I normally do not take 'fic challenges, mainly due to my own load of stories that I'm working on, my paying job, and college. But tonight, there was a challenge listed in the Caer Azkaban yahoo group. Rather than post the full wording of the challenge, I'll summarize.
'Write a story where a powerful "Super!Harry" gets caught by Voldemort, and has his mind locked. Voldie must have won the war because of this action, Albus is the court jester, Hermione is a sex slave, and Harry can't do anything, doesn't remember anything, etc, etc.'
That's the basic gist of it. Well with that said, I figured, what the hey, I've got a bit of time to kill, and nothing is coming to mind for any of my other stories, so I might as well do this. I swear, I was not planning on finishing this tonight. Heck, I wasn't even sure I'd do it. ...Apparently, it's done. .
The plot is similar to what the challenge stated, but I'll admit I took some creative liberties. Then again, when don't we authors do that? Anyway, I now leave you with this story.
"The King of the
by: Trey Miller
The steady, muted sounds of water running through bare pipes echoed hauntingly within the dimly lit room. It had, at one time, been part of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
'Had,' being the key word.
There was a single spotlight shining down on a stubby pedestal, on which sat an expertly crafted gold throne, detailed with lions and gryphon's and intricately carved runes. On this throne was a man in his early twenties, dressed in the finest robes money could by, a rich red furred mantle draped over his shoulders, and a splendid gold crown atop his head.
He was dressed as a proper king of old.
However, the crown belied its true nature. It did not merely rest on his head, but was fused to the throne, runes flowing from one to another.
His green eyes, who people had once said could see the soul when he looked at someone intensely, were dulled, almost milky. His black hair, which had once been short and unkempt, now flowed over his shoulders, streaked with gray.
On the back of the throne, above his head, was an ebony plate embossed with gold lettering that read:
Harry Potter- King of the Light
It was obvious to any who saw this that Voldemort held a special type of cruel and malicious humor towards the similarities between how people perceived the supposed Son of God, Jesus Christ, and the supposed Savior of Light, Harry Potter.
Five years prior, Voldemort had won when he wasn't supposed to. As cliché as it sounded, the man once known as Tom Riddle had only won due to a long-lasting situation that no one, not even the great Albus Dumbledore, had foreseen.
The connection between Ginny Weasley and the diary Horcrux had held an unknown ability. It had linked Ginny's mind to Voldemort's. This had allowed him to seize control repeatedly and set things up for Harry's downfall.
Tom had known that Harry's training had lead him to being stronger than Dumbledore, his magic much more refined, and his mind calm and at ease due to pensive-delivered teaching in Occlumency. He had realized that this prepared Harry Potter could easily be his downfall.
And so rather than attempt to beat the younger light wizard with age and experience, he struck in such a way that no one was prepared.
With supplies gathered by other students under the servitude of Lord Voldemort, the possessed Ginny crafted the throne and crown in the Room of Requirement. The runes were carved and stained with her blood, and then the crown was prepared.
A week before the Christmas break during their seventh year, the possessed Ginny placed the crown upon Harry's brow during supper. Harry had attempted to fight the effect long enough to look at Ginny and gasp out the name of the one really in control of the youngest Weasley's body before he succumbed and disappeared. He had reappeared, seated on the throne in the middle of the Great Hall, dressed as he would forever.
Harry Potter was a man trapped within his own mind, guarded and protected from all mental and physical assaults by the blood-soaked runes.
Within hours, Voldemort had claimed Hogwarts, bending a broken Albus to submission and enslaving both Ginny and Hermione, as well as all other supposed blood traitors and mudbloods to be personal slaves for any and all Death Eaters.
And thus, the wizarding world had fallen.
Harry had seen everything. He had cried, and screamed, raged, and attempted to cast spell after spell. When that had failed, he had attempted to simply force his magic to react. But it never did. He realized that his magic was actually powering the chair, ignoring him.
Voldemort revealed to Harry, privately later, that he had never intended to allow Harry to see what was happening. The runes had been designed and placed so as to simply rip out Harry's consciousness and leave him in a vegetative state. However, the irony of an immortal, immobile, living statue was such that he no longer cared.
After a year of being in the presence of Voldemort's court, he had been moved to his permanent home in the dungeons, off from the slave quarters, down near end of a hall. Voldemort said it was because he was bored at seeing the 'King of Light.'
At first, the slaves had massed around him, weeping at his feet, crying for him to return, wishing and praying for him to save them. But then the numbers dwindled, and dwindled, and dwindled, until there were only four people who would visit.
Albus was now Voldemort's court jester, controlled by a set of runes that not only limited ones power, but lengthened their life, at the cost of their will. In the past years though, he had been more relegated to being nothing more than a human dog, or a foot stool. He told Harry of the better days, of his plans and his theories. He always apologized for not ridding the world of Voldemort before.
Hermione, one of the sex slaves, originally used and abused repeatedly, had since then stopped being so popular with the Death Eaters. There were other, fresher muggle girls who would sate their lusts. As such, she became something of the slave-mum, always taking care of the younger, newer ones.
Luna, another of the sex slaves, had been tortured repeatedly, with the Death Eaters going so far as to remove her eyes and burn off both legs and one arm at the knees and elbow, respectively. She was taken care of by Hermione and routinely told Harry stories of fantastic beasts, returning kings, and the possible futures. It was pure chance that Voldemort had never learned that there was a potential seer as a slave.
The fourth was the biggest surprise. Draco Malfoy would visit when he knew no one would be around. He spoke about what Voldemort was doing, what rebellions were occurring, and the fact that while he would never change his ideals, he did not like what had been done to Harry.
Other than when one of those four was around, Harry's mind had slowly been fading. Gone from his memory were the years with the… Dimply's? Doories? Dustly's? He couldn't even remember them. He couldn't even remember that friend who Hermione and Luna mentioned when talking about his past, Ron.
He heard the soft scraping of wooden wheels on stone, and the even softer padding of feet. So it was time for one of his visits. From the sound, he recognized that Hermione and Luna were coming. They would be able to remind him of what he had forgotten.
As they entered his faded and out of focus vision, he tried to force himself to see better, and failed.
"Hey, Harry. We're back." Yeah, it was Hermione. She started every conversation like that. "Bad news, the Death Eaters successfully overcame Canada and part of the northern United States. This morning we received seven new girls. Three of them aren't even 11 yet!" She sniffled, and he could hear the sound of Luna patting the other girls' hand.
Luna spoke, "Now, Hermione, you know that there's nothing we can do about that. All we can hope for is that our king will be free one of these days."
Harry listened closely as Luna told Harry a story of another possible future. Another where he broke the bonds the chair held over him and fought. He listened to Hermione tell him that Voldemort had finally tracked down and killed Fred and George Weasley.
He listened as they told him good bye, that they would visit him before the next day. The anniversary of the Fall.
The Fall. It was going to be exactly five years.
Harry realized that this would probably be the last year his mind was still sharp enough to focus and the fight.
So he fought.
In a dimly lit hall in the dungeons of what had once been the most famous magic school in all of Europe sat a raised throne under a single bright light.
The acclaimed 'King of the Light' sat on the throne, runes glowing dimly under the light.
A single rune, at the back of the crown, molded into the chair began to glow red, the gold began to grow softer.
His milky eyes seemed to dimly glow with an internal green light.