Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Masculum Graviditate	By : ChibiAyane Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 62608 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 19
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters. This work of fiction is for fun only, not for profit.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Sorry this took so long to post. I've been having some major computer trouble.
There are some graphic depictions of blood, gore and some minor torture. FAIR WARNING!

"Speech."
'Thoughts.'
"~Parseltongue.~"
Spells and potions.
+Chapter 7: Nurture+
�@
--Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Friday 1 March 1996. Headmaster's office. 12:25 p.m.--
Headmaster Dumbledore was startled out of his reverie and staring contest with the correspondence he should have been tending to, by a loud whistling sound coming from one of his own inventions. It was the one he'd made to monitor the wards around Harry's home at Privet Drive. The Headmaster's face paled when he saw the instrument billow red smoke, alerting him that the wards had been broken.
His first thought was that Harry must have divulged the address to Voldemort under torture or blackmail. The only question was: Why did Voldemort want access to Number 4 Privet Drive if he already had Harry?
His next thought had him rushing to his fireplace, making Floo calls and sending out Fawkes and numerous Patroni, calling an emergency Order meeting.
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--Down in the Great Hall. Same moment.--
Lunch was coming to an end, but the Great Hall was still fairly full. The room was uncharacteristically quiet.
The Wizarding World knew now that Voldemort was indeed back, and that Harry had been telling the truth the whole time. They knew that Harry had been at the Ministry last night and had tried to fight against Voldemort himself with a bunch of his classmates, because there weren't any fully trained adults who would listen to him. The Daily Prophet that morning was full of retraction articles, and apologies towards Harry and Dumbledore. There was even an article from Rita Skeeter praising Harry's abilities and for his teaching skills in teaching his friends how to defend themselves well enough to stand up against a crowd of Death Eaters and survive - Hermione had made sure that insufferable beetle knew exactly what Harry had done to try and protect the Wizarding World, even if that Wizarding World had turned its back on him. There was talk of impeaching Cornelius Fudge and firing Dolores Umbridge, even possible prison time for both of them.
The whole school knew by now what had happened at the Ministry and what happened to Harry and Luna. The Gryffindor table was silent without it's prince, the Ravenclaw table was quiet with the loss of its eccentric entity, Hufflepuff was also subdued, even the Slytherin table was quiet, though it was a tense silence. Draco Malfoy hadn't even made any taunts, especially after his father had come to the school that morning and had tried to take him home, but after a muted argument, Malfoy Senior had left with a scowl on his face and without his son.
As for the few students who had been at the Ministry the night before, the teachers had allowed them to go to class that day - even though Defense Against the Dark Arts was cancelled, as well as Potions, until Professor Snape could return - in hopes that it would take their minds off of everything. But it was for naught. Hermione wasn't even bothering with her schoolwork that day, she just kept sighing in class and breaking down into silent sobs, because there was nothing she could think of to do, to help her friend. There was nothing to research, no puzzles to solve, nowhere to even start looking. She felt useless! Ron didn't know how to comfort her, since he was doing his best just to keep himself from crying as well. Ginny was beside herself, her eyes hadn't dried once since she woke up, but she managed to keep her sobbing to a minimum. Neville was just as obviously depressed, he just sat and stared at nothing. Seamus and the Twins weren't even bothering to try to make jokes about anything. At the moment, Fred was just pushing his food around his plate without eating any of it, George had his hands in his lap, he hadn't even bothered to fix himself a plate for lunch. Seamus had been slowly chewing the same mouthful of food all through lunch.
Suddenly, Hermione slammed her cutlery down onto the table and stood up. Any sound there might have been in the Great Hall went silent, and all attention turned to the angry bushy-haired muggleborn.
"'Mione?" Ron asked, looking at her warily.
"I'm going to see the Headmaster," she said, grabbing up her bag. "There has to be something more we can do!" With that, there was scrambling from several Gryffindors to stand and follow her. Hermione turned to see that everyone who had been with her last night had stood up, so did more than half of Gryffindor, including the Quidditch team and several underclassmen. "No, you lot stay here. If there's anything we can do, I'll make sure you know and that the Headmaster knows you've volunteered your assistance," she told them all. Almost all of them pouted and sat down again, except for the four Weasleys and Neville.
"You're not going anywhere without us!" Ginny said stubbornly and preceded Hermione out of the Great Hall. Hermione sighed and gave a wry smile to the others, then turned and followed the fiery redhead.
�@
When they arrived at the Headmaster's office, they found the gargoyle had already moved aside, so they went up the stairs and knocked on the door. The door was opened immediately by a confused looking Tonks.
"What are you lot doing here?" she asked.
"We wanted to talk to the Headmaster," Hermione answered.
"There's an Order meeting starting in a few minutes, you'll have to wait," Tonks told them apologetically.
