Summary: Harry returned to Hogwarts after defeating Lord Voldemort. No one knows the exact details of the fall of the Dark Lord or what happened to Harry during his two months in Death Eater captivity. The result however was Harry's inability to control his magic. Dumbledore, believing he was doing the right thing, bound Harry's magic, and because of that betrayal, Harry flees to the Chamber of Secrets where he is unwittingly pulled into the distant past. Harry/Salazar.
Chapter 1: Gone
The dinnerware was rattling on the wood tables, and the candles were threatening to flicker out. I breathed deeply, trying very hard to remain calm. After all, they were only curious… every hour, minute, second, of every single day, trying to squeeze every last bloody detail from me. All I wanted was to be left alone. Why couldn't anyone understand that? Could they not see what was happening to me? That I could explode at any minute?
My ability to control my magic has been slipping. When I got irritated or angry, things burned, broke, boiled, shattered, flew, exploded… I have been banned from the potions classroom, the hospital wing, the library, the Quidditch pitch, and the greenhouse. Next I will probably be banned from the premises. Though graduation was in a few days, and it would no longer matter.
Right now it looked as though the dinnerware would need replacing again.
A plate cracked down the middle and a gravy boat rocked off the table, spilling grey-brown sauce and pieces of porcelain over the stone floor. A girl screamed as her glass of pumpkin juice tipped over and stained her skirt, although that might have been her doing.
"Harry!" Hermione scolded, as though it was my fault, like I could control what happened. Sometimes I hated her constant mother henning; like she could do better in my situation.
"No more questions," I whispered, almost pleadingly.
"Jeez, sorry you can't be bothered," Seamus wrinkled his nose in annoyance. He had been pestering me day and night for the last week about Voldemort's demise. Even thinking about that monster made my teeth grind in anger, and of course, when I got angry, bad things happened. I stood from my seat, knowing my dinner would need to be cut short before I invited an apocalypse down on the Great Hall.
Deciding on a detour, I thought it might be nice to visit the room of requirement. It was an ideal place to go when I was stressed and needed to calm down. My thoughts were so intent on getting to the room that I had neglected to notice that Ron had followed me out of the hall. Therefore, I was taken by surprise when a large hand gripped my shoulder and spun me around so fast I thought I would fall. His face was flushed, so I knew he was frustrated with me. That frustration had been building ever since my return to Hogwarts.
"What's your problem?" the red head glowered, and I looked up at him with a bored expression.
"I just want to be left alone."
"Oh, so you want to be left alone," his tone was one of false incredulity, "You disappear for two months without a word to anyone, then you turn up and the Dark Lord's dead? You won't answer a single question, and anytime someone says something you end up nearly burning them to death!"
"It isn't my fault! I can't-,"
"Look, mate," Ron interrupted, "I know you can't control it, but you have to talk to someone. You need to stop distancing yourself from everyone."
"I don't want people around me, always pestering me about how I defeated that monster." I spoke with such hatred that Ron took a step back. "He's gone, and it's over." All of the paintings were wrenched from their walls and there came outraged cries as the frames clattered to the floor.
I ran for it.
In the owlery, I felt safe, calm. There was no one to ask questions and no one to expect answers. Hedwig balanced on my knee while I fed her an owl treat. Sometimes she liked to get me presents, dead mice and the like. It was always a strange experience finding one of her "gifts" on my pillow or in my shoe. I really never had the heart to tell her I did not eat mice.
"My dear boy, I am so glad to have found you." An airy and old voice carried strongly but softly over the quite hooting from the owls. I looked up and as I expected, Dumbledore stood above me in his star patterned robe, white beard, twinkling eyes, and all.
"Was there something you wanted sir?" My tone was ungrateful, certainly, but I knew the man would take no offense. Or at least not show it.
"I think I may have found something that will help with your accidental magic." My eyes widened at his words, and a feeling of hope entered me like I had not felt in months.
