Summary: After being transported to the graveyard and the rebirth of Voldemort, Harry is tortured by the Dark Lord himself. Then he is forced by a spell to have his memories played in front of Voldemort, his Death Eaters and Harry himself. Reliving his life at the life causes Harry to become distressed. Will the stone hearted Dark Lord see Harry in a new light? Can they bring him out of the past and give him a brighter future?
AN: All the things in the Harry Potter world created by J.K. Rowling are her creations. I will take no credit for her famous Harry Potter books.
Harry fell to his knees as the Cruciartus curse ripped through him. Hot irons being placed along his skin and knives were plunged into his body. He bit his lip to stifle a scream while the Death Eaters, wearing long cloaks of black and white masks, stood silently as their Lord tortured the boy.
He was back…..
The curse was released. Harry surged forward onto his hands and knees, panting. His body ached and stung with the aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse. Harry could smell the dead, decaying grass and taste the blood from where he had bit through his lip. Sweat matted his unruly hair to his forehead while his limbs shook to keep him off the ground. His red and black champions robes (AN: They were red and black in the movie right?) were ripped from the horrid maze that he and Cedric had gone through….Wait Cedric…
Cedric Diggory's body lay in a heap by one of the many surrounding gravestones. The Hufflepuff had been killed just like that. Nothing but a flash of green light and he was gone. Blue eyes gazed up at the stormy black sky unseeingly.
Harry looked up into snake-like visage that was Dark Lord Voldemort. He had a bald head and slits for a nose. His crimson eyes, the color of newly spilt blood, were slitted and shimmering with intelligence and power. The looming figure wore a black cloak that hid the rest of him from view. Long fingered hands held a white crooked wand made of yew wood.
"There is a spell that I discovered many years ago." A cold sinister voice rang out across the graveyard. Voldemort feral grin sent shivers down Harry's spine. "It allows the viewers in the area to see one's past memories. Their worst nightmares. Their fears." The man cackled, high and cruel to all that heard. "Let us see how our pampered little Golden Boy adores his fame and attention."
Harry began to scramble backwards as the white yew wand was pointed at him. It was too late. The violet spell hit its mark between his emerald eyes. Blackness seeped into his view. The world around him went dark. Soon flashes of his life zoomed behind his eyes. He could catch snatches….
The Triwizard Cup…
The golden egg…
The Stone and Quirrel…
Harry was floating in darkness. Soon shadowy figures came into focus, opposite of him. Voldemort stood near the front, his Death Eaters behind him. They too were floating in the dark with him. The Dark Lord grinned, his white pointed teeth seeming to flash even in the blackness.
The memories began….
A woman...beautiful…red hair…green eyes..she sat in a rocking bouncing a little boy in her lap while the child giggled with innocence.
Harry looked at his mother. This was memory of his mother? Tears came to his eyes. He never thought he had any memories of her. He couldn't remember these. Only the pictures he had of her were all he had to remember her by.
The scene changed…
The child sat on a man's stomach with scraggly black hair and warm brown eye's…. The baby, who looked much like the man, if the hair was anything to go by, was touching his face…..Studying its features…the child grabbed the man's glass and put them in front of his face…they were too big for his small face…the man laughed…so happy.
Harry watched from his position in room where he was standing on the memory's floor and watched his father. Silent tears caressing down his hallow cheeks. Voldemort, Harry saw, was sneering at the scene.
James…he sat on the floor…the child playing with the smoke rings the man spouted out of his wand in the air…the child giggling happily…a bang…the front door flying off its hinges…screams…
"It's Him Lily! Take Harry and go! I will hold him off!"
The woman…Lily…picked up the child and ran up the stairs…
She held him close…tears streamed down her tanned cheeks…
"Be safe…" Lily whispered. "Be safe Harry. Be sound. You are so strong. Be strong."
Harry watched. He fell to his knees. He reached out to her, his own tears flowing with his mother's. Sorrow…
The door exploded inwards…a cloaked figure…she placed the baby in the crib and got in between the black cloaked figure and the crib…
"Please not Harry!" Lily sobbed. "Take me instead! Please not Harry!"
"Ssstand assside sssilly girl." A hiss…
"Please…please have mercy!"
"Thisss isss your lassst warning." Another hissing answer…
The woman didn't back down…a white wand…a hissed spell….a familiar green light…the woman's…Lily's…his mother's body fell to the floor…cold and lifeless..
Harry watched as his mother's boy connected with the floor. A sob escaped him.
The figure…looming over the edge of the crib…red glowing eyes…a sickly green light…a light surrounded the child…a shield…the spell shooting back to its caster…an inhuman scream…a pile of robes left…the house shook…the last thing heard before the room began to cave in…"Momma!"
More sobs escaped Harry as the room was whisked away. He bowed his head, fresh tears in his emerald eyes. He cried…The man across from him, watching Harry scowled, non-existent lips pulling downwards.