"No, let them in, Nymphadora. We have time until the others arrive," said Dumbledore's voice. Tonks opened the door and let the six of them in. Hermione walked straight up to the Headmaster. "Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Sir, I know you think we're all too young to do anything to help, but I have to insist that you reconsider that judgement," Hermione told him boldly. "If there's anything we can do to help, even if we might get hurt, then please let us. That goes for all of us, even most of the other Gryffindor students. They all wanted to come up here and demand to help."
"Well, I don't know what you can do to help, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, frowning. "I don't even know what I can do to help." He gestured to the smoking instrument that he'd put on his desk in front of him. "We've run across a situation, it seems. The wards around Harry's home on Privet Drive have fallen. The Dursleys are completely defenseless, and the only way this could have happened, is if the blood protection between Harry and his relatives was betrayed or revoked somehow. I would assume that Harry has been forced into divulging his family's whereabouts. But I have no idea why Voldemort would want to hurt them, now that he has Harry. Other than possibly using them as leverage to control Harry."
"I don't think that's it," Hermione said thoughtfully.
"Oh, and why is that?" Dumbledore asked, intrigued.
"Something Luna said," Hermione answered, turning to look at Ron and the others. "On the train home for the winter holidays. Harry had woken up from a nightmare after he'd fallen sleep in the compartment. She said Harry's dreams had changed because someone was changing his mind. I don't think she meant Harry was the one changing his mind, but Voldemort. Voldemort was changing his mind, has changed his mind about something. He did say he wasn't going to kill Harry, but he must still have plans that involve Harry, or he wouldn't have taken him."
"Voldemort has changed his mind," Dumbledore muttered to himself. He directed his attention back to Hermione. "I don't suppose you have any idea what he's changed his mind about and why he might need to know the location of Harry's home and family?"
"I have an idea... but it's far-fetched," Hermione admitted.
"Doesn't matter how far-fetched it might seem, an idea could be all we need to figure this out." By now all the Order members that had been alerted had arrived, except a certain werewolf and animagus that no one has noticed the absense of, yet.
"Well...," Hermione hesitated, a slight blush coming up on her cheeks. "Ron and Neville noticed something that I think Harry was trying to hide, but I don't think he realizes just how close of attention we all give him. I think Harry's still not used to having friends who worry about him..."
"What Hermione is beating around the bush about," Ron started, taking a leaf from Hermione's book, when she finishes speaking for him every time he rambles on. "Is that Harry's nightmares about Voldemort have changed from nightmares...," Ron said, grimacing. "To wet dreams. And if his nightmares are any clue, the dreams weren't all coming from Harry." Dumbledore sat there, speechless, his blue eyes wide and twinkling.
"Wait," Neville said, scrunching up his face. "When did Harry's dreams change, exactly?"
"The day we left for winter holidays," Hermione answered. "As far as we know."
"You mean, the day right after those new potions were splattered across the papers?" Neville asked, his Pureblood upbringing pointing out the obvious to him.
Everyone in the room gaped, jaws almost hitting the floor as realization dawned on them. Dumbledore was looking almost gob-smacked, which was an interesting expression on the wizened old man.
"Ew!" Ron said. "Snake Breath wants to get Harry up the duff?!" Hermione suddenly took on a calculating expression, while Dumbledore looked to be puzzling over something as well.
Dumbledore was vividly remembering his brief encounter with Tom Riddle at the Ministry last night.
"Tom, don't do this," Dumbledore implored.
"Do what, Albus?" Voldemort taunted. He gave the Headmaster a lazy shrug. "I don't plan on killing him any time soon, I promise. I still need him!" The Dark Lord pressed a mocking kiss to Harry's forehead and throwing a wink at the aging wizard.
"Oh, my gods, that is what he's after," Dumbledore muttered to himself. "The Potter family has a lot of power, both politically and magically, and Harry is the sole heir to it all. Voldemort hasn't been able to find a way to make himself truly immortal, so he wants an heir that would likely be more powerful than even himself."
"That still doesn't explain what he wants with Harry's Muggle family," Tonks pointed out.
"Well, if Harry were to die before he could give birth, everything would go to next of kin, which is the Dursleys," Dumbledore said. "Though, I'm not sure that's it..."
"I don't think that's it," Fred chimed in, gaining everyone's attention. George looked at his brother with a look that was asking him what the hell he was doing, a new expression on one of the Weasley twins.
"Mister Weasley?" Dumbledore prompted.
Fred glanced at his brother, shrugging his shoulder. "You-Know-Who is a possessive sort of person, isn't he?" he asked, turning back to Dumbledore, who nodded. "And a sort of sadistic kind of possessive?" Another affirmative nod. "Well, that means he wouldn't want someone else to touch something that he thinks is his, right? Especially if that someone hurt that something of his?"
"What are you getting at?" Molly Weasley asked her twin sons.
George continued the deduction. "Well, if You-Know-Who is over there feeling Harry up, he's bound to notice a few things amiss."
"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked.
"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "His scars!"
The Twins turned incredulous eyes on her. "How did you know about those?" they asked in unison.
