Title: Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die?
Beta: Celena Amunet
Pairings: Voldemort/Harry (eventually), mild not-so-one-sided Severus/Lucius
Warnings: Okay, if you have a problem with my pairings and are still reading this after my warning, well as far as I'm concerned you have no rights… There's some mildly graphic TORTURE in this chappie and lots of cruelty.
Summary: Eventual HPLV. After the events of OotP Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursley's escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Voldemort's followers come for him, the idea of torture isn't too unpleasant when it's at the hands of those who don't pretend to care.
A/N: Gah, I can't even begin to apologize for my awful updating. My only excuse is extremely writer's block. If anyone is still with me I'll love you forever. But yes, I hope you like the chapter! I've lost track of my review responses, so if I haven't responded to you, I am so sorry.
I also apologize in advance for the Latin in this chapter, I made up a spell or two and my Latin is by no means the best…
RECAP! (I'm hoping this isn't going to become an every chappie thing):
Vols, now in Tom Riddle form due to a potion and his own regenerative magic, was having trouble sleeping because a certain Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die was angsting non-stop. So devised a plan to snatch said boy. The plan was unneeded as Harry was so depressed and apathetic that he just walked off with the 'bad guys' without a fight. So now a captive, the boy was subjected to the 'cruelties' of sharing a room and a bed with his nemesis. Vols, finding himself strangely enraged by the boy's home-life went to abduct Harry's relatives. Later after an angsty shouting fight, Vols decided to 'go make something hurt' and Harry went for a walk around the manor. On his walk, the boy ran into Draco Malfoy, who ruined poor Harry's life even more.
So that's the recap! If any of you lovelies are still confused, go back and reread.
And now (drum roll…) THE CHAPPIE!!!
Petunia Dursley lay curled in a ball in the corner of a very small cell.
Though she had been alone with her son for quite some time, she could not stop her thoughts and memories as the swirled in her head. Dudley had stopped trying to comfort her hours ago. He thought that she was just upset about her broken feet. But the true cause of her racking shivers, which had set her to seek the fetal position, was the utter terror of their situation.
Of course at first her cries had been caused by the excruciating pain of having her feet crushed by some vice of unseen power. But when her tormenters had finally trailed out and she was left unmolested, the true horror of her situation had descended upon her.
Even in her near hysteria, she still remembered how mortified she had been when she realized that her brilliant boy did not share her horror. Dudley seemed so rooted in the present that all he understood was that the 'bad men' were gone and that made everything okay.
Petunia shivered violently.
She had been such a blind fool.
The woman held no illusions now. She didn't wonder why this was happening; she didn't even try to pretend.
Petunia had always pretended that she didn't notice the outright violence with which her husband and son had treated her nephew. But she had never imagined that it would lead to this.
Apparently her nephew had more connections than they had ever guessed.
An unwanted sound of distress pushed its way from her. Somehow she couldn't help but feel that she deserved this torment. There was no doubt in her mind that they had brought this on themselves.
The woman's despairing thoughts were broken off as a gurgling moan sounded from the cell across the corridor. She painfully pushed up onto her hands and out of her curled position.
Petunia turned slowly towards the cell that held her husband.
She gazed at him sadly as he continued to gurgle and thrash. He had been spasming on and off for hours now.
Before any of the men had come in to torture her or her son, a grim man with sallow skin and flowing black robes had come limping to Vernon's cell. She remembered a strange feeling of recognition, almost as if she had seen the man once before. But he had whisked in quickly, poured some concoction down her husband's throat, and left without a word.
Shortly after that, Vernon's eyes had glazed over and a look of absolute horror had settled over him.
It had yet to leave him.
The first time he had begun to thrash and scream, Petunia had been so terrified that she had started sobbing. But as it happened again and again she had lost her terror of it and now all that was left was crushing despair.
Now her husband was unable to scream. All his throat would allow him was a high pitched gurgle.
Petunia felt another tear slip out.
Even though this man had most likely earned them their punishment in this place with his abuse, she still loved him.
