A/N: Thank you for reading Infliction, and I hope you enjoy the story. All you really need to know is that Voldemort is still in spirit form and won't have a real spot in this. Also, the better parts of the story start next chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Harry Potter glared at the matron of Cole's Orphanage. He'd had to deal with the oppressive woman ever since his sorry excuse for relatives had dumped him here for being a "freak".

How wrong they were, Harry thought.

Right now, he was truly wondering whether or not it was worth getting revenge on John Miller. Even though the boy had been an obnoxious bully the second Harry had arrived, getting a tongue lashing from the matron more than made up for it. It's not like they could prove that the green eyed boy had done anything. He hadn't so much as touched the older boy.

Around his seventh birthday, about two years after he had been left at this godforsaken place, Harry had been attacked by Miller and several of his lackeys. By the time they were finishing, it had felt like some sort of mental barrier had snapped inside of him. When they were beginning to take things too far, Harry began to want them to feel pain.

One of the teenagers found each of the boys writhing in pain around little Harry, who had a myriad of cuts and bruises. Although there was no physical harm to the boys, each had taken extra steps to keep on Harry's good side. Except for John Miller, of course. The idiot didn't seem to notice that whenever he annoyed the small boy bad things happened to him.

This time it was a snapped arm. And the Matron, who had grown somewhat used to the injuries that always seemed to happen to Miller, immediately suspected Harry.

She was right of course, but, since she had no evidence, he wasn't about to tell the truth. Not that he actually knew how he did it, except that he had to want something very badly. Normally it was merely for the other orphans to feel pain or to leave him alone, but he'd noticed that weird things happened whenever he got mad.

As much as he wished he could force the Matron to leave him alone, he had a feeling that the Matron rolling around in pain would attract a bit of attention. Attention that he certainly didn't need. So for now, he just retreated into his thoughts as the old woman interrogated him.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, how did Mr. Miller's arm get broken?"

Harry responded in his normal way. Adopting as innocent a façade as he could, and softening his normally hard green eyes, he replied.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I don't know how John's arm got broken. Maybe you should ask him," he said, pointing at a smug looking John, "he's the one with the broken arm, after all."

The Matron pursed her lips and sighed, suddenly looking much older than before. Waving her arm towards the orphanage's garden, she spoke to him.

"Mr. Potter, please just do…something." Harry began to smile inwardly at being let off. "We will speak more on this later, however."

Harry silently cursed, but nevertheless left outside. Maybe Apep would be outside today. The eight year old smiled at the thought of his only friend. Apep, a small garden snake, was his only friend. To be honest, Harry had no interest in making human friends. He merely had no interest in doing so.

From his experience, humans always wanted something. He would rather have no friends and respect and fear instead of fools attempting to befriend him for protection. Apep, however, was different. He had no need of anything Harry had, thus there was no fear that the serpent would try to manipulate him.

Whistling softly, he walked out into the garden. It was a large place, and had more weeds than actual plants, but it was the only place the boy could find privacy. And privacy was something Harry valued highly.

Slowly, he turned around, making sure no one was hiding. It was an accepted fact at the orphanage that he was different, but no one needed to see him speaking to a snake. Although the orphanage might be hell, an asylum would be far, far worse.

After another quick scan of the garden, Harry began to search for his friend. He poked around in the tall weeds, and overturned several rocks. Still nothing.

Finally, after twenty minutes of methodically searching the garden, Harry gave up. He decided that he would have to call his friend. Although he didn't like having to call Apep, since the snake generally liked to test his cunning by forcing the boy to find him, sometimes it was necessary. Harry cursed the snake; sometimes Apep was too good at hiding.

"Come here, Apep," Harry hissed, "You've won the game. Now come out!"

Harry called for his friend several more times, growing slightly worried. He'd never known for Apep to leave the garden, and the serpent would always come when asked.

The boy shrugged before going back inside. Maybe he was just out hunting.

When Harry walked into the dark hallway that led to his room, he froze. Outside of his door, several large figures were waiting. He groaned, they looked to be some of John's lackeys, and would definitely try to get revenge on him. Even though Harry always seemed to get out of trouble relatively unscathed, he didn't want to risk the Matron finding out about multiple "incidents" in a single day. He was skating on thin ice right now, and he knew it.

Harry decided to wait for a few minutes before trying to get to his room. If they didn't leave, he might as well deal them their punishment sooner rather than later.

The boy decided to walk around the orphanage some more. He was always able to hear Apep inside even the noisiest of rooms, so it might help. If he didn't hear his beloved serpent anywhere he could simply return to his room.

Harry sighed in disappointment as he walked through the orphanage. He had walked through every single damned room in this moldering, decrepit, building and he'd not heard a single peep out of Apep. When he found the serpent, he would lock him in a cage for making him so worried. The snake would probably end up amused though…

Damn it, thought Harry.

He shrugged. Apep would make his way to him eventually. Sometimes all that was required for a task was patience, after all. After so many years in the brutal orphanage, patience was something Harry possessed in abundance. Revenge wasn't a hasty matter, after all.

Harry walked back to his room, smirking as the other children scampered in front of him. Being feared was quite useful, if he said so himself. Kept the idiots away from him, at least.

Finally, Harry grew bored. If the fools were still skulking around his door, he would simply have to teach them their place. He did have an active imagination, and he made sure to put it to good use. That was why he loved his "freakishness" so much; it gave him ways to exercise his will that he never would have been able to do otherwise. The children that were terrified him only existed as a bonus.

He sneered- a terrible expression on such a young face- as he stepped into the hallway. The idiots were still there, despite everything he had done to them in the past.

Then a delighted smirk crossed his face. This was the perfect chance to try some new ideas!

He snuck up behind them and coughed. Harry snickered as two of them fell down, while the other jumped a foot in the air.

"So, what brings you idiots here today? Surely my door isn't the best place for you fools to hang out at, is it?"

The one who had jumped- who seemed to be substituting as the leader in John's absence- sneered at him. He was noticeably muscular, which had to be the reason he was the leader. Harry highly doubted that any of them had more than several brain cells anyways.

"Just go in the room, freak. John told us to leave a present for ya."

Harry began to be concerned. Any sentence that had the name John in it would be trouble for him. The concern heightened when the louts started sniggering stupidly. He didn't particularly care about whatever present the fools had left him. It would most likely be a dead rat or something like that, and those had stopped having an effect on him long ago. Having a snake companion would do that to you.