Hermione snorted. "Who do you think helped him find the glamour charms to hide them?"
"What scars!" Dumbledore asked in a raised voice, rising from his seat.
The students in the room turned to the Headmaster with wide, guilty eyes - like they'd been caught smuggling firewhiskey into the dormitory.
"Harry's relatives aren't exactly the kindest or gentlest Muggles you'll ever meet," Ron said, by way of answering. "Especially that uncle of his," he added through gritted teeth.
"Wait, how do you know about that?" Fred asked his brother. "We had to basically pry it out of him!"
"How do you know about it?" Ron challenged, even though he knew the answer. He just wanted to see his twin brothers blush, which they did and then tried to avoid his gaze.
"Harry doesn't always notice right away when the glamours wear off," Neville answered, making everyone turn to him. "Especially in the morning when he's barely awake and headed for the shower."
"And he's told me about some of the abuse," Ron said and shrugged at his brothers, who were staring at him with a small amount of jealousy that Harry had confided in him first and not them. "I'm his best friend!"
"Are you all telling me that those Muggles beat him?!" Molly asked, her voice rising to a shriek and her face paling. "Why didn't he ever tell anyone?!"
"He's ashamed of it," Hermione answered. "I tried to tell him that he has nothing to be ashamed of, that his relatives are the ones who should be ashamed, but he wouldn't listen. He told Ron and I not to tell anyone about it, so we didn't."
Dumbledore sat back down, sighing wearily. "If I had known, I would have removed him from that environment."
Molly choked on a sob. "Is that why you were always so adamant that we invite him to stay for the summer?" she asked Ron.
Ron nodded. "And why I always asked you if we could send him food. They didn't feed him either. Why do you think he's so skinny and short?"
"Because they starved him and locked him in a cupboard all the time," Hermione added bitterly, her eyes glistening with tears. She decided she might as well tell them everything, if there was a chance it would help. "It stunted his growth. Then they also made him do all the cooking and cleaning and then beat him within an inch of his life and locked him in his room. Everyday. When he cooked, his aunt would watch him to make sure he didn't steal any food. Whenever he did something they thought was wrong or not quite right, they locked him in the cupboard under the stairs, sometime for days, depending on the infraction."
Molly collapsed to her knees and started sobbing heavily, she couldn't believe anyone would do that to any child, let alone family. That someone did that to a boy she thought of as her own son without her noticing, she felt guilty. Her husband was absently rubbing her shoulders to comfort her, even though he looked lost in his own horrified thoughts.
"How could I not have known?" Dumbledore whispered to himself and sighed again, putting his head in his hands. "It's my fault for putting him there in the first place." He looked up again, allowing everyone to notice that he was also fighting back tears. Fawkes flew over from his perch to land on the Headmaster's shoulder, nipping at his beard to try and comfort him. "So, that's why Voldemort wants his family - his relatives; they don't deserve to be called family. It seems that he and Harry have more in common than I thought."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.
Dumbledore took a breath and started to explain, deciding he should share it with the rest of them. Should explain WHY Voldemort was doing what he was doing, what drove him to fight this war. Tell them why they had to fight him in the first place. They knew that they didn't agree with Voldemort's ideals, but they didn't know why they were his ideals to begin with. "Voldemort - Tom Riddle - when he was a child, he lived in an orphanage. If that wasn't bad enough, it was war time for both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. The orphanage was so underfunded, and the Muggle caretakers so greedy, there weren't enough funds to feed and cloth all of the children. They were left to fight amongst themselves for food and clothes. Also, the Muggle children - even the caretakers - were afraid of Tom, for his abilities. They saw him as a freak, and they treated him like one. The children bullied him, the caretakers beat him. They locked him up and refused to feed him, telling him that he didn't deserve to eat their food. I suppose it was a determining factor in Tom's development, what drove him to his ambitions, his desires to possess anything he needed or anything he wanted. Having to fight for what he needed at such a young age or having to go without, how could one expect him to turn out any other way? I should have taken him away from there, but I didn't. This was before I fought Grindelwald. I was only a Transfiguration teacher at the time, I had almost no pull in the Wizengamot or the Ministry. There wasn't anything I could do, short of adopting him myself. Then, Tom came to Hogwarts - I went and retrieved him myself - where he learned about what he truly was, about his powers and abilities, about his ancestry. He became convinced he was better than others, because he was more than the Muggle children were and he was so much more powerful than his magical classmates. And he still is, he is one of the most magically powerful wizards in the world, as well as one of the most knowledgeable. But he made friends with the wrong people - if you could call them friends, certain Pureblooded Slytherins and a few Ravenclaws. Back then they were even more pompous than they are now. He decided that the Purebloods were right, they were better than Muggleborns and Halfbloods, ignoring the fact that he himself was a Halfblood. He still does, he refuses to acknowledge his Muggle heritage. Refuses his real name; his mother named him after his Muggle father. I can't help but think that things might be different, if he'd been able to grow up in a loving home." Dumbledore paused, observing the silent audience.