His pain made her ache.
She flinched as she heard a heavy metal door suddenly clang open from just out of sight. Her son let out a tortured whimper and Petunia felt herself freeze in absolute terror.
She stared fixedly out into the corridor between cells as she heard footfall approach.
To her shock, it was not one of the men from earlier, but the young man who had taken them from their home. He glowered into their cell and with a wave of his hand opened the door and stepped in.
The dark-haired young man smiled almost pleasantly as she looked at him, obviously examining him. After about a minute, the woman came to a conclusion.
This young man was not one to be trifled with. And somehow, despite his harmless appearance, she knew that he was also mercilessly cruel.
Petunia's racking shivers began again..
He shrugged off his outer robe and tossed it to the side. Underneath the bulky thing, the dark-haired man was rather slim. He wore a pair of black slacks and a nice, white button-up shirt. Had the circumstances been different, Petunia might have actually taken a moment to admire the young man's attractiveness.
As the man pushed up his sleeves, Petunia's attention was drawn to her son. The boy heaved himself to his feet still sounding winded from his earlier ordeal. She felt all the color drain from her face when Dudley sneered.
"It's the man from yesterday…"
Said man gave the boy a rather bored look but Dudley continued. "He doesn't seem all that tough," her son paused and looked like he had come to some conclusion. "He looks like Harry." Dudley spit to the side in disgust and Petunia's mouth dropped open in shocked horror.
She glanced at their captor and could feel his outrage. But her son obviously sensed no danger because he went on.
"I bet he's a queer like the freak too"
She looked back to the man just in time to see his eyes glow with cold fury. He had such deep, bloody eyes; Petunia was shocked by the bright color of them. The young man's reactions did not bode well for her foolish son.
Dudley opened his mouth again; no doubt to spew more insults and Petunia could not let him go on.
"Be quiet Dudley" she heard herself nearly hiss.
The boy's mouth froze in shock, his mouth still hanging open. She had never used such a tone when speaking to him. He probably had also never heard her call him anything but a pet name before.
The young man smirked viciously.
"Smart woman" he muttered just barely within her hearing.
The young man reached behind his back and pulled out his wand. After his entrance into their cell, she now knew that it was only to scare them more. But seeing the tactic for what it was didn't stop it from working.
The man raised his wand and pointed it at her boy. Again she found herself speaking without intending to.
"Please…" she trailed off shocked that she had spoken.
The young man glanced at her, eyebrow raised, but didn't move his wand. Dudley was now plastered against the wall looking suitably terrified.
Petunia stole a quick glance at her still gurgling husband. "Please S-sir…" she continued meekly, "would you tell me what has been done to my husband…" she paused, uncertain, but pushed on when she saw that she still held his attention. "I know it's bold for one in my position… but please Sir?"
The dark-haired young man glanced behind himself, over at Vernon, looking very much like he was trying to decide whether to ignore her plea or not. He narrowed his eyes for a moment and then an extremely sadistic and satisfied grin stole over his face.
He lowered his wand and turned back to her, grin still in place. Petunia felt a chill of terror clutch at her spine.
"Ah" he breathed, "That has to be one of my favorite potions that I ever created…" If at all possible, his grin seemed to take on an even more malicious edge.
He began toying with his wand and continued, "Would you like to know what it does?"
Despite his cheerfully sadistic words, the woman found her eyes being drawn to the young man's long, sensual fingers as he twirled and played his wand between them. He almost seemed to caress it, that weapon of death. She shivered in involuntary horror; not even questioning how she knew it was a weapon of death.
Suddenly Petunia had a feeling that she knew who this young man was, but the prospect was so awesomely terrible that she couldn't even put words to the thought.
She was saved from any dangerous notions as the young man huffed. The woman refocused her gaze on him and was struck dumb as mild pout took over the young man's expression.
"You know you really are no fun…" he sighed, "It makes it rather difficult for an evil genius to give a good villain speech if you drop your lines. You were supposed to say-" he put on a girly voice, "Oh, oh! What does it do, Mr. Terrible Dark Lord!?"