What concerned him was that the fools were so excited. He had been surprised to learn that they could even have an emotion that complex, and to see them so gleeful was worrying. In the end, he simply shrugged and walked in, keeping a careful eye on the three eleven-year olds. Harry wouldn't put it past them to try and attack him while his back was turned. If they were able to understand excitement, than they might have evolved from complete idiots to having a sort of simple animal cunning.

Luckily, none of them tried to attack him. The boy continued to be wary as he walked into his bare room. If they had managed to get in, they might have another one of the idiots waiting to attack them.

Harry flipped the light switch. For a moment he merely looked over his room, not seeing anything until his emerald eyes landed upon the bed. He stared; for once not understanding something instantly.

Then he screamed in rage. With the image of his beloved serpent lying on the bed, torn in half burned into his young mind, he tore out of the room intent upon utterly destroying the fools.

They will suffer, he vowed to his rage clouded mind.

As he rushed into the hall, he saw the three bastards running away from him, laughing loudly. One turned back and yelled, "How did you like your present, freak? Is wittle Hawwykins gonna cry?"

Harry, burning in anger, didn't even notice as he wanted them to come back to him. He did notice when they came flying back with terrified yelps, and he did notice when he remembered his earlier promise. A sadistic grin was on his young face as he watched the three writhing on the floor in pain.

He allowed them to suffer for several minutes before letting them free. Harry smirked as he saw each of their tear-streaked faces. Although he would get his proper revenge later, and truly show them why you never messed with Harry Potter, now was a time for him to mourn his only friend. After giving the bastards one last contemptuous glance, he went into his room.

The Matron found the boys outside of Harry Potter's room one hour later, still whimpering in pain and terror. Horrified, she continued into the boy's room. What she found disturbed her almost as much as the broken boys outside did.

Harry Potter was sitting on his old bed, silently staring at a small black snake. She noticed that the snake had been ripped in half, and its blood covered Harry's plain sheets. What disturbed her most was that tear stains were on the boy's cheeks and clothes. Harry Potter had never cried; he had been nearly silent when he first arrived, despite the obvious neglect he had gone through. When he was hurt by the other children he merely glared at them.

The old Matron shivered as she was reminded of another case from her youth. A boy who had even looked similar to Harry, never got into trouble, was feared at a young age, and who also exhibited strange abilities.

Tom Riddle. The boy who had terrorized her as he grew older, and who left the moment he could, to never be heard from again. She could only hope that this child, who had become the bane of her existence in recent years wouldn't end up the same.

Clearing her throat, the Matron hesitantly called out for him to come with her. Surprisingly enough, he complied. That was more than enough for the Matron to tell that the boy was very upset. She shivered as she remembered the boys outside.

This time, she thought, she had to get him out of Cole's Orphanage.


Well, thought Harry, this isn't good.

After being found by the Matron, he'd been taken immediately to her office. He knew that he would likely get sent to a new orphanage, or even St. Brutus', if he was really unlucky. Although the damned old woman still couldn't prove he'd done anything to the idiots, she didn't seem to be letting that stop her. It seemed that he'd finally gone too far in his punishments.

Not that he regretted it, of course. They deserved it for what they did to Apep. Harry wished he'd kept himself from doing whatever he did to the bullies; it was a terribly rash thing to do. He should have mourned quietly for his friend, buried him, and then plotted a suitable revenge. Instead, he had caused them a lot of short-term pain, but nothing that wouldn't disappear in a few days. Harry began thinking of any schemes that would work before he was thrown out of the bloody orphanage.

Harry was yanked out of his mutterings by the Matron, who had decided to start off with her yelling. Although he was sure that the ancient woman had plenty of lovely things to say about him, he managed to tune her out. He might start listening when she told him where he would be going.

That was before she pulled out a meter-stick and smacked his hands, which had been tapping the sides of his chair idly. After letting out a short hiss of pain, and giving the old woman a baleful glare, he decided to pay attention. No matter what weird abilities he had, he needed to remember that she had a very painful wooden instrument at her disposal.

"Harry Potter! You will listen to me when I'm talking! From the day you arrived here, you've been nothing but trouble. Half the children are terrified of what you might do to them, and the other half already know. I don't know what you do to the poor dears, and I don't want to. What you need to know is that I have had enough of you." At that she stared coldly at him. Even Harry had to shiver at that stare. The Matron was known for having spent sixty years at the orphanage, and was normally a kind, if stern, woman. That she was being so hostile spelled very bad things for Harry, even if she couldn't prove a thing.

The Matron's kindness was probably the only reason why Harry had remained here for so long. Most orphanages would have thrown him out after the first few incidents, after all. That he had remained at Cole's for so long was a miracle in itself. But now, it seemed that the boy's luck had run out.

"As of today, papers are being filed with St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys in your name. By next week, you will be transferred there. I truly am sorry it has come to this, Harry."

Harry was slightly saddened, if not surprised. His real regret would be that he would have to inspire new fear into the boys at his new home. He had no intention of being terrorized.

He supposed he would miss this place, even if he hated it. It had been more of a home to him than the Dursleys had ever been. Another problem was that he only had a week to exact revenge.

Harry would make those bastards pay. If he was already being transferred away from Cole's, there was no point in being subtle. He'd already gone too far, a little more couldn't hurt him anymore.

It was with these thoughts that he gave a sad nod at the Matron before leaving the tiny, cramped office. While Harry was leaving, he heard a massive blasting sound coming from the entrance of the orphanage. He froze, and slightly frightened, he turned back to the Matron. Her eyes were slightly cold as they stared at him.

"Harry, did you have anything to do with this," said the ancient woman in a frighteningly calm voice.

"No ma'am," Harry said confusedly, "but should we go down?"

The Matron shook her head at the situation before answering in an affirmative. Harry followed curiously, wanting to see what could have possibly caused that noise. Normally it was him causing chaos, and he thought it would be interesting to see other people's ideas.

What he saw in the entrance hall more than shocked him. Harry heard the Matron let out a small gasp. For the first time in a while, the green-eyed boy was inclined to agree with her.

The entrance hall was a complete wreck; it looked like someone had set off a bomb inside of it. The two doors were blown off their hinges and were lying inside the middle of the hall. If that weren't surprising enough, there were oddly dressed people with masks on standing there, scanning their surroundings. Harry had to repress a snort as he saw them. Two of the trio were plainly men, and were for some reason wearing dresses. All of them, however were waving sticks around.