"Never thought I'd see the day when I'd feel a little sorry for You-Know-Who," Neville muttered to himself.
"Now, I've made the same mistake with Harry, only this time it's worse, because I PUT him there. I'm amazed Harry has turned out so differently, that he is so loving and forgiving after what he's been through," Dumbledore said.
Hermione stared at the Headmaster, amazed to see the usually jovial and happy man be so absorbed in self-loathing. He blamed himself for everything that was happening, even though it really wasn't his fault at all. "Nature versus nurture, Headmaster. There's no way anyone can know how a child will turn out. Even the most loved children can grow up thinking less of themselves." Here she gave a look to Neville and then to Ron. "Then there are children like Harry, who didn't know love for longer than he could remember, and still turned out to have a heart bigger than any other's." She smiled a little as she remembered her best friend. "Tom Riddle and Harry Potter, two people who grew up in a similar way, but turned out to be polar opposites."
Dumbledore gave Hermione a sad smile. "You're right-" He was cut off by a whistling sound, he turned to one of his other instruments. "Death Eaters have arrived in Little Whinging." He stood up and surveyed his Order of the Phoenix. "I must say before we go, that if any of you feel you don't want to defend the lives of these Muggles, then I won't hold it against you, if you should choose to stay behind."
"Don't be silly, Albus!" Molly said, wiping her eyes. "If there is any way we can find Harry or Luna, it's by capturing a Death Eater." There was a smattering of cheers and agreements.
"Very well," Dumbledore said, looking around at them all. "Where are Sirius and Remus? I know I sent Patroni to them."
The others looked around, searching for the two absentees. "You don't think something's happened to them, do you?" Tonks asked.
"They are closer to Harry than the rest of us," Molly put in, a worried tremor in her voice.
"All the more reason to go to Little Whinging, right now!" Dumbledore said, then turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, hold down the fort." McGonagall nodded her agreement, as the Headmaster lowered the wards around his office and the members of the Order of the Phoenix apparated out of the office and straight to Number 4 Privet Drive.
Only the students and McGonagall were left standing in the room.
"Well, now," Minerva said, turning to her students. "I believe we all have classes to be in. Hurry up now, we're thirty minutes late! I'd like to make sure your schoolmates haven't destroyed my classroom!" And she ushered them all out of the room. The students left, some grumbling about being left out again.
�@
--Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. A moment later.--
Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix arrived in time to see carnage. In the few minutes since the Death Eaters arrived, they'd managed to destroy several houses, many of which were on fire. Number 4 still stood, looking almost untouched, but for the front door that had been blown off it's hinges. There was screaming, as the more insane Death Eaters did what they did best; tortured and killed Muggles. There were already several bodies in the streets, in broad daylight.
The fighting between the Light and the Dark started as soon as the Light Order arrived, racing to protect and save the lives of innocent Muggles.
But what they didn't know, was that most of these Muggles were far from innocent. After Harry had broken the blood protection wards by giving up the location, the Dark Lord had peeked into Harry's mind (more like forced his way in to get the details), and found that Harry's relatives were not the only ones who had treated the magical child like a freak, the whole neighborhood had. They'd seen the abuse and neglect and had ignored it. The adults had warned their children away from the 'Potter brat', some had even encouraged their children to bully him or turned a blind eye when their children cornered the small boy. The only person in that neighborhood who'd treated Harry like a human being was the Squib, Arabella Figg, whom the Dark Lord had ordered his Death Eaters to leave untouched.
The Dark Lord's orders were relatively simple; destroy the neighborhood but don't kill them all, no children, no prisoners; leave Arabella Figg and her home unharmed, and save the Dursleys for him. That was it.
Voldemort was currently standing in the sitting room of Number 4, smirking at the Muggles. Dudley was trying to hide behind his mother, whom was trying to shield her fat lump of son, whilst cowering on the sofa, after the Dark Lord had ordered them to sit. Vernon, on the other hand, hadn't taken lightly to being ordered around in his own home, and was now screaming and twitching on the floor. He'd dared to raise his voice and even his fist to the Darkest Lord of all time and was facing the very painful consequences of it. He'd been under the Cruciatus Curse for more than three minutes now.
After another thirty seconds, he lifted the curse, then quickly cast Incarcerous on the walrus of a man. He felt it as soon as the Order arrived, passing through the wards that he'd put up to alert him to the arrival of the Order or any Ministry Aurors. He turned to Petunia Dursley and her son and tied them up as well, then levitated them all into a neat pile on the floor, cruelly making sure Petunia was on the bottom. When he heard hurried footsteps rushing through the house, he looked up to the main entrance of the room to see Albus Dumbledore rush in with his wand ready and a grim but determined expression on his face. The two wizards raised their wands and kept them trained on their opponent.
