Pairings: Unknown, but not part of the main plot. (HPDM or HPGW?) All other pairings will be canon.
Summary: The day before his eleventh birthday, Harry Potter was captured from the suburbs of Surrey, England, and now, with the help of his practically-superhero friends, he has to find the nerve to escape. Things tend to explode when Harry gets brave. Superpower fic, with original twists. AU.
Notes: This is your classic, over-done, teaching-an-old-dog-new-tricks superpower fanfic, based on Harry's generation. Roll with me here.
I'm going to attempt not to make this into X-Men, or Marvel comics, or Gone - possibly in vain, but we can hope, right? X-Men is what happens when people with strange powers, or "mutants", are rescued by a kindly professor person. Most fanfictions going along this line turn Professor X into Professor Dumbledore, understandably.
This is what happens when wizards with strange powers are captured by the wrong person. Enjoy?
P.S There are three sections to this chapter, each jumping around in time. The first section is present-day, the second section is a newspaper article from 1981, and the third section is set three years ago. The chapters won't usually jump around as much, but I wanted to get those three scenes in here.
Oh, and read the author's note at the bottom. It will help. A lot.
"Patient 7: Harry James Potter. Test 83B, commencing in three... two... one..." The robotic female voice may have continued there rather than broken off, but you would have never heard it over the sound of Harry's cries.
He was falling. Falling until the ceiling was a white dot in the distance and the metal ropes around his arms and legs snapped. He could see the walls closing in around him, but they were stark white, visible, touchable. Breakable.
He hummed a note - a seemingly innocent, seemingly insane note - and the walls cracked and bent and returned to their normal shape. Harry could breathe again.
"Test 83B: complete. Results: unsuccessful."
"I don't understand!" A high, male voice screeched from somewhere unseen as Harry writhed and attempted to even out his breathing on the cold table grounding him to the real world. "It should have provoked a reaction here as well as in the delusion - why not?"
"Patient 7's statistics are mostly stable. Physical: normal. Heart rate: rapid. Vitals: normal. Possible remaining damage. Patient 7 showing signs of mental distress and trauma. Test 83B: unsuccessful."
"We heard you the first time, you moronic bint!" The same wizard yelled to the automated system that Harry presumed was projecting the robotic voice into the room.
"I don't understand it," he muttered, a few beeping sounds sounding from behind a distant wall. "All of the other test subjects responded to powerful emotions - any emotions, come to that! Happiness, arousal, pain, fear... He used to be like that, but with no control. We're only asking him to break the table, for Merlin's sake! It's the last stage!"
"We can try a different sensation," a smooth, silky voice drawled from somewhere else near the first man. Harry's ears perked up at this - any information, any hint to what the next torture would be, would help him. Help him cope. Help him remember.
"Oh?" The first wizard asked with interest, a few clicking sounds that Harry presumed to be buttons echoing in the silence.
"You're focusing too much on the clichéd fears. Heights, death, confined spaces... let's try something a bit different."
"You know, this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't kept him separate from the others for three years, letting Bella mould him into the son she never wanted by locking him away and working on the others so that he could be her metaphorical atomic bomb. He's learnt too much control. He's holding back."
"I would be careful about what I was saying, if I were you. Our darling Bella has a habit of listening in where she's not wanted. Start the test."
"Patient 7," the first man spoke into the microphone that was connected to the room. Harry closed his eyes in response. "We're asking you nicely this time. Control your power. Twist it. Don't hold it back." He gave an impatient sigh when Harry blinked. "Alright, let's go." He pressed a button.
"Patient 7, test 14G, commencing in three... two... one..."
Harry was standing in bright light. Just light. There wasn't anything there, though. That was as bad as darkness. Darkness just meant nothing. And if this was Heaven, and all it was was nothingness but lighter, who was he to fear Hell? No. No, he had to get out of here. He had to get out. He had to escape. He could take darkness, if he reached out his fingers and felt something, anything, but nothing?
He couldn't take that.