Amused by their antics, Harry listened in as the Matron was frozen in shock and fear. Personally, Harry didn't see what was so frightening about them. For one thing, they wore dresses. The only thing he personally found disturbing about them was their obvious insanity. Harry focused on the tallest one, who appeared to be a well-built man.

"Where is that damned boy?" The man hissed, "When we find the Master, he will reward us beyond measure for his greatest enemy!"

The second man, who looked and sounded very similar to the first, chastised the first man in a raspy voice.

"Don't be impatient, Rodolphus. We must not allow the boy to escape through carelessness on our part. For our Master to be whole again, we must have the boy first."

Harry winced as the last of the intruders spoke in an arrogant tone that seemed accustomed to being obeyed. The boy noticed a slight sense of insanity to it as well.

"We'll find the boy soon enough, dear husband. Then ickle baby Potter will be ours!" Harry shuddered a bit at the similarity to the bastards that killed Apep. He was beginning to creep away when the Matron let out a pitiful sounding whimper.

Damn it, thought the boy as the intruders twirled around to see the cause of the noise. If Harry could see past those bloody masks, he was sure that he would see delighted grins. The woman rushed forward while cackling madly.

"We found baby Potter! With a free toy as well!"

The second man, who Harry didn't know the name of, intervened.

"Bella, we don't have time for this. Grab the boy and let's leave. The Master is waiting." Harry glared silently at man as he aimed his stick at him. When a stream of red sparks erupted from the stick, Harry nimbly dodged once he got past his shock. For some reason, he didn't feel like getting hit by sparks. Particularly not when they came from a stick being waved around.

Silently, and ignoring the first man and woman, he willed the other man to hurt. He didn't want to be taken by madmen, particularly when he still had a week to exact his revenge. Maybe if he made the man hurt he would leave him alone.

He wasn't expecting for his power not to do anything. Harry narrowed his eyes anxiously at the man, confused.

A sense of desperation overcame him when the man sent another stream of sparks flying at him. Barely moving away in time, he looked at the man, who seemed to be getting agitated. When the man angrily said some strange word, cwucia or something, and an angry looking beam of scarlet light flashed at him, Harry knew he needed his power to work.

Focusing all his power and hatred towards the man, the boy was rather relieved when the man fell to the ground, writhing in utter agony. Harry couldn't help the sick smile that came over his face.

It was only there for a second before the scarlet light hit. Harry had always thought he could suffer any sort of pain after the constant fights in the orphanage. He had had black eyes, broken bones and plenty of other injuries, but nothing could ever have prepared him for this utter agony. It felt like every single injury that had ever felt was being redone to him over and over again, never getting a chance to rest. His blood felt like someone had filled it with molten lead, and he could feel his limbs spasm, slamming into the hard concrete floor.

He just wanted it to be over; he wanted his strange power to completely annihilate the man who did this to him. Harry continued to be in the hell for what felt like eternity, even though he knew it was only a few seconds. His only relief was the second screams of pain that erupted in tandem with his own. Finally, the man who put him into this hell released one final, bloodcurdling scream before going quiet.

Harry realized that he had tears running down his face as the agony suddenly ended. He was now aware that he was lying face down on the floor, which was covered with blood. All Harry could hope was that it wasn't his blood.

He tried to move, but the painful spasms that erupted in his muscles instantly stopped that. Instead, he listened to the first man and the woman, who were whispering hurriedly somewhere nearby. Although he couldn't understand some of the words, he could still hear them, albeit with difficulty.

"-The Master needs to be told of this, Bella. Who knows what he could do with the so-called Boy-Who-Lived at his side! The sheep will be demoralized if they see that their savior has aligned himself with the Dark!"

"The Master doesn't need the pathetic boy to be powerful! How dare you suggest that a filthy half-blood could be useful to our Master when he has pureblooded witches and wizards at his service!"

Harry, despite his fear and confusion, grinned a little at the exasperation in the man's voice when he addressed the woman. He instantly regretted it when pain erupted in his face.

"Bella, the boy can somehow cast a wandless crucio at the age of eight. I don't know if he's just the meanest little ball of hatred we've ever seen or just powerful, but the Dark Lord could use him."

"Bella", as the man called her, seemed outraged.

"Dear husband," Bella stated coldly, her former insanity seemingly gone, "have you forgotten that the filthy little half-blood just killed your brother? Surely we should kill him as soon as possible!"

The man responded in a similarly frosty tone, "Bella, Rabastan was an idiot. He tried to crucio Potter, even when I had specifically stated otherwise. None of us have any idea whether the Dark Lord will need Potter relatively unharmed- or sane."

Harry heard an annoyed snarl from Bella before he began to stop listening to their conversation. To be frank, he had no idea what in the hell they were talking about, so listening to them was useless. Maybe they were in a…what had the Matron once talked about, a cult? If so, he wasn't quite sure what the hell they wanted him for.

Finally, Harry tried to get up again. Although his frail limbs still quivered and twitched, he managed to get his head enough to look around. The first thing he saw a strange black shape that was releasing small tendrils of smoke. When Harry began to examine it as best he could, he was completely dumbfounded. The bloody thing didn't look like anything he'd ever seen.

After a few more moments of staring, he began to decipher minute details, and realized that a horrible odor was emanating from the shape. Finally, he realized what it was. That…thing used to be the man that had hit him with the light. His mind was in a complete panic, he'd never meant to kill the man, only hurt him!

A vile nauseous feeling began to flow through him as he realized that he had killed. To Harry's scrambled, horrified mind he had completely forgotten that the man was hurting him. All that it could decipher was that he had ended a life.

That was when the nausea began to worsen, and Harry could tell that he was about to vomit. He tried to hold it in, to keep the attention from the two people away from him, but he failed.

The couple, who were still bickering about some 'Dark Lord', immediately snapped their focus to Harry when he began to cough. When he finally lost the battle and threw-up, he could tell that they were feeling a combination of amusement and disgust. Bella bounced up beside him and said in a baby-like voice, "Does wittle Potty have a weak stomach?"

Harry managed to turn his head around enough to look at her. Her mask was staring down at him, and he could see her stick aimed at his small frame. A small glimmer of fear rose through his self-disgust and shock as a sphere of red light began to form at the tip of the stick. Harry turned his head back down to the floor as the light began to grow stronger. He didn't want to see what was coming, especially if it was as bad as the last red light.