"Albus, how lovely of you to join me," Voldemort mocked, dropping a portkey onto the pile of Dursleys, whisking them away to his dungeons before the old man could stop him.
Dumbledore sighed wearily. "Tom, you have to stop this! Let them go, let them all go! Let Harry go! I'm begging you!"
"Oh, the Great Albus Dumbledore, reduced to begging already?" Voldemort asked, smirking. "I haven't even done anything, yet. Not really. Why should I let them go? These Muggles aren't worth saving, I promise you. You would agree, if you knew. And, as for Harry, I'm never letting him go. Ever. And there's nothing you could do or say to change my mind. These... creatures you call Harry's family, do you know what they've done? Those Muggles outside, the rest of this sickeningly boring Muggle neighborhood, do you know what they've all done? Or, in some cases, not done?"
"I know," Dumbledore croaked out, frowning. "I've only just learned what Harry's relatives have done to him. His friends decided it would be best to divulge that particular secret of Harry's, in hopes it would help us to understand why you came here. I know now, that I have made the same mistake again with Harry that I made with you. I let you both suffer, when you shouldn't have had to experience something so horrible."
"It's a little late for self-pity and half-arsed apologies, Dumbledore," Voldemort ground out.
"What do you want with Harry, Tom?" Dumbledore asked. "I have to ask, why are you keeping him alive? I would think you were still of the mind to kill him, because of the prophecy. What am I missing, Tom?"
Voldemort snorted. "I heard the whole prophecy months ago, old man. The perks of having followers in the Ministry. It was easy to get into the Department of Mysteries to hear it. As far as I'm concerned, that prophecy fulfilled itself that very night I went after Harry in his crib. As for what I have planned for him now? I think I'll let you work that one out yourself." Voldemort raised his wand higher, intending to cast a spell to distract Dumbledore long enough for him to get out of the house, and out of the anti-apparition wards he could feel Dumbledore had put around the house.
"Yes, Harry's friends had a good idea about what you wanted Harry for," Albus said, trying to stall for more time. "His dorm mates have noticed a few changes in his... sleep patterns. And his best friend, Hermione, she's a brilliant one; she's the one who figured it all out in the end. You want Harry to bear you an heir. But my question is, what will you do with him after he's given you an heir?"
"Oh, I want more than one, Albus," Voldemort smiled darkly, his eyes going a reddish orange with lust, as he thought of Harry and that delectable body of his, just waiting for him to ravish it. "I'm not just going to have Harry bear me an heir and then be done with him, oh no, I'm going to be keeping him."
"Why?" Dumbledore asked, perplexed.
"There are many reasons," the Dark Lord started, inching around to the patio door that lead into the back yard. "I'm sure you've already worked them all out. There is one reason, however, that I need to ask: did you know?" he asked, pausing in his movement.
"Did I know what?"
"What Harry is?" Voldemort hissed, continuing his movement towards the glass patio door. "Did you know about what I'd left behind in his scar?"
Dumbledore sighed. "I had a hunch. I hadn't confirmed it, though. I'd only found out about your horcruxes after Harry presented your destroyed diary to me in his second year. Adding to that the knowledge of the pain he experiences whenever you're near, I wondered."
"Well, it's confirmed now," Voldemort gritted out, deciding that he would clarify a few things with the old man, since they were there. "So, now you know, Harry will NEVER be leaving my side. He will stay with me, protected and cared for, I'll even make sure he continues his education from the safety of my home. An even more thorough education than what he would receive at Hogwarts. I'll give him what he craves the most; a real family. Hopefully, one day I'll get him to bond himself to me; to make him my consort. The work's already half done, anyway." Voldemort scoffed. "That soul piece that's inside of him? Harry's own soul is so pure and... loving, that it has accepted and merged with the shard of mine. There's no reversing it." He paused again, debating for a moment. "Don't fret, you may yet see him again. I doubt it'll happen anytime soon, but eventually I'll be able to trust him with a little more freedom. It'll be even longer before I can trust others with Harry's freedom." He raised his wand to his throat and cast a Sonorus. "My Death Eaters, retreat." Silently casting the counter spell, he spoke to Dumbledore once more. "I'd best be going now. I have a few Muggles to punish and a stubborn Gryffindor to break in. Oh, and don't worry too much about Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. They'll be staying with me as well." Dumbledore raised his wand higher and opened his mouth, no doubt to cast the first spell to start the duel he was expecting to happen between the two of them. But, unfortunately for him, Voldemort had other plans. He'd anticipated Dumbledore's arrival and added an extra fail safe, and so, he cast the silent spell that activated the invisible array he'd put on the floor in the entrance that Dumbledore was now standing in. A semi-opaque white sphere appeared around Dumbledore, imprisoning the old man inside it; inhibiting and feeding off of his magic. It was a powerful Chinese containment sphere; a dark spell that he'd learned about in his travels, that was originally designed to contain demons and drain the magic out of them to be repurposed as the caster saw fit. Needless to say, that if it were to be used on a wizard, said wizard would die eventually from magic deficiency, if they weren't freed in time. Even if they were freed in time, it would still leave the wizard severely weakened for a while.