Petunia, still speechless, merely stared at him in utter shock.
He rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose I'll tell you anyways, despite the fact that you make a terrible audience" the sadistic grin was back in full force. "It really is nasty…"
The young man waited for a moment, apparently hoping for some kind of response and then continued with a slight frown.
"Well in essence, it really is very simple. It shows you the sum of all your thoughts and all your fears." He chuckled, "It shows you where all the landmines are…" The dark-haired man grinned viciously but when she obviously didn't understand what he was getting at he rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like, "Oh Salazar…"
He attempted another explanation, "It shows you every possible horrific result of all the decisions you've ever made… Every mistake, every foolish decision, every cruelty. You see scenario after hideous scenario, all the worst consequences of your actions, every one of them a crushingly possible future." He grinned brightly as his words were punctuated by an anguished gurgle from the other cell.
His grin took on a very satisfied twist as he saw dawning horror on her face.
The young man waited another moment to see if he would get any more of a response from her and he turned back to Dudley.
He raised his wand, sadistic grin still in place.
"Now… On to business…" He paused a moment and licked his lips.
Petunia jumped as ropes of energy leapt out of the man's wand and bound her son tightly. Her hand flew to her mouth. The woman didn't want to watch what the man was about to do, but she couldn't turn her eyes away.
The boy immediately began crying and gasping, terrified to be so suddenly restricted.
Still looking immensely happy, the dark-haired man tapped his chin.
"Now what should I do to you first?" he spun his wand between the fingers of his other hand thoughtfully.
Dudley wailed in response.
A terrifyingly malicious expression blossomed on the young man's face.
"I know what I'll start with…" Dudley's sounds of distress instantly gained new volume.
The boy flinched but looked up in confusion when nothing happened immediately.
Petunia turned her attention to the man's wand, also rather confused.
She had been expecting something flashy or immediately violent like the spells that the men from before had cast, but instead the tip of the wand merely glowed an ominous white.
Her poor son was still so dumbstruck that he didn't even react as the man approached him.
"Now this may sting a bit…" The young man chuckled to himself and casually touched the tip of his wand to her son's arm.
Dudley immediately let out an ear-piercing, high-pitched wail and a sickly burning smell filled the cell.
Her mouth fell open, aghast and new tears flooded down her cheeks.
He was branding her baby.
The boy continued to wail as the young wizard traced patterns up his arm and moved to his chest burning through his shirt and to his skin. The dark-haired man burned stars, hearts, scary ghouls, zig-zags, curly things, and all sorts of other random, awful shapes into her poor boy's skin. She wanted to gag or cry out or even just look away, but she couldn't.
Every single shape was scorched into her mind just as surely as it was on his skin.
Just as she was sure she would go mad from the sound and the taste and the smell of it, suddenly the young man stepped away and cocked his head. He looked at her boy as if admiring his work.
Petunia put her hands to her face, digging her fingernails into her cheeks and squeezing her eyes shut.
She must have let out some sort of wounded noise because she soon felt a heavy gaze on her face.
She cracked open her eyes and found herself meeting those bloody eyes. There was strange frown on his face as if he were somehow extremely frustrated. Petunia tried to ignore the sounds of pain coming from Dudley.
"Now, now my dear, that was nothing really." He paused a moment, "Certainly not something to whimper so pathetically about. But don't worry…"
Her eyes widened and his expression took on a sort of twisted smile. She had quickly learned that any reassuring words he gave were to be feared.
"…I'll give you something that's truly worthy of such a whimper…"
Before she could react to that, he raised his wand towards her.
Suddenly she found herself being flipped upside-down and – PAINPAINPAINPAIN – she could hardly breathe as pain shot through her entire body from her injured foot that she seemed to be hanging from – PAINPAINPAINPAIN – a sob was ripped from her every time she shifted and a new wave of unbearable pain washed through her. – PAINPAINPAINPAIN – She took a cautious breath. It seemed that – PAINPAINPAINPAIN – after the initial pain, there were moments where she could think through the pain. It was only – PAINPAINPAINPAIN – every once in a while that it built up to the point where she couldn't take it. As long as she tried not to – PAINPAINPAINPAIN – move.