"Don't worry, baby Potty," Bella crooned, "it's faster and easier than falling asleep!"

The last thing Harry heard before he fell into a black void was the hissing of sparks.


(NOTE: READ THIS BEFORE YOU READ THIS PART – Skip down to the end of this part if you have a weak tolerance of disturbing images and gore. My apologies if you missed this.)

Harry let out a weak groan as he burst into consciousness. For a moment, he was wondering why he was tightly bound with ropes and had a terrible headache. Then, his memories rushed back to him. He remembered the bat-shit insane woman, the man, and how he…no, he didn't want to think on that. The mere memory of that blackened husk of flesh made him want to vomit. The smell wasn't helping him either, it smelled like someone had locked a thousand rats down here and left them to rot.

He focused his mind on more important things…like how he was supposed to get out of here. The eight year old remembered classes that the Matron had made every orphan attend that told about how you could escape from kidnappers. One way to escape ropes came back to him. A grin lit up the child's face as he tensed his scrawny body, trying to loosen the ropes.

Unfortunately, Harry's plan didn't work. When he relaxed, the ropes seemed to dig in harder than before. They also seemed to be slowly rubbing his wrists, and the boy could already feel the spots where his skin would be rubbed raw.

Dully, Harry decided to wait for his captors to come pick him up. If they could use even more powers than he could, then he had no hope of escaping. For now, it seemed that all he could do was wait for the man and woman.

After what felt like an eternity to the young boy, he grew tired of faking sleep and looked around. Although he wasn't surprised, he was disappointed when he could see nothing but inky blackness.

Harry decided to try and use his powers to burn off the ropes. He focused on all of his terror, his pain, his rage. He focused it on the ropes, envisioned his binds being burned away in silver flame.

A small smile drifted across his small face as he sees a bright silver flame devour the ropes. He marveled at the fact that the flame gave off no heat before he tried to move. Harry instantly regretted that decision, as he felt incredible pain from the lack of blood in his limbs.

The boy stayed still for a few minutes, blinking back tears from the unexpected pain. When he thought he was ready, he stood up. A feeling of smugness rises up within him as he stands up and brushes some of the dirt off of his face. Harry looked around and could see nothing. Deciding to try the same tactic as last time, he focused on his strongest emotions.

Fear. Pain. Rage. The small boy pulled them together and focused them, thinking about a glowing ball of light. He grinned in victory as an eerie red ball of light materialized in his right hand.

Harry's grin faded as he looked around the room in horror. The light illuminated the room, which looked like something from his nightmares, or one of the scary movies he watched on occasion. Blood was smeared liberally over the floor, glistening and slowly spreading. Corpses were hung throughout the room, some little more than skeletons with scraps of flesh on their bones, while others still had their faces in contortions of agony, wide mouths open in silent screams.

The boy was frozen in horror as he saw the remnants of other prisoners, but one fresh corpse made his blood freeze. A loud sob of horror escaped him as he saw the body of a little girl, no more than four, impaled upon a long, barbed metal spike. Her innocent face was permanently frozen in pain, a disgusting parody of a grin on the face. The barbed tip of the iron spike was coming out of her dislodged eyeball, which was loosely hanging onto her face by a thin strand of bloody muscle.

All desire to escape, all desire to keep his ball of light with him, it all died at that moment. He could see nothing except the sweet face of a young girl, who was exposed to brutality a thousand times beyond anything he would ever do. The boy felt relief as the light died down, although it was quickly replaced with him vomiting.

Harry had no idea how long he stayed down in the room with the corpses. In the darkness, time never mattered. All that mattered was that he knew what was in that darkness. Every minute, the stench of death and decay grew stronger, the visual image of rancid, rotting flesh growing more ingrained into his young mind.

He never noticed the growing hunger that gnawed on his stomach, or the burning thirst. Harry's youthful mind only knew that he was within a tomb of death, an image from the pits of hell. He could see the gaping eye sockets every time he closed his eyes, the wide mouths open in never ending screams. Harry could see the blood that was slowly dripping from the skinned and gutted corpses, the puddles of the foul liquid growing larger and larger until it would touch him.

Harry remembered his screaming though. He remembered yelling out for the Matron, his dead parents, even the damned relatives that had left him at the orphanage. He even yelled for Bella, pleading with her to release him from this hell.

Finally, he simply let himself go. Any remaining grasp on sanity was lost in the images of death and decay, leaving him a gibbering wreck that was huddled on the cold floor.

After an eternity in the hellhole, he saw light. Not strong light, nor the glowing red light he had conjured that first day. It was weak light, but it was light! Light that chased away the darkness, light that brought him back.

He kept his eyes closed. He never wanted to see the room again. Instead, he screamed. It was a loud, piteous wail that conveyed all of his loss, all his horror, and whatever was left of his fear-shrouded mind.

He remembered an outraged yell. He remembered someone grabbing him, carrying him. He remembered being placed in a soft bed.

He wanted to open his eyes, but he was too afraid that he would see the room again. Most of all, he was afraid he would see her again.

He continued to scream until he couldn't scream any more. He moaned when he couldn't scream anymore.

He remembered tiny snippets of conversations. He couldn't understand them, just knew that he should remember them.

"Damn it, Bella! What in the name of Merlin did you do to the child? He's practically catatonic!" He liked that voice; it reminded him of safety even though he knew it wasn't friendly.

"Don't worry, dear husband. He's fine! I just wanted to play a game with ickle Hawwikins." He shuddered when he heard that voice, it reminded him of danger and cruelty, of madness and rage.

"Bella, do you know what we're going to have to do to repair this? The Dark Lord will skin us alive when we find him, Harry Potter is his, and his alone. For Merlin's sake, we'll probably have to obliviate him, erase whatever you did permanently."

Here the female voice came back, mocking and cruel. "I didn't do anything, dear husband. It's all in his wittle baby head! The animi cruciatus does such wonderful work, does it not?"

"You used that spell on him! I doubt even an obliviation will heal him! Do you know how difficult it will be to replace all of his memories from when we took him from the orphanage, how difficult it will be to ensure that he is damaged in no way?"

He heard another response from the woman, which seemed to enrage the man.

"Bella, what are we going to do? If this fails, the Dark Lord will do much worse than a cruciatus, he will completely destroy our minds. I am sure that he will not be pleased that we took his prize from him, even if we find him in ten years! Who knows what this mental damage will do to his magic? For all we know, he'll just can it all up and then release it! Did you see his potential, how much raw power the boy possesses?"

