realisation on Harry's face. "He wanted you to come here, to stop me." He gestured at the mirror behind him. "He thought this little enchantment would be enough, but he grossly miscalculated."

Harry's mind was reeling, he had fallen right into the Dark Lord's trap and now the whole wizarding world would pay the price. His eyes darted around frantically, stopping on the relatively short distance between where he stood and the entrance, could he make it?

"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 began to race as he desperately tried to make anything out in the pitch black darkness. It was impossible, he could see nothing at all. He felt around with his hands, wincing as he felt some resistance around his wrists, there was the sharp scrape of metal on rock and he realised that his hands were bound in heavy irons. His wrists protested loudly as he tried to stretch against the manacles, desperately trying to reach anything at all that could help him.

The only thing he could be sure of was that he 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 dark, cold and wet, and he was restrained. He couldn't feel any obvious injuries right away and a quick once over of his whole body revealed only the pain of where the irons sat on his wrists, and a continuous mild 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 any 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 while he could, seeing for the first time the small space with rock lined walls and a 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." The stranger said with a low growl, waving his wand so that the chain connecting the irons to the wall behind him was undone. His voice was unfamiliar to Harry and provided him with no clues as to who could be 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 would play along for now until he could figure out a way to escape. He got up carefully, trying to get his stiff knees underneath him only to be immediately yanked upwards by the chain. "Follow." The dark stranger 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 an empty, dimly lit hallway towards 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 the same voice as Voldemort had used on the back of Quirrel's head. The truth that he had probably already realised but hadn't wanted to admit even to himself was finally sinking in, Voldemort had escaped with the stone and taken him with. The stranger opened the door widely 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 identically dressed masked wizards sat behind, and a large pointed chair at the head.

Harry immediately recognised the snake-like face of Lord Voldemort. No longer bound to Quirrell, he was much taller and more slender and had dark robes draped like shadows around his frame. His slitted pupils glowed a deep red and his snake-like features were almost inhuman in nature. 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 immeditaely 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 zoned in 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. There were far too many for him to even consider trying to escape, they could catch him in an instant.

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

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 that looked somewhat familiar, he wondered if this was Draco's father.

"Malfoy." Voldemort hissed, confirming his suspicion 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 little 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 somewhat acquainted."

"Y-yes My Lord." The man stuttered, nodding quickly. Harry frowned, wracking his memory to think of any time he might have met this man but came up short. He wasn't in the least bit familiar.

"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 and recognising the creature, 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. He stared in disbelief at the man, unable to comprehend how he had been Scabbers just moments before.

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." Harry remembered hearing that word before, it was how Professor mMcgonnagll was able to transform into a cat. Did that mean Scabbers had really been this man all along?

Voldemort turned back to the snivelling man with a satisfied sneer. "You will be rewarded for your loyalty Wormtail."

"Thank you, My Lord." The small man nodded his thanks before retaking his seat.

"Now the rest of them, I'm afraid, will be new friends." His smile grew wider as he gestured to the rest of them to stand. "I do love new friends. 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. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him scream. It felt like it went on for hours and hours, but it was truly probably only a minute before it ended. 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 no matter how angry he had been at the time.

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 lava inside. His nerve endings were already shot from the first curse, this one reactivated them all over again in a whole new and agonising way. The white hot 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 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. There are many more new friends waiting to meet you."

"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, this dull agony a whole different kind of pain to the first two curses but no less in its intensity. He was unable to hold in a moan of relief 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 even one more round, let alone eight.

But he did survive it. Voldemort made sure of that, bringing him immediately back to full consciousness every time he lost the fight and passed out, only to 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 but not really there anymore. 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, unable to care anymore. Lost within the firestorm within his body that felt like it would never end. At some point they must have run out of new and interesting curses and began hurting him physically, breaking his bones, burning his skin. One even sliced a long gash with a conjured dagger, almost splitting his upper torso in two.

While it still hurt, it was almost a twisted kind of relief. The physical pain was bad but it was nothing compared to the sheer agony of the curses he had already been afflicted by. The brutal punches of the tenth man to his body barely even registered, the fresh pain on top of older, more severe pain.

The blood flowing from the horrific wound on his chest was pooling around him but he could hardly register it as fact anymore after what felt like 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 began to take over once more. There were sounds around him and hands roughly pulling him up, but he was too close to unconsciousness to understand anything that was being said.

Despite the torture being over his whole 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 by his hands again. 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 just the complete blackness of the cell as the doors closed, not the relief of unconsciousness he so 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 ever again other than the pain. He lay shaking for several long minutes as the blood continued to leak from his chest, his many broken bones protesting as he tried to numbly feel the wound with his hand, it was long and deep and he couldn't feel anything except the blood. I'm dying. I'm going to bleed to death. 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 that had already been pooled 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 began to work.

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