So he didn't hum a little note, or whisper a lullaby. Harry screamed. He screamed a long, harsh note that manipulated the light and twisted it, broke it.
Outside the room, behind a pane of glass protected with a dozen wards and spells or more, two wizards watched the equipment and furniture being flung across the room with varying degrees of satisfaction.
The first wizard did a little gig when the table snapped in half.
"Test 14G: complete. Results: highly successful. Patient's 7's statistics are stable. Physical: normal. Heart rate: normal. Vitals: normal. No remaining damage. 14G: highly successful," the voice droned over the intercom that none of the wizards could see.
"We've done it, Lucius," the first man gushed, pressing one hand against the window and staring at the boy slumped against the broken slate of a table.
"Indeed, Rodolphus," the second man, Lucius Malfoy, nodded dispassionately. "Will he finally be ready to join the others?"
"Oh yes," Rodolphus breathed.
On the table, fourteen year old Harry slipped away from consciousness and back into his unending dream of darkness and a lone, tuneless note.
ϟ ϟ ϟ
The Daily Prophet
1st November, 1981
SIRIUS BLACK SHOWS HIS TRUE COLOURS.
The body of Lily Potter, Healer, was found last night outside a warehouse in Muggle London. Her son, Harry, was taken by her murderer and family friend, Sirius Black, and was later rescued by Aurors who arrived shortly on the scene.
"It was a tragic loss," Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold, reported earlier today. "Mrs Potter was believed to have been captured along with her son after the death of her husband two weeks ago.
"It was confirmed that Peter Pettigrew, another best friend of the Potters, attempted to confront Black but was killed in the resulting crossfire. Bellatrix Lestrange and her associates pleaded that they were under the effects of the Imperius Curse, and were found not guilty. They will be on probation, but otherwise will not be punished for their wrongdoings under the Unforgivable."
Black has been found guilty and will be spending the remainder of his life in Azkaban.
Harry, under the command of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has been sent to live with Muggle relatives in hope that he finds a normal and loving life with them.
Professor Dumbledore was unavailable for comment.
By Rita Skeeter, Reporter of the Daily Prophet.
ϟ ϟ ϟ
Harry had been kidnapped when he was a day away from eleven years old, from the suburbs of Surrey, England. They had heard of a boy a little less than normal - of course, this was a lie. He was furthest thing from normal. Harry Potter was a wizard.
He hadn't yet come to this conclusion - living in a cupboard, he didn't get out much, and when he did, he wouldn't be able to tell a wizard from a Muggle anyway.
And, to top it all off, Harry wasn't even a normal wizard, which he didn't know either.
Everything so far had been an accident - usually when in the facinity of his aunt and uncle, when he dared to be a little bit louder, a little bit braver. Things tended to explode when Harry decided to find his inner courage.
But they had been searching the area for a few weeks when they came across Harry sitting on a curb on the path, happily picking at a daisy; happy to be out of Number 4, Privet Drive, that is.
"Hello," they had said silkily, Harry remembered. He had been told to say no to strangers, like all school children, but like most school children, he appeared to ignore this in favour of the ice cream hanging in front of his gawping face. He hadn't had ice cream in years.
"Is that... is that strawberry?" Harry whispered. He had been told to talk quietly, naturally, but nowadays, it was a necessity.
If he talked too loudly, things had a habit of... not going to plan.
"Yes, it is," a soft, female voice said lovingly. Harry looked up to find beautiful, dark grey eyes staring down at him. "Can you tell us your name?"
"I-I'm Harry P-Potter," he stuttered, his voice still barely above a whisper. The woman - probably in her thirties - held out a perfectly manicured hand and Harry shook it, feeling very official and grown up. He smiled shyly up at her, and her grin widened.
"I'm Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry," Bellatrix told him, sitting beside him on the curb. "And I can help you."
Harry's ears perked up at this. Help. It was a word he had heard about, one he had longed for, but no one had ever offered to him. He took a lick of the ice cream and almost moaned in delight.