Once the insufferable old man was contained, the Dark Lord rushed out the door and past the wards. 'That ought to keep him busy for a while,' he thought, with a sadistic grin on his face. He cast a quick spell to set the house on fire, and then apparated back to his castle.
Once the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters had apparated away, Little Whinging was left in a state of shock and chaos; houses burning, people screaming and crying, blood running through the streets, bodies of Muggles, Death Eaters and Order members alike all over the place. The sirens of Muggle emergency vehicles filled the air, along with the cracks of apparition signaling the arrival of Aurors. The surviving Order members were too shocked to know what to make of it all. They hadn't managed to capture any Death Eaters alive, and Dumbledore seemed to be stuck in a bubble they couldn't break through.
�@
--Slytherin Castle, somewhere in Ireland. Same day.--
Lord Voldemort apparated directly into the dining room where he'd left Harry (chained by the ankle to the large, heavy, wooden table), after healing his newest injuries, repairing the boy's shirt and ordering the house elves to clean up the mess. The boy was sitting in his chair, scowling at the strawberry he'd been mutilating on his plate. He looked up when he felt the air displacement and heard the tell tale pop of apparition.
"Where have you taken Remus and Sirius?" Harry demanded of the Dark Lord, not even bothering with a greeting of any kind.
"They're in the dungeons for the time being," Voldemort answered easily. "I will provide them with better accommodations once I've reached a suitable agreement with them." He strode over to Harry, vanishing the chain and shackle with a wave of his hand. He pulled Harry's chair out, urging him to stand. "Speaking of the dungeons. I have something to show you."
Harry stood up, warily eyeing Voldemort. "Where did you go?" he asked in a small voice, dreading that he already knew the answer.
Voldemort smirked. "Little Whinging." He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and steered him towards the door and out into the corridor.
"Do I want to know what you did while you were there?" Harry asked softly.
"Probably not, but you will know anyway," Voldemort answered, strolling leisurely through the halls with Harry, making the long walk to the entrance of the dungeons. "Then again, you may be pleased to know that most of that foul little muggle suburb is no longer standing." Harry gasped. "And most of the people who hurt you are now dead. Not to worry, I didn't allow my Death Eaters to harm any children, even though they were the ones who did the most damage, aside from your uncle. And Mrs. Arabella Figg is completely unharmed."
Harry seemed to let out a small sigh of relief for the few who had survived the massacre. Then Harry remembered where Voldemort was leading him. "What is it that you want to show me?" Harry asked, stopping and looking up at Voldemort with apprehension. "Please don't make me watch you hurt anyone." Voldemort's eyes turned a dark red, almost maroon color; as though he were on the verge of getting angry. He didn't answer, he simply reached and clasped a hand around Harry's upper arm and started pulling him along. Harry bit his lip, torn between wanting to cry and wanting to scream at the Dark Lord.
A few tense and silent minutes later, they reached an unassuming door. It was old; made of a faded dark wood and black iron bands. It was just as they reached this door, that Voldemort waved his wand and summoned a pair of shoes onto Harry's bare feet. Harry was vaguely pleased to see they were his own worn pair of Converse trainers, though Harry wondered why the Dark Lord thought he needed them all of a sudden.
They continued through the door and down a winding staircase, and Harry's silent question was answered when they reached the bottom and something crunched under Harry's feet. The wet, moldy stone floor was littered with tiny pieces of broken glass that glittered in the torch light and sharp rocks and pebbles that looked as though they could do some real damage. Harry shuddered with the thought of what walking through this place bare foot would do to one's feet, or if one was dragged through here, like he was sure most prisoners would be. The atmosphere of the place was dark and gloomy, he could hear whimpering and crying coming from some of the cells that he forced himself not to look into, as he was lead down the passageway between cells. What hit him most about the dungeons was the smell; this place had obviously never been cleaned, ever. He could smell the rot and putrifaction, the blood, feces, urine and vomit; the general filth of humans and animals. There were rats all over the place, insects crawling everywhere, even some small magical creatures that Harry knew could be devilishly cruel little things; like the doxies and the pixies, who were carnivorous and had really sharp teeth. Everything was intended to make this place as horrible, painful and depressing as possible. Harry thought it was positively traumatizing, and he wasn't even being kept as a prisoner down here.
'Sirius and Remus are down here somewhere,' Harry found himself thinking, despairingly.
Harry made the mistake of looking up further from the ground, that was covered in more than just glass, rocks and mold - there were other things he didn't even want to think about identifying - he saw that there were numerous torture devices around, Magical and Muggle. He had to cover his mouth to hold in his lunch when he noticed on one device there was someone still attached to it; someone who had clearly died and had been there for quite a while; fortunately or unfortunately, he hadn't been there long enough for the rats and decay to finish cleaning the flesh from the bones.
