Summary: AU after GOF. Fifteen-year-old Harry Potter expects his decomposing corpse to be used as a footstool after being kidnapped by Voldemort, but is kept alive. "Potter has no training of the mind. He will be very easy to break."
Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter", nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Characters: Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin
Warnings (for future chapters): Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Humiliation, Non-Con, Profanity, Violence
Author's Note: Be forewarned, this story is dark, and depressing. It does not have a happy beginning or middle, and I do not guarantee a happy ending. It is not my intent to portray Harry or Voldemort as sexy or sensual. It is not the aim of this story to have Harry kidnapped by Voldemort and raped by him, then have him fall in love with Voldemort and refuse to leave him. It is not, despite any and all indications, a 'master/pet' or BDSM story, though those interested in the lifestyle may find this to their liking, to a degree. I do not write non-con romance, or erotica; therefore, there will be no romance or erotica in this story. I do appreciate all feedback, but never ask for reviews, as a policy.
Chapter I: Desk
"Kitty, kitty, kitty!" Harry darted upstairs after the cat. He did not want her to find a way into his bedroom to get his owl – there had been enough bloodshed in the past few weeks, he was sure.
The Dursleys were cat-sitting. Mr. and Mrs. Grunnings of Grunnings' Drills had asked them to cat-sit their feline while they were on holiday in Bora Bora. Uncle Vernon was taking this as a huge honour, but Harry really didn't think that it was. After all, if Mr. Grunnings thought the Dursleys were that great, why not board the cat at a veterinarian clinic and take the Dursleys with them to Bora Bora?
All things kitty-duty had fallen to Harry. Aunt Petunia was deathly allergic, and Dudley was only interested in wanting to hang it up by its tail. Harry didn't mind the kitty – it provided him a much needed distraction.
The kitty had run into Dudley's room. Not that this surprised Harry much. Dudley's room was such a mess that it had probably been colonised by mice. Kitties loved mice.
"Kitty... kitty?" Harry brought his voice down to a whisper as he peered into Dudley's stinky room. Strictly speaking, he wasn't allowed in Dudley's room. He had never been allowed in Dudley's room, but Aunt Petunia would kill Harry if he just let the kitty shed all over Dudley's bed.
Dudley's room, once upon a time, had had blue walls and blue carpet. The blue walls, you could still see a bit of between the shelves of junk. The carpet had been buried under broken toys and empty sweet wrappers long ago.
The kitty was rubbing up against Dudley's unused desk, meowing insistently.
"Jenkins, let's get out of here," Harry whispered to the striped feline. "Dudley's bad news."
His heart stopped a moment when he spotted Dudley's big, clunky computer. He had heard from the Muggle world that computers were the wave of the future – That anything you needed to know, you could find on a computer.
Harry seriously doubted that he would find anything on Dudley's computer about Voldemort, especially because the young wizard had not the slightest clue how to use one. But the idea alone enticed him, and he took an eager step forward. After all, Dudley wasn't around, and Harry was desperate for some real news.
He stepped towards the desk, but a terrible stench stopped him.
"Ugh." Harry made a face. "What's Dudley keeping in that desk? If it's food, I'll kill him. I'm so tired of following his stupid diet plan–"
He opened a desk drawer to reveal two-day-old fish and chips from McRoy's – something Dudley was apparently saving for a rainy day.
"Oh, that's gross," Harry complained, as the kitty began to investigate. "Don't eat it, kitty – it's bad. It's–" He stopped short, before pulling something out from under the fish and chips wrappers.
It was a magazine – perfect for Dudley, because it seemed to be mostly pictures. But it wasn't a sports magazine like Quidditch Quarterly, or a kid's one like Beedlum and Goose, which all of the firsties were subscribed to.
No, it was a Muggle magazine – full of pictures of girls. Women. Women a lot older than Harry or Dudley. Old women. Like, twenty-five years old. Women wearing nothing but their knickers! Seriously! Not even a brassiere!
Harry had never seen a woman without a brassiere on before. He had also never seen a woman without knickers before. He had seen them in almost nothing, like that swimsuit poster Dean had on their dormitory wall last year. But that was almost nothing. …Harry decided that almost was a good word.
Harry had missed sex ed at Muggle school by going to Hogwarts where there was no such thing, but he had never felt like he was missing anything. After all, he knew what sex was, and the guys Harry roomed with talked dirty about girls all the time. Rumour had it that the first week of school, Snape had all the fifth-years brew 'don't-get-pregnant' potions.
But Harry had never actually seen or experienced sex before. And looking at Dudley's dirty magazine – the way those two ladies were going at it – he wasn't sure he wanted to.
He stood up, still grasping the magazine. Perhaps, if he was very lucky and took the magazine downstairs, Dudley would finally get busted.
"Diddy!" Aunt Petunia cried out as Dudley snatched the magazine from Harry's hands.
Harry slipped into the sitting room and looked out the window, searching the skies and streets, as Aunt Petunia screeched.
He had gotten a letter from Sirius a week ago that made mention of 'awfully wonderful', 'terribly amazing', 'fantastic' plans, but that also warned him not to get his hopes up, because there were risks and no guarantees.
That was pretty vague, but Harry trusted Sirius more than any other living person, except for maybe Dumbledore. If Sirius said it was wonderful, it was. Harry wished he had more clues as to what Sirius was talking about, though. He had been revealed to Harry as his innocent godfather, and had given him the best broomstick available in the UK. He couldn't think of anything more terrific than that, but having something to anticipate put some excitement into his life where there was none.
"Boy!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, waving the dirty magazine in Harry's face. The unblinking model on the cover looked weird to him, now that he had gotten used to moving photographs. "You had better explain yourself!"
Why was it that every time Harry tried to get Dudley in trouble, it backfired?
"I went into Dudley's room to get the kitty. I... um... a drawer was open, and I saw the–"
"You stole it!" Dudley accused, jamming a fat finger in Harry's face.
A normal, reasonable person would have ignored Harry's role in Dudley's magazine discovery, or even thanked him for discovering it. The Dursleys weren't like that.
"Stealing!" Aunt Petunia was still rambling when Harry bothered to listen again. "That's what they teach you at that no-good school? Well, now you've ruined our day! I can't leave you alone here – Vernon would be so angry if I left you alone to steal our valuables."
"Anger management classes might help." Harry received a slap for his comment on his uncle's anger issues.
"Mum!" Dudley whined, "We can't take him with us!"
Harry didn't want to go to the mall with the Dursleys, especially if Piers Polkiss was going. He didn't want to go in boring shop after boring shop, dreaming of the Galleons he had in his vault that he could spend on what he wanted in the wizarding world. He also didn't want to get pushed and shoved by Dudley and Piers, if he could avoid it.
No, he'd much rather stay put on Privet Drive.
But he didn't have much of a choice, and that was how the mess began – with a desk. A desk drawer. A disorderly desk drawer.
Harry hated desks.
Coming up next in Disorder...
Chapter II: Disappeared