"Help me?" He echoed.
"Yes, Harry," Bellatrix soothed, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Have you ever thought of anything you did as strange? Maybe... abnormal?" Harry nodded eagerly. "Have you ever had anything like that that you can... control?"
Harry nodded again. "My voice," he murmured. "Sometimes, if I speak too loudly, things... move..."
Bellatrix grinned up at her male companions. "Boys, I think we've got a live one."
The men all laughed, and Harry looked between them, bewildered.
"Harry, would you like to get away from your family? We could take you to a place where people have the same talents as you, the same abnormalities. We could help you and save you, Harry. All you have to do is say yes."
"Would my uncle and aunt be okay?" Harry asked nervously.
"They'll be fine, my dear. But you will be better."
"Okay," he nodded. Bellatrix leaned forward, as though she couldn't hear what he was saying. "Okay!" He repeated, daring for his voice to be a bit louder this time, with more enthusiasm. The cement beneath them seemed to rumble and quake.
"What was that?" A tall, dark haired man shouted, gripping onto Bellatrix's forearm. "Bella, what the fuck was that?"
"That, Rodolphus," Bellatrix whispered, standing up elegantly like a panther unfurling, beaming down at Harry on the curb, "was our new little protégé." That was when her hand gripped his forearm, pulling him close. "Would you like to see a magic trick, Harry?"
He shook his head. He wouldn't like to see a magic trick. Magic tricks meant bad things; the Dursleys had taught him that. The air around them grew cold.
"Oh, come on now," Bellatrix said harshly, pulling Harry's face closer to her's. He whimpered. "Don't be like that. We just want to play, don't we, boys?" She looked up at the men, two of which gave sick smiles.
"Stop messing around, Bellatrix," a shorter, blonde man said bluntly, not at all smiling. "We've got work to do with this one."
"Oh," she pouted, "are you going to deny me my fun, Lucius? I don't think that would be a very good idea. In fact, if Harry here is number 7, why don't we make your son number 8? Didn't you say you were worried about his growing abilities? I'm sure Draco would blossom at our institute." She smirked.
"You... you wouldn't," the man named Lucius stuttered, his pale face now almost colourless.
"No. I wouldn't have." Bellatrix grinned. "But then you went and insulted me. So now I will."
"You can't... my only son, Bellatrix, my only heir..."
"Do you not trust our program, Lucius? He will be... how do you say? Taken care of." She laughed at the look on his face as Harry watched on, eyes wide. "Oh, it won't happen just yet, Lucius, but don't worry. In time... I'm sure he'll be a great asset to our cause."
"No, no, please..." Lucius begged.
"Silencio," Bellatrix muttered, rendering the man silent before slashing what looked like a wooden stick through the air and causing Lucius to fall to his knees. Harry whimpered. "Ungrateful mutt," she purred.
"What are you going to do with me? I'm Harry. Just Harry. I'm not a number."
"Oh!" She said with glee, tucking a nail under Harry's chin and raising his head. "Rodolphus, I believe we have a little Gryffindor here. Just like Daddy, right, Harry?"
"What do you know about my dad?" He asked. He wanted to know what that stick was, what a Gryffindor was, and most importantly of all, what they were going to do with him, but his orphan instincts won out, in the end.
"He was so brave, and foolish. I remember him now, looking at you, but your eyes, Harry... Your eyes are your mother's, has anyone ever told you that? Yes, your worthless, Muggle mother's..."
"My mum wasn't worthless!"
"And what would you know, my dear?" Bellatrix taunted. "And in answer to your other question, we're going to help you. I don't turn my back on a promise like that, Harry; it's not in my... nature."
"How did you know my parents?" Harry whispered, looking up into the woman's eyes. The tables had turned so quickly. He knew he shouldn't have spoken, should have stayed silent, should've listen to his aunt and uncle, shouldn't have been born...
"I didn't know them personally until their death. You can learn so much about someone as you kill them."