He couldn't help himself, he had to if he didn't want to puke; he turned into Voldemort's side and buried his face into his robes, allowing the Dark Lord to lead him forward to whatever the hell he wanted to show Harry in this disgusting and terrifying place. Suddenly, he found himself extremely glad that Voldemort wanted him for something more than to just torture and kill him, otherwise he would be staying down here as well.
Harry gave a startled yelp, when a hand reached between the bars and grabbed his ankle. He'd almost fallen over onto the pain-inducing floor, if not for Voldemort holding him up. An unfamiliar male voice started pleading with Harry to save him, pleading with the Dark Lord to release him, spewing apologies and making empty or impossible promises to make up for what he'd done. The Dark Lord growled angrily, and with one swipe of his wand, the arm of the hand that was holding onto Harry, was severed from the body it was attached to. The man screamed and blood spewed, covering Harry's shoes and trouser legs. And that was it, Harry lost his control over his gag reflex and puked all over the floor. Again, the only thing that was holding him up was Voldemort, who sighed wearily.
"First timers," the Dark Lord lamented. "I suppose, I should have given you a little more time to digest your food before bringing you down here." He pointed his wand at Harry's face, casting a spell that cleaned and freshened his mouth (leaving Harry wondering in the back of his mind why he had been bothering with a toothbrush all this time, if there was a spell that did the same thing more efficiently).
"Why did you bring me down here at all?!" Harry asked, his voice wavering. He forced his eyes away from the severed limb, to look up at the Dark Lord's amused face.
"You'll see," Voldemort answered simply, pulling Harry along further, until they reached the last few cells in the row. They were by far the smallest cells; only three feet wide by four feet deep. Three of them were occupied by people Harry had hoped to never see again.
Upon their arrival into the Dark Lord's dungeons, the house elves had done as they were trained to do and had locked the Dursleys up in the cells, with chains and shackles keeping them tethered to the wall, leaving them unable to do anything but stand on their toes. Their shoes and personal effects were taken from them, leaving them bare foot and in dirty burlap robes. When Harry was in sight, the occupants of the cells started yelling and screaming at him, rattling their chains. Vernon started spitting insults at Harry and promises of pain directed at both Harry and the Dark Lord.
"Freak! I knew you were nothing but trouble! You hear me! Release us! How dare you kidnap normal people like us!" Vernon continued to shout, causing Harry to cringe, as his uncle's face turned purple with rage. Voldemort saw through the link he shared with Harry, that Harry was thinking about all the times his uncle had screamed like this and how it had always ended with him lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, with Harry's magic being the only thing that kept him alive. "You useless freak! I should have killed you the night you were left on my doorstep! I should have thrown you into the trash where you belong, but I didn't! I allowed you to stay in my home with my NORMAL family, we took care of you! Gave you food, shelter and clothing, and this is the thanks you give us!?" Harry cowered behind Voldemort, gripping the sleek black robes. Voldemort raised his wand and silenced all three of the Dursleys.
"Excuse me, did you just say you took care of him? Fed him? And you honestly call giving him your sons old rags clothing him?" The Dark Lord hissed at Vernon, his eyes crimson as he stared down his nose at the fat whale of a man, who looked as though he were stuffed into the cell. He was so fat, he didn't even fit into his prison cell. "I know everything about Harry's life with you and your filthy Muggle family. You didn't take care of him! You did the same thing every other Muggle does when faced with something you fear and don't understand. You used him and abused him, you starved him and beat him and belittled him. Him! Harry Potter, one of the most powerful wizards in the world? The boy who has managed to thwart my every move since the day he was born." Petunia's eyes widened in realization, Vernon's brow furrowing as he thought, slowly coming to same conclusion. Dudley had no idea what was going on. Voldemort smiled smugly, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Oh, yes, allow me to introduce myself. I am the Dark Lord Voldemort. I killed Lily and James Potter, as well as numerous other witches and wizards, and countless muggles. Anyone who got in my way." Vernon and Petunia paled considerably. "So far, the only two people who have managed to get away from me alive are Albus Dumbledore and none other than our own dear sweet Harry Potter." He twirled his wand again and pointed it at Vernon and silently sent the Cruciatus Curse at the tub of lard. Since he was still silenced, Vernon thrashed in his chains, his mouth gaping with muted screams.
Voldemort wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him out from behind him and holding him against his side. Harry's eyes zeroed in on Vernon's thrashing and twitching form. A wave of empathy went through him but it was steamrolled by an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. He felt sorry for anyone who had to go through such pain, but seeing his uncle like this? To see his worst tormentor, writhing in pain inflicted upon him for Harry's own justice? Harry couldn't help but feel vindicated by it. Voldemort released the curse, letting Vernon slump in his bonds. He turned to Harry, pulling him forward, positioning him in front of him, facing the prisoners. He wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, putting his chin on Harry's shoulder. He took Harry's right hand and put the yew wand into the palm, wrapping Harry's fingers around the handle. He wrapped his own hand around Harry's, gripping the wand.