The woman said something else, and it seemed the man finally lost it. From behind his eyelids, he could see the flash of scarlet light, followed by the psychotic giggles of the woman. A long suffering sigh came from the man. He saw another scarlet flash before everything went black.

When he awoke, he was still lying in the soft bed. He heard the man talking to him, "…open your eyes, boy. We need to start."

When he didn't do anything but shut his eyes tighter, the man gave an exasperated snort and said, "Damn it, imperio!"

He felt warm and happy for a moment, and opened his eyes. Harry saw an elegant looking room, and noticed that Bella was tied down next to him. The man was standing in front of them, carrying a stick.

The man pointed it at him, and said a funny word.

Rodolphus carefully dove into the boy's mind, trying to find the memories of whatever that damned animi cruciatus showed the boy. He wasn't sure why Bellatrix felt the urge to use that spell against the boy, but it was causing plenty of problems for him right now.

He groaned at what he found, and carefully went about obliviating the scene, and the very fact that it had ever happened to him, from the boy's mind. Now the boy would simply remember using the light he'd created in order to see an ordinary, empty room. He would then remember nothing but waiting for them to retrieve him, then waking up in his bed.

It was quite a bit more difficult using legilimency on Bellatrix, since her occlumency ability was still quite formidable even when she was sedated and stated. He eventually slipped into her mind, and began to rearrange and obliviate memories.

He tried to tweak her memories enough to where she would lose her contempt for the boy, and no longer take pleasure in torturing him. It was far more complicated than what he had done with the boy, and he wasn't sure whether it would work.

Hopefully, however, she would lose her edge when it came to the boy, and not take quite as much glee in throwing spells like the animi cruciatus at the boy.

With a flick of his wand, Bellatrix was released from the stunner he'd sent at her, although the sedative he'd given her put her back down.


Harry brushed the hair out of his eyes and glared at his attacker, and forced the rage up from inside him. As the emotion welled up inside of him, he thrust his hand towards his opponent. Several bursts of white sparks flew out of his palm, followed by a tiny stream of flame.

A grimace adorned the child's face, and he had no time to dodge as a streak of purple light slammed into his stomach, sending him sprawling onto his back. Harry groaned at the impact, but wasted no time feeling self-pity. He jerked up, narrowly avoiding another streak of purple light. The light made contact with the worn wooden floor next to him, which now had cracks threading throughout it.

The boy managed to get on his feet, and quickly thought of his worst memories, everything he could possibly use to inspire his magic. It succeeded, and he could feel the power drumming beneath his skin, demanding to be released. Through his fear and rage, he managed to direct it at his opponent.

This time, much more than just sparks were conjured. Blood red flames, streaked with black, burst from his hands. The pain from the raw power being channeled began to break through the rush of emotions he was feeling, which took robbed the fire of its power. It stayed for a few more moments, sliding around his opponent's shield, but soon grew weaker. Within a minute the flames had fizzled out.

Harry was exhausted, and fell onto his knees. Burning pain was erupting in his hands, and he managed to look down at them even as blackness began to encroach upon the edges of his vision.

His hands, once pale skin, marred only be a few small scars, didn't even resemble hands anymore. The skin was black and twisted, and he could not move them. They were gnarled, and the remnants of his hands were curled together as if they were trying to claw at something.

Harry only felt fear before the blackness filled his vision.

When he awoke, it was to an extremely soft bed. His eyes felt as though they were sealed shut, and he decided to simply remain as he was. It wasn't often that he managed to get a break in the strict regime Bella and Rodolphus set for him.

It was only when Harry heard soft whispers around him that he attempted to get up. He was confused when he couldn't feel his hands, and opened his eyes. At first, the sudden rush of light blinded him. As his eyes began to adjust, he realized that there were two familiar figures standing in the room. The closest was slight and feminine, and was looking down at him with some semblance of concern. The other was tall and well-built, and merely looked at him with scrutinizing eyes.

As his head cleared, and he began to see more details, the memories of what happened flashed through his head. His eyes widened in fear as he looked down at his hands, afraid that he might not even have them.

Harry exhaled a small sigh of relief when he saw that his hands were not the gnarled, blackened things he had seen the last time he'd been conscious. His face took on an expression of curiosity and surprise as he looked closer and saw that his hands seemed to have a silvery shine to them.

At closer examination he saw that they weren't his hands. They seemed to be composed of a molten, silvery metal that looked as though it were constantly flowing. One of the hands clenched as Harry realized what they were.

His mind quickly analyzed his situation and put everything together.

Metallic, silvery hands. Coupled with what he remembered his hands had looked like as he blacked out, he realized that one of the charms he had read about in the book must have been used on him.

What was it, he thought. It started with a P, but that was all he could recall. As he tried to remember the name and effects of the charm, Rodolphus began to speak. Harry noticed that Bellatrix had her wand out and was glaring at Rodolphus.

"Boy, I am afraid that this…unfortunate incident is mostly my fault. I failed to take proper precautions in your training, and you have paid a small price for it." Harry mentally raised an eyebrow. He'd lost his hands, not just gotten a small burn or something.

"As you can see, the amount of magic you channeled in your rage was far too much for the area you channeled it out of – your hands. The energy burned them too badly for them to be saved." Rodolphus motioned at the boy's hands. "Bella was forced to, ah, amputate them. Afterwards, I had one of our old contacts come here to perform the panacea charm on you."

"The results are in front of you. You will no longer have to worry about the magic you channel, and they are much stronger than your old ones. For a small price, we were able to get them charmed to prevent them from being dispelled by other wizards or enchantments."

Rodolphus inclined his head towards the bedridden boy. "Your training will begin again in a week."

As the man left the room, Bellatrix sent him one of her usual, somewhat psychotic smiles. Harry returned the smile as she left, feeling a little bit of warmth well up inside of him. His smile slowly faded as the thin woman left.

His loss finally hit him. He had lost his hands, had them burned to a crisp and then cut off by Bella. And even if he couldn't tell the difference between his old, natural hands and these new magical ones, they just didn't feel right.

And then the anger struck. Rodolphus had spent so much time teaching him to bind and beat his emotions, controlling them with an iron will, but he couldn't repress this. This…force…was the pent up anger he had never released in his training, the strength he had never channeled, the power he had never used.