She couldn't see very well, but after a few minutes she watched as the man turned away from her and back to Dudley. She couldn't quite see what he was doing but soon her son was screaming again and Petunia heard her own wail rise to meet his.
This exertion, though small, sent another excruciating wave through her and it must have been too much for her to handle because the next thing she knew she was hitting the ground.
She gasped in pain and lay where she had fallen for a few minutes. She could hear soft crying which she immediately identified as her son's.
Petunia pried her eyes open and another sob was ripped from her as she took in the sight that greeted her.
Her baby boy was slumped in the corner covered in angry burns, bruises and lacerations that were still sluggishly bleeding. His clothing was ripped and charred. He hardly even looked like himself.
When the boy noticed her watching him, he stifled his tears and scrubbed at his eyes with a closed fist. Clearly he had been unbound. He had probably meant to appear strong for her, but somehow had just made himself seem even more pathetic.
They looked at each other for a while until suddenly Dudley seemed to puff himself up. He turned and glared at the young man, Petunia had missed that he was still in the cell. He was leaning against a wall watching them both and his eyes narrowed in response to Dudley's change of expression.
Her boy was now attempting to pull himself up off the ground and failing miserably
Petunia felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. She had no idea what Dudley was thinking, but she was certain it was foolish. She opened her mouth to caution against any rash actions, but the dark-haired man raised his hand, gave her a pointed look and she found she could utter nothing.
He fully intended to allow the boy to damn himself with whatever foolish thoughts he had in his head.
Dudley had given upon trying to stand, but he wasn't giving up entirely.
"You think you're so great, but you're just like my freak of a cousin, you're nothing!" at this point Dudley was red in the face from exertion and gasping. "If you think what you've done to me so far is torture then you're a fat-headed idiot! I've done worse things to the freak myself!" again gasping, "Anyways, you should be scared! Someone will have called the authorities, and when they find you, you're gonna pay you bastard!" he sneered.
Petunia realized her hand had pressed to her mouth in horror during her son's rant but didn't bother to remove it. Her eyes flashed to their torturer.
His mouth had a hard set to it and his body was tense. She expected him spout some snide comment or shout or storm out or do any number things. She did not expect what he did do.
So quickly that she could hardly register it, her boy started shrieking and his belly opened up to let out his insides. They were falling from him with wet plops and blood was everywhere. She watched, utterly frozen as, at first, he tried to gather his innards back into himself and then started to writhe on the filthy ground, scream after awful scream torn from his despairing throat. Screaming and screaming. Why wasn't she screaming? What was wrong with her that she watched him gasp and shudder and finally lay still and quiet and made no sound of her own?
She sat frozen in shock, completely disbelieving.
Her sweet, foolish baby was dead.
But before she could dwell on that fact she was distracted by a sound from her torturer. Her head snapped around to look at him.
The young man began to walk towards the cell door with a musing frown on his face, when he reached the door he suddenly stopped and turned back towards her.
"Oh, by the way dear, I do believe I sensed a bit of magical potential in you today…" With this said he nodded and walked out of the cell and down the corridor looking oddly disturbed.
Even in her shock, Petunia knew that his disquiet had nothing to do with a guilty conscience.
And at that moment that she heard the heavy metal door clang open and then shut, a low moan pushed it's way out of her and it continued to rise higher and higher until she felt scream after awful scream being torn from her own despairing throat. Screaming and screaming….
AN: Whew, that was incredibly difficult to write. I've never written anything quite like it and I hope that doesn't show… but yesyes! Please tell me what you thought my lovelies. I'm dying for you feedback!
And to my dear Beta: I tried to address all of you comments, though a few of them were left as is. But I hope you like the end result anyways!