Harry gasped, as he felt the power thrumming through his hand and arm; the pull of the eager wand to be used for the most powerful spells, the magic flowing from Voldemort's hand, mixing with his own and connecting with the wand's phoenix feather core. Harry shuddered at the feeling, the magic crackling along his and Voldemort's skin. The feeling of their magic mixing, the heady aura of the mixture around the both of them was intoxicationg. There was the scent of ozone as the crackling magic heightened and became visible, looking very much like lightning zapping around and over them. Voldemort groaned in appreciation, gripping his hand more tightly around Harry's, pointing the wand at Vernon.
"Punish him," the Dark Lord purred into Harry's ear. "He deserves it for everything he's done to you. All those times he almost killed you, and would have killed you had you not been a wizard. Even the Ministry would sentence him to life in Azkaban, or even the Kiss, for what he's done. But, now you have the opportunity to take your own revenge. On him, on her and on their spawn. They are yours to do with as you please." Voldemort smiled as he felt Harry shudder again. "You know the spell, Harry, all you have to do is say it. Put all of your intent and anger behind it. Give them the same pain they gave you. It's only fair."
He wanted to, so badly. He wanted to make his uncle hurt the way he'd made Harry hurt. A flutter of anticipation when through his core and Harry's breath hitched and he started shaking his head. He tried to pull his hand away, to drop the wand, to get away from Voldemort, to get out of the dungeon. He needed air! He started panting and yanking his hand out of the Dark Lord's. Voldemort relented, letting Harry pull away. He would get the boy to accept his new role eventually, but it's best not to push too hard. He let Harry run away from him, up the stairs and out of the dungeon. It didn't matter where Harry went; he wouldn't be able to leave the grounds and any dangerous rooms were closed to him. The only potential problems might come from the Death Eaters that were present in the castle. He hadn't checked to see if Bellatrix was able to get out of bed yet; something he really should have been keeping an eye on. Bellatrix would no doubt want revenge on Harry, for using so many hexes on her that conflicted with each other to the point of causing her to be bedridden with incurable boils, stomach flu-like symptoms, and her hair seemed to be permanently hot pink.
The Dark Lord smiled darkly at the back of Harry as he ran away, then he turned his attention to the Muggles. He raised his wand and released the silencing charm on the three of them. Petunia was sobbing, while Dudley was just confused and afraid and thus, silent. Vernon was quickly starting to turn purple again. Voldemort pointed his wand at him again.
"It would be wise to keep that mouth of yours shut," the Dark Lord warned. Vernon narrowed his eyes, but stayed silent, his moustache rippling with his heavy angry breaths. "You've gone too long allowing yourself to say whatever you damn well please. Soon, you'll realize your mistakes and learn your place. Not only have you hurt a truly innocent child, but a magical one at that. Add to that just who he is, and you've sealed your own fate the very first time you raised your hand against him."
"I don't understand," Petunia squeaked. "Why do you care what we've done to the boy? I thought you wanted him dead? In his letter, Dumbledore said something about a prophecy or some such nonsense, that made you want to kill him."
"I did want him dead," Voldemort confessed. "Until I learned what the whole prophecy was. I find that it's fulfilled. It was fulfilled that very night I killed Lily and James Potter." Voldemort smirked. "After hearing the whole thing, I was just going to make sure Harry stayed occupied and away from the front lines, but then a very skilled Potions Master invented a few very handy new potions. Potions that allow a male to bear children." He smiled at the disgusted looks on the Dursleys' faces. He flung the Cruciatus Curse at Petunia when she dared to call he and Harry freaks again. He released it fairly quickly, leveling a glare at all three of them. "I find that these potions present a unique opportunity that I will not pass up." He smiled again, the smile taking on an edge of insanity. "Think about it!" he said, taking a step closer to the bars of Petunia's cell. "A child born of two of the world's mightiest wizards: Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. The child would be exceptionally gifted, even stronger than the both of us, unrivaled by any other, he or she could do or be anything. They could be omnipotent. They could be a conqueror, a King or a Queen, an Emperor, a beacon of Wizarding civilization. Someone who could crush their enemies with ease, stomp on those who are beneath them. And if that child is mine, that would be everyone! Everyone would be beneath them. With them in the world, Magic will grow and flourish, it will prosper and shower the world with its gifts, creating more and more wizards and witches. Someday, Muggles like you will be a thing of the past, and humans will be as they should be; magical." He took a step back and took in a deep breath. "And it all starts with at least one extraordinarily powerful leader. Though, if I have any say in it, there will not be only one but several." He gave a mirthless laugh. "And if I can perfect my methods of immortality, Harry and I will both be around to see the world take the shape it is meant to be." With that, he smirked and turned away from the dumbstruck Muggles and left the Dursleys to hang in their cells, instead heading for the cells that held Harry's godfathers.
TBC
- 6
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- 8
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