It felt so good to release it. Around him the objects in the room rose up, vibrating with pent up energy. The new, silvery hands lit up like the sun as the rage brought his magic surging through the small body, and Harry could even feel them grow more powerful.

The observation distracted him and drew his anger out. He suddenly felt very tired, and laid back upon the large, soft bed.

He was there for barely a second before the exhaustion from his short tantrum and the stress brought him into unconsciousness' black embrace.

It was his first training session after the accident. Harry stood across from his opponent, carefully measuring the distance between them.

Eight feet. Short enough to use most spells effectively, as very few curses had a range so short that they would fizzle out within three meters. And that left the boy at a disadvantage. He still didn't have a wand, which meant he had to try to get the desired magic with his emotions. His opponent would easily say a single word and sent a burst of powerful light towards him.

That was not acceptable. The opponent would punish him for his weakness then, and Harry knew he would deserve it. He knew the opponent had arranged the duel like this for a reason, would never put Harry into an unbeatable situation. There had to be a way to win.

He edged around the enemy, constantly watching his arms and hands for any movement that could signal a spell. The enemy merely watched him, keeping the black wand trained upon the boy. A smirk was on the enemy's face, trying to annoy Harry.

Then some of Rodolphus' words struck him. "You will no longer have to worry about the magic you channel." Harry hoped that this was what he was testing, Rodolphus' punishments were always so much worse than Bella's…

The boy focused on the fear he had felt every day at the orphanage, the anger he'd felt when he found the pieces of his pet, and the sadistic pleasure that had been trained into him by Bella. He wanted the feelings to become reality, to let him win this fight.

And the familiar, dark power arose within him, brought into being by his will. He smiled at the feeling, but never let go of his emotions. A second later, his hands began to glow and release the light of a white sun as crackling flames erupted out of them and launched towards the enemy.

Harry was amazed at the lack of sensation from his hands. Before, they had always been slightly pained when he used the magic. Now, they felt almost pleasant.

As the flames were directed away from the pleased Rodolphus with a mere flick of his wand, a happy smile spread over Harry's face.

These hands made anything possible. He might not like them, and still wanted his old hands back, but these weren't so bad. They made magic feel good, and opened up limitless opportunities for him to shine.


"Ready," the tall man hissed to his companions. At their nod, his whispering started again. "Prepare yourselves. The moment I go, follow me," and here he gazed at his companions for a moment, "and for Merlin's sake, be quiet!"

When they were tensed up, the man hurled a handful of powder into the fireplace and yelled out, "DIAGON ALLEY!"

In a burst of emerald flame, the man vanished. The smallest member of their group went next and repeated the action. Once he was gone, their last member followed them.

They stood in the dark alley, lit only by the wands of the few who were still skulking about. Their hoods left them unrecognizable to the patrons of the Leakey Cauldron, although they attracted a bit of attention because of the child with them. The sneers that people could see underneath the hoods tended to cause them to keep their distance.

The trio hurried through the streets, knowing that time was of the essence.

Harry could barely keep up with the Lestranges' long strides, and cursed the robes he was wearing. The muggle clothes he'd worn at the orphanage were much less inhibiting.

But his excitement covered that. Today was the day he would receive a wand! They might be on a time limit of an hour, and had to come in through the unfamiliar Diagon Alley instead of Knockturn Alley, where it was easy to hide in the shadows.

Plus there were very few of the upstanding citizens who would try to stop the Lestranges if their potion wore off. Harry could vaguely hear the whispered complaints of the Lestranges as they neared Ollivander's shop.

"Damn expensive polyjuice potion…could have bought a hundred hours worth a few years ago. Now we can barely afford it at all…"

That would be Rodolphus. Bellatrix simply giggled maniacally as she walked next to the man. Harry smiled and caught up to them. It would be a shame if they punished him right after he got his wand.

Finally, after five minutes of walking and checking over their shoulders, the group arrived at the shop. Aside from a small incident where a man who bumped into Bella was nearly crucioed, there was no trouble.

When they knocked on the door, an old man with eerie, silvery eyes the color of Harry's new hands answered. "Ah," he whispered, "I didn't expect customers so late at night. But wands can never wait."

Ollivander waved them in and bustled off to find several boxes of wands. Harry noticed that both Bella and Rodolphus were extremely anxious beneath their veneer of calm, and both had their hands on their wands.

When Ollivander came back, he bid the boy to stand up and allow the measurers to begin their work. The old man's mouth opened to ask a question, but Rodolphus beat him to it.

"The boy's wand-arm is his left."

The wand maker sent an annoyed glance at the man, but continued his work. Harry could hear him mumbling about how wands choose their wizards and other such things, and was ecstatic when the first wand was handed to him.

He brought it down in an arc through the air, and was disappointed when the wand merely released pungent smelling smoke. "No, no," the wand-maker said as he yanked the wand from Harry's grasp, "that won't do. Try this one."

As the pile of wands grew higher, each of the visitors began to fidget, uncomfortably aware of how low on time they were running. Harry was by far the most fearful, afraid that they would all be caught because of him.

When it seemed that they would have to leave and return another time, Harry grasped the next wand that Ollivander offered. All of a sudden, the warmth that he had come to expect with magic flooded his body, making him gasp.

He turned adoring eyes to the wand, which Ollivander was enthusiastically describing. "Ah, yes, I thought that would be a good pairing for you! Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches! Although," Ollivander muttered thoughtfully, "I had expected it to be claimed in two-years. I suppose that child will have to settle for another wand."

Rodolphus and Bellatrix stood and motioned for Harry to come along after sending a curt thank you to the old man.

They bustled out and were nearly to the Leakey Cauldron, the nearest fire place, when Bella and Rodolphus' polyjuice began to wear off. Bella, keeping her face down, didn't notice the scruffy man that was walking towards her. She walked straight into him, knocking her to the ground and her hood ajar.

As her face became unveiled, the man's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, Merlin!" The man screamed, alerting the inhabitants of the Leakey Cauldron, "it's Bellatrix Lestrange!"

Bella snarled at the man and her lips were forming the word to her favorite spell before Rodolphus silenced her with a flick of his wand. "Don't be stupid, Bellatrix," he hissed, "We don't have time for this."

She glared at him, but nodded in acceptance. The mad woman grasped her wand tightly, and was already attempting to apparate when several aurors emerged from the tavern.

"Damn," the man muttered, "of course there would be aurors in the Cauldron. I blame the boy." He grabbed Harry, making sure that his hood was still up, and flicked his wand towards the approaching wizards. A wave of air emerged from his black wand and bowled the wizards over.