The expected lemon drop was offered, and as expected, I refused. My fingers tugged at the hems of my robe sleeves nervously. I could not explain why I felt a thick and heavy dread descend upon me.
"Sir, did you really find a way to stop my magical outbursts?" My voice faltered, and I mentally kicked myself for sounding so pathetic.
"There is one way," Dumbledore pulled from his desk drawer a small silver box, his gnarled fingers caressing the edges as though it were some great relic. I could not help but shiver while I watched those ancient hands carefully lift the lid and set it aside.
Inside was a tarnished silver band, its surface quite smooth without embellishments or design; thick and dense; heavy and cold. I watched Dumbledore lift it from the box only touching it about the outer edge with his thumbs and forefingers. "This will help control the accidental magic. Your wand hand, Harry." Hesitantly, I offered my hand. I trusted Dumbledore, but something in his clear blue eyes made me uncertain. Why should he do anything to hurt me?
Of course I was horribly wrong. Naïve, I was such an idiot to think that Dumbledore would never hurt me. Everyone hurts me. I should have seen this coming. One would think I might have learned my purpose by age four growing up with the Dursleys. Harry Potter is just a tool, something to have around only when he's useful. The moment that silver ring closed around my wrist, I understood the cold blue eyes, and a wave of ice washed over me.
I had worn out my usefulness, and it was time to throw me away.
"What…" I gasped, in regret and pain, "what have you done?" I tore my hand away, and somehow in this growing shock and despair, I knew it was too late.
"This is for the good of the magical world, Harry," Dumbledore's attempts to soothe me were failing miserably, "The minister has given approval, and you shall be-,"
"No! Give it back!" I demanded, "My magic! Give it back!"
"silencio." The headmaster waved his wand, and abruptly my sound was cut off. I tried to scream, and when that didn't work I stood up prepared to tear open his skin and kill the bastard. He took it! It was gone. With another wave of his wand I was restrained in the chair with thick coils of rope. The silver band was burning my skin. "Harry, calm down."
"The Ministry has approved that your magic should be blocked. This will protect the students and keep you from causing anymore damage."
"You should be grateful that you will no longer need to fear harming those close to you. Harry you have to understand…" He trailed off, probably realizing that his words were doing little to help the situation.
"I have decided to relocate you to a safe location while you are recovering…" He tried again, but it was useless.
I no longer heard what he said. This betrayal… this theft… I think he must have noticed my lack of concern for what he was saying, that or he could feel the hatred burning beneath my skin. He released the spells with a simple finite incantatem and helped me to the door. I was still in shock; the loss of my magic had been like severing a limb, like severing all of them. I felt useless, and hurt.
"I am going to kill you, Albus." I said quietly. But his only response was to pat my shoulder lightly and send me away. Somehow, I had to leave. There was no way I was going anywhere with anyone from the Ministry. They were frightened of their chosen one now that he wasn't fighting off dark lords and Death Eaters. Then it occurred to me that Dumbledore must also be frightened.
Merlin, have mercy on them, for if I ever found a way, I would punish them all. Now I suddenly felt a stab of empathy for Tom Riddle, the man he had been before he went completely insane. If he had not been a sociopath bent on killing every person on the planet, I thought I might have been able to sympathize with him.
I needed to leave Hogwarts, and while I was at it, the magical world all together. More or less, I had been demoted to the status of squib, and until I found a way to remove this blasted silver band, I would have to go into hiding.
I tried to pull my wand out from my robes, but found that my hand could not touch it, like it was being repelled by a magnet. I swore loudly, and stalked to the second floor.
Fine, I thought, let them try. They can all just sod off and go mad trying to find me. They won't be able to get to me, even if they know where I am. Frustrated, I wiped the tears from my cheeks and wrenched the girl's toilet open. I needed a place to think, a place to plan, and a place to hide. A place to scream and rage and cry and hurt and…
God I wanted to die. How could he?
"Open" I hissed and the entrance appeared. Without a glance at Moaning Myrtle I leapt down the pipe in to the dark, dank chamber.