"No," he said simply. "No, no you didn't..."
"Of course I did, Harry. Why would I lie?" Bellatrix smirked at him, lifting her hand and scratching his cheek lightly with a long nail.
"Why would you kill them?" Harry shot back, standing up now, not wanting to remain powerless sitting on a curb in Surrey, no matter how defenceless he was - he didn't even have a stick.
"Because they got in the way, of course. I killed your father first. He tried to put up a good fight, but he was defenceless, you see. Such a shame... he had such talent. And your mother - your mother was so easy, I almost believe she was a Muggle rather than a Mudblood. She begged me not to kill you, begged me to take her life before yours. I complied, of course, but in a rather... unusual fashion.
"We captured her, and you, you see. She couldn't deal with the torture. She killed herself. How pathetic." She sneered and spat at the ground.
"Don't talk about my parents like that!"
Across the streets, car horns sounded and lights blared and all the streetlights shattered. The shortest and heaviest of the men, who had been silent thus far, let out a scream and doubled over, blood streaming from his mouth.
He ran down the street, into a forgotten alleyway and out through the other end. He took a left, another left and carried on through town until he reached Spinnet End, where no one would bother him.
"Oh, Harry, don't you want to play with us?" A voice called out into the afternoon air. Harry's blood froze and he took off running again, through the park and past the warehouses.
"You. Pettigrew. Get him."
The man Harry had unwillingly attacked appeared at the end of the street. Literally just appeared out of nowhere. He had obviously been well looked after, but his blonde hair was receding prematurely and the lines around his eyes crinkled when he sneered.
"Please," Harry begged as the man - Pettigrew, Bellatrix had called him - appeared again, nearer this time. "I'm just a kid."
"So was I," Pettigrew murmured, "but whoever said that everyone has a choice has never met Bellatrix."
And then the man was right in front of him, and he gripped his forearm tightly, in the same place as Bellatrix had done. Harry yelped, and tried to tear himself away. Before he could, there was a tug in the pit of his stomach. And he screamed.
He saw the wreckage disappear from sight, but the image of the half destroyed street stayed in his mind even as he threw up over a white tiled floor that had appeared.
"Welcome, Patient 7," a robotic female voice that Harry would come to hate spoke loudly in the room. "Administering Chip #7 now..."
There was a jab in his right arm and Harry whimpered from the pain.
"Patient 7: tracked."
"Now, Harry," Bellatrix's voice echoed loudly, making him wince. Suddenly, one of the walls of the white room disappeared to reveal a small, grey room. "We're going to play a little game. The aim is to be out of control, to let your power loose. We are going to play until you lose. Are you ready?"
Harry shook his head, because no, he was not ready, and who could be ready for this?
"Such a shame," she repeated, then flicked her wrist that was still holding her wooden stick. She pointed it at Harry, and metal ropes twisted around his wrists. He was levitated to a table in the centre of the room, and tied there. The grey room and Bellatrix disappeared from sight, leaving the blank white wall. Harry struggled against his restraints.
"Test 1A, commencing in three... two... one..."
I'm guessing you want a few more details into this AU, don't you? Read on, Potterheads, read on!
Voldemort (Tom Riddle) was never born; therefore Harry was not the Chosen One. However, the Death Eaters were still formed under the reign of Bellatrix, who killed James and captured Lily and Harry. Lily, in her grief, killed herself after two weeks in hope that Harry would be saved.
Harry was rescued by Sirius, who was eventually framed by Peter Pettigrew for the murder of Lily, James and Peter himself. He didn't turn into a rat, but stayed by Bellatrix' side for the next ten or so years. Harry was sent to the Dursleys by Dumbledore.
About seven years later, however, Bellatrix and her gang started to discover children across the country who were developing special talents alongside their magical abilities. They captured these children of different ages, and in current time, there are over fifty "patients".
And I think you're up to date! There will be more info in the next chapter... Please review and so on, and the next update should be up in a week or so. Thank you!