As soon as the men were incapacitated, Rodolphus apparated to the safe house they had agreed upon before their little trip. They found themselves in a forest, with a light dusting of snow on the ground. There was a small cabin two dozen feet away, and the man unceremoniously shoved the shivering boy towards it. He ignored the boy's retching from the apparition, and walked a few hundred feet away.

Rodolphus began waving his wand in intricate patterns, layering dozens of simple wards upon the property in order to prevent them from being tracked. He wove several lethal curses into the wards, hoping that it would at least slow the bastards down if they managed to find them.

He scanned his eyes over the land that surrounded the small, shabby cabin. If Bellatrix had gone to the wrong safe house, it was her fault. That could be dealt with later. But if the boy was being idiotic and hadn't gone straight into the cabin…well, it would be rather dire

Thankfully, he thought as he walked into the cabin and saw the boy lying on top of a pile of threadbare sheets, that wasn't the case. His eyes caught Bella prowling around the cabin, upending and searching various things for whatever reason.

He decided to ignore her…peculiarity…and collapsed upon a chair. Casting so much in such a short time could easily wear a wizard out, even one as powerful as Rodolphus. His eyes were shut within a few minutes.

Bella always did like guard duty…

Harry, on the other hand, was restless. He waited until Bella was asleep – she always ended up sleeping on guard duty – and snuck out of the front door. The boy carefully closed it and observed his surroundings.

It was a forest, that he could see for certain. There was snow on the forest floor, and every now and then he could hear it falling down from a tree.

He ended up wandering around, although he never ventured more than two-hundred feet from the cabin. Rodolphus tended to put his wards up at about that distance, and he wasn't stupid enough to test the man.

But just getting outside couldn't hurt, so long as he stayed within the wards. Or he hoped so, anyways. He walked around for nearly an hour, but still didn't feel tired. Harry was about to go back inside and try to go to sleep anyways when he saw a flicker of motion crossing through the wards.

A flicker of panic emerged within him, and he began to run towards the cabin. The shape is growing clearer now – closer. When he was halfway to the door, the shape tackled him.

The impact knocked the air out of him, and he desperately heaved for air as he looked up at his attacker. He managed to make out a dirty face, curled back in a sneer that exposed long, sharp looking canines. Scraggly hair framed the man's face. Panic rose up within him, and he tried to scream for help. Before the sound could get out, a dirty, foul-smelling hand covered his mouth.

"No, no, I can't have you doing that." The voice said in a falsely sweet tone, "you might ruin this little game." Harry could feel a long, sharp fingernail pushing hard against his neck, beginning to draw blood.

"So, meat," the man asks, "how did you get to my humble abode? Did the aurors send you in as bait? If they did, then I should thank them." The man licked his lips, staring at him with an intense, predatory gaze, "you'll make quite the snack."

Harry's panic reached new levels, and he focused on all of the rage he'd felt over the past weeks, the fear and hatred he had for this thing. His hands began to emanate a bright, silvery light as he felt the power gather within him. As he focused on how he wanted this bastard to suffer, to be thrown off of him so he could escape, the man looked down with a confused expression.

"What in Merlin's name is…" the man started. A pained howl erupted from him as unimaginable pain tore through his body, feeling as though every single tiny piece of him were exploding. His hands reached up to grab his face, which felt as though it were being seared by fiendfyre. The man was unable to react as the boy rolled out from under him and began shouting for help.

"BELLA, RODOLPHUS!" Harry shouted as he stumbled away from the man, who was still screaming on the ground. A second later, an enraged Bella shot out of the cannon, blasting the door off of its hinges. Her violet eyes instantly locked on to the man, and a terrifying snarl erupted on her face.

She threw a crucio at the quivering man, who was scratching bloody furrows into his face, followed by a stunner. Bella frowned as she saw Harry stumbling towards her. "Get inside;" she ordered in a rare moment of terrifying ludicity, "we will take care of this filthy animal."

As Harry nodded and continued to stumble past an even more enraged Rodolphus, she sent one last remark to him. "Don't think we aren't going to punish you, little Harrykins. But we have," she eyed the twitching, drooling man with distaste, "more important things to attend to. Remain in that pathetic excuse of a home."

Harry dumbly nodded as he went into the cabin, looking dumbly down at his silvery hands as they lightly pulsed. It had been so long since he'd actually done anything to someone with his power, and he'd forgotten just how good actually using his power felt.

But he tore his minds from those thoughts and found his wand where he had left it, nervously twirling it as the first shouts of Rodolphus reached his ears.

"Fenrir Greyback," Rodolphus sneered as he looked onto the disgusting half-breed before him, "I hadn't expected you to be here. I would have thought that you would be gallivanting with the other mutts, mating like mindless animals beneath the moon."

Bellatrix cackled as the werewolf twisted onto his back and began to make pleas. "Ah, Rodolphus. I didn't know you were here. If I had, I would have cleaned the place up."

Rodolphus glared down at him and fired off a cutting hex. The werewolf howled in pain as a new gash erupted across his chest, leaving his ragged robes with an even larger bloodstain. "Do not attempt to exchange pleasantries with me, mutt! You see, you have made a rather grave error tonight, you –"

The man glared at Bellatrix as she interrupted. She spoke in the sing-song voice that everyone who had been around her for any length of time knew to fear. "The ickle puppy shouldn't have tried to hurt my little Harrykind," the mad woman giggled as the werewolf tried to push himself back in fear, "Bella's going to have fun with you!"

Rodolphus shrugged as the first spell erupted out of Bellatrix's wand. He might not enjoy the torture as she did, but he certainly wasn't going to stop it.

But he had to wince when he saw the flaying curse strike the huddled man, who was already under the effects of a crucio and whatever the boy had put him under. As he thought of the boy, Rodolphus decided to leave Bella to her game. Perhaps this would tire her out enough so that she could actually sleep.

It was a long time before the screams of the filthy werewolf stopped.

Harry was still awake when the Lestranges finally came in. He couldn't sleep with the agonized yelps and shrieks of the man – Fenrir Greyback, Rodolphus had called him – and simply sat and listened in fascinated silence. Even after living with the Lestranges for a year, he hadn't actually been around when they had to "interrogate" someone.

It was about what he'd expected though, after listening to Bellatrix nostalgically speak of the times she had spent as a Death Eater. Some of them made his stomach churn from the vivid images she lovingly created in his mind.