"He will have that scar forever…" Dumbledore…
"Can I say goodbye to him sir…" Hagrid…a giant of man giving the bundle a whiskery kiss…a cry of a wounded dog…
"Shhh! You'll wake the muggles!" McGonagall…
"Good luck Harry…" A whispered goodbye…
Memories zoomed by. Too fast to really interpret. Soon they slowed.
Harry Potter…five years old…scrubbing the kitchen floor…dressed in rags…he wiped the sweat off of his small scarred forehead…a horse of a woman…standing over him…yelling…
"Ungrateful Freak!" Aunt Petunia screamed in the little boy's face. "So stupid and weak! Just like his disgusting mother!"
A boy so skinny…so weak and starving…he stood at the stove…cooking…trying hard not to drool over the food…stomach growling in hunger…a fat blond boy…taunting…
"Hey Freak!" Dudley taunted. "Why don't we go Harry-Hunting later? I bet you can't run away from me for long!"
Dudley shoved the small boy into the stove…making hot grease from the bacon splatter over Harry…a small pale hand catching itself on a hot burner…red angry burns all over his hand…unshed tears…laughter in the background…a little boy sobbing in his cupboard…
Voldemort watched as the memories went by of Harry's childhood. He frowned even more. He and his Death Eaters stood silent as the more memories played past. All thoughts of taunting the boy gone by what they were seeing.
Aunt Marge letting Ripper sick Harry up a tree…cold nights in the fall cast out by his family…a fat man, Uncle Vernon towering over the little emaciated boy. A belt in hand.
Yelling…being shoved into the cupboard…the belt…Oh God the belt…the sickening sounds of the leather meeting skin…blood seeping out of the back of an abused boy…silent tears mixing with the blood staining the carpet…
Harry was shaking by this point. He fell backwards and crawled backwards away from the scene until his back hit the memory's wall. He pulled his legs up against his chest hugging his knees. He turned his face away, not wanting to watch. With each crack of the belt Harry flinched violently. As he hid his eyes away from the scene, Harry missed the sickened and saddened looks the Deatheaters had.
Voldemort stared at the boy across from him in the darkness. The abused little boy…
"Worthless boy and your disgusting Freakishness!" Uncle Vernon snarled. "Clean up this mess boy by breakfast or the next beating will not be as pleasant."
A small malnourished boy left to clean up his own blood…
The memories flew by faster now.
His letter…Hagrid…Hogwarts…Ron…the stone…Quirrel…The Dark Lord…Voldemort…
The train ride back…his uncle's welcome home present…
His uncle standing over him…his face purple in rage…the little boy's legs shaking uncontrollably…a slap…the little boy falling to the ground…a kick…a sickening crack of a broken rib…
Harry began to rock back and forth. His hands covered his ears. He didn't want to listen. Tears of shame and sorrow fell down his cheeks as he shook his head, trying to get his own cries of pain out of his head.
The little boy was yanked upwards…bruised and bloody…screaming…
"Ungrateful Freak!"…Uncle Vernon…"We should have drowned you the minute you were dumped on our doorstep!"
"P-please Uncle Vernon! I-I'm s-s-sorry! P-please have m-mercy!"…the little boy begging…asking for forgiveness…the clinking of a belt unbuckling…the little boy being thrown to the ground…the dark leather whistling through the air…
"STOP!" Harry screamed. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't watch or listen to it anymore. "Make it stop! Make it stop! I can't watch! Please make it stop!"
The Dark Lord and his Deatheaters stared at the hysterical little boy. Harry was shaking horribly with his hands curled into fists around his ears.
"Just kill me!" Harry cried. "Just kill me! Don't make me watch this! Please make it stop!" He was shaking so much. He just wanted to die. He had not thought of killing himself for years. He had wanted to just die peacefully in his sleep. Just to pass away. No pain.
Lord Voldemort flicked his yew wand and the darkness around them faded. He and his Deatheaters were now standing around the headstone of Voldemort's father. Harry had pressed his back into the large stone behind him. Sobs escaped deep within Harry's chest. He pressed his face into his filthy pant legs. He couldn't make his tears stop.
"Please just make it end." Harry sobbed.
Voldemort moved forward slowly. Approaching the small, fragile little boy, he knelt down slowly beside the shaking form.
Harry didn't even care that the Dark Lord was so close. He just kept crying. His shoulders shook uncontrollably with his sobs. He felt so weak. So stupid….
Voldemort had a look of concern on his snakelike face. A strange expression to be seen anywhere on his character in all honesty. He reached out cautiously for the sobbing boy's shoulder. Stilling his spindly hand just before he touched the bloodied clothed shoulder, Voldemort seemed to judge if were a good idea in the first place. Then throwing his caution to the wind, the Dark Lord placed his hand gently on Harry's shoulder.
Harry stiffened when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He hiccoughed weakly, staring at his legs. He knew exactly who was near him. He gathered his Gryffindor courage and let his puffy, emerald green eyes drift to red slitted ones.
"Just get it over with." Harry hiccupped. "Just kill me. I don't want to go back there. Just kill me so I can't." He was so desperate to die…
Voldemort stared into teary emerald and slowly shook his head, never letting his eyes drift from the boy's.