He listened to them as they glanced over at him for a moment before hastily muttering to each other. They weren't trying to be particularly discreet however, as he could hear them quite easily.

"…Should have known the mutt would be here. This was always his favorite little hide-away after the raids." Said Rodolphus in an agitated tone.

"But it was oh-so fun to play with him! I've wanted to do that to the mongrel for years!" Bella said with some small amount of anger in her voice. "He shouldn't have attacked little Harrykins…"

"No," said Rodolphus with a cruel edge to his voice, "he should not have. Speaking of the boy," here the man sent a surreptitious glance over his shoulder at Harry, who was staring at the adults with blatant curiosity, "I think I know the perfect punishment for such an idiotic and disrespectful action."

That was the first, and only, time that Harry ever felt the cruciatus curse from his guardians.


Harry was ten now, and it was nearly a year after he had gotten his wand. At the moment, he was in yet another training session with Rodolphus.

After he had obtained his wand, he had spent two months getting used to it. The amount of magic he had done before he had received the wand, combined with the intense training Rodolphus had given him in order to strengthen that ability, had made it extremely difficult to channel magic through the wand. For the first few times he'd attempted magic with the wand, his hands had released waves of magic that nearly destroyed the wand.

The boy had learned control soon, but it still took three weeks to stop allowing some of the magic to escape through his hands, which could drastically weaken a spell. It didn't help that he had never had to use spells before, as he simply willed the general effect into existence. Adjusting to the spoken words and wand motions had been…difficult.

But thanks to the excellent motivation that Rodolphus gave him – generally extremely painful curses - he managed to master the art. Rodolphus trained him in transfiguration and charms, and took over the majority of his education.

Bellatrix rarely engaged in his education, and only taught him the herbs and potions that were highly lethal, but when she did it was generally to teach him the dark arts and how to completely terrify his enemies.

Harry couldn't deny that he enjoyed those rare lessons, and made sure to give it his all in order to receive more of them. It wasn't often that he was able to spend much time with Bella, and he made sure to enjoy them when he did.

But at the moment, he was fighting his mentor. Rodolphus was enjoying the effortless battle, if his smirk was any indication. Harry prepared to throw a shield up; that smirk meant that a flurry of minor spells were about to fly at him.

His prediction came true, unfortunately, and he barely raised his shield before four weak cutting hexes lashed out of Rodolphus' wand. His shield held, but Harry quickly began moving. Although the Lestranges said he had plenty of raw power, he hadn't honed it enough to stand up to their own strength, something that irked him constantly. It didn't matter that he was so young, he needed to be stronger to be of any use to anyone.

Harry flicked his wand at the man, sending an impedimenta at him. Rodolphus lazily deflected the spell, and threw a concussion hex at the boy. It easily shattered the shield Harry had put up a moment beforehand, and bowled the boy over.

The boy fumbled for his wand, which had been knocked ajar by the blast. His hand had just managed to grasp it before Rodolphus immobilized him.

"Damn it, boy," Rodolphus snarled, "put more power into your shields! A bloody first-year at Hogwarts would have better control than you! If you would actually focus on the fight I have no doubt that you would last more than a few seconds against me." With another snarl and flick of his wand, Rodolphus released him.

Harry rolled his eyes, but dutifully nodded his head. He heard Rodolphus give an exasperated sigh before the man spoke again. "We will move onto transfiguration…for now. I want you to last more than twenty seconds against me the next time we spar."

The ten year old nodded again and picked up his wand, which had rolled out of his hand when he was immobilized. He followed Rodolphus to a small table, which the man placed a squirming mouse on.

"Turn that into a glove before four o'clock. Make sure you pay attention to detail."

Harry turned to the rodent and immobilized it. Today would be a simple task, at least. Transfiguration always did come rather easy to him.

It was the next day, and Harry was fortunate to have Bella training him that day. Rodolphus had to "acquire" more polyjuice potion. At the moment, the boy was paying rapt attention to his favorite Lestrange.

"Today," Bella said with a maniacal grin, "we will be seeing just how far your…prowess…with curses has improved. I even brought in a little treat!" When she finished, she enthusiastically waved her wand. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then four bound people – muggles, if their clothes were any indication – appeared on the ground before him. Bellatrix twirled her wand between long fingers as Harry examined the immobilized muggles. There were three men, and one woman. None of them were particularly noteworthy, and were probably from the lowest dregs of society. Even Bella would be careful when capturing muggles, particularly since they'd had a close call with the aurors just a few weeks ago.

But he refocused, and looked to the witch for instruction. "Ooh," she laughed, "we get to have fun today! You get to use a very special curse this time, little Harry." Bella flashed him a predatory grin and bound each of the muggles before recalling the immobilization, "Watch closely!"

Harry paid rapt attention as she leveled her wand down at the largest muggle and shrieked, "CRUCIO!" As the muggle screamed and contorted in agony, the boy watched in clinical fascination. The cried and convulsions gave him no pleasure, but they fascinated him in some deep, mysterious way that he couldn't quite understand.

When Bella lowered her wand Harry stepped forward. He aimed his wand at the same muggle who had just been cursed, and was surprised as Bella held up a hand to stop him. "Not yet, little Harry," the mad woman sang as she twirled her own wand between her fingers, "I need to make sure you know how to use the curse, know how to enjoy it!"

"You know the power you get from magic. Feel the power of your hatred and fear flow through your body, hone that hatred into magic. Then," she crooned softly, "release that magic into the filthy muggle. You need to want it more than anything else, you have to love the power of watching your victims squirm in agony!"

Harry nodded and focused on his old method of using magic as he leveled his wand at the terrified muggle. He brought all of his anger and pain erupt in his mind, and focused on how much he wanted to watch the man screaming on the ground, how much he wanted to inspire fear in his enemies, how much he wanted to please Bella.

With a look down at the muggle, Harry hissed, "Crucio!" His raw emotion purpose was given a purpose, and he could feel the effect on the curse.

As the man lay screaming on the ground, surrounded by acrid smells, Harry thought he might just understand Bella's love for the curse.

Harry eyed the twitching, screaming man as he listened to Bella's mad giggles. For a moment he considered putting the muggle out of his misery, but thought better of it. Not only would he be punished, but that would displease Bella.

And that was something he would always try his best to avoid.

A/N:Hopefully you liked this story so far, and I hope that you continue reading. The quality gets better from here.