"I can't do that Harry." The Dark Lord spoke quietly. "No one…no magical child…not even you…should have to endure the abuse you have gone through."
"Why do you even care?" Harry snapped at the man through his tears. "You wanted to kill me in the first place. Just get it over with. I just want to die…to just go peacefully." Harry pressed his face into his pant legs again not wanting to look into the concerned ruby eyes. No one had ever cared before…
"Killing a magical child is so much different then torturing them." The Dark Lord said softly. He turned his slitted eyes away from the child to his Deatheaters. "You are the first magical child to be tortured by my wand. And I regret doing so. If I had ever caught my followers torturing a child that held magic…they would receive what they inflicted tenfold. No child should go through what you have."
Voldemort's followers nodded. They had remembered that oath they had took at the beginning of Voldemort's first rise. There was a mandatory rule that all children were to be killed with the use of the killing curse. If any death eaters were caught torturing a child, he would receive what they had given tenfold before being put to death. Magical children are just too important to the wizarding world. Watching the Dark lord torture the boy, even if it was Potter, was shocking since it was Voldemort's rule to never torture a child in the first place.
Harry shook his head and shrugged off the man's hand as he scooted away from him. He didn't care. He just wanted his pathetic life to end. He wanted peace.
"I regret ever placing you under the Cruciatus Harry." Voldemort stated softly after Harry moved away from him. "It was not right to torture you. It was wrong and I am sorry." Voldemort watched the boy. He reached out again and brought his long fingers underneath the dirty, tear soaked chin. He pulled up the Harry's face so that the boy would meet his eyes. Red clashed with green.
A long moment of silence passed between them and in this time Voldemort seemed to come to decision.
"You must return to Hogwarts child." The man murmured. His thumb moved to caress Harry's cheekbone in a soothing manner. "Return to Hogwarts Harry."
The Dark Lord flicked his hand at Cedric's dead body and cup. Both levitated into the air and moved towards the headstone. Harry stared at Voldemort. He wanted him to return?
Cedric's body rested beside Harry while the cup stayed levitating in the air. Voldemort's white hand unclasped Harry's from his pant leg and guided it to Cedric's lifeless one.
"Go back Harry." Voldemort said softly. "Take the boy's body with you." Voldemort stepped away from Harry and stood in front of his Deatheaters again.
Harry stared at him. He wasn't going to die?
Voldemort raised his hand and dragged it towards the ground. The cup hovering in midair slowly moved downwards towards Harry's lap. Voldemort watched Harry with sympathy and understanding as he flicked his wand and a silvery wisp sped off and away from the graveyard. When the cup was about an inch above his lap, Voldemort spoke again.
"I will come for you this summer Harry." Voldemort spoke quietly though it rang across the graveyard. Only a few seconds before the portkey would be activated. "And I keep my promises."
Harry's vision swam out of focus as he fell into unconsciousness as there was a pull behind his navel.
Harry sat in the white crisp bed in the hospital wing. He stared ahead, eyes unfocused. He had returned, unconscious, with Cedric's body and had been pulled away by Moody as Mr. Diggory mourned over his son's body. Moody had taken him to his office and given him a potion to heal his leg from where the acromantula had bitten him in the maze and one for the after affects of the Cruciatus. (AN: Barty stays till the end of the year before he kills Moody and leaves his body in the bottom of the trunk. I never liked him much anyway. Adored Barty though!) He had watched over Harry as he slept. Moody had even started to doze off before Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall had raced up to his office to get them.
Snape had levitated the boy to the Infirmary where Madam Pomfrey had bustled over to heal him. Moody and the other teachers along with the Minister had all come to gather in the Hospital Wing to argue over if the Dark Lord was back or not. Snape had already showed Dumbledore the Dark Mark that had darkened to a deep black and was moving on the pale forearm. The Headmaster now knew that He had truly returned. The Minister, being ever so stubborn, had refused to believe it and had stormed out before anyone could convince him. The Headmaster had then informed the staff and others of His return and sent Sirius, in animangus form, and Severus to gather the old crowd.
Everyone wanted to hear what really happened and anxiously awaited Harry's awakening. They had to wait two days. When he finally began to stir the staff, Weasleys along with Hermione, the Diggorys' and the two remaining champions had all gathered to hear what had happened.
Harry had woken up staring at a white ceiling and adjourned in the hideous white and blue striped hospital robes. He had pulled himself up into a sitting position where he was bombarded with questions on what happened and if He was really back. Harry had begun to hyperventilate and wheeze from all the questions. Madam Pomfrey had then yelled at them to give the boy some space before she quickly calmed down his rapid breathing.
When Harry had calmed down, Dumbledore stepped forward and asked if the dark Lord had returned. Harry hesitated only slightly before he spoke with a shaky:
Hermione and Ron had visited Harry frequently in the Hospital Wing to talk with him after he had woken up. Hermione didn't push for details on what had really happened but Ron was making everything worse.
Ron had tried to get Harry to tell him what happened that night but Ron ended up losing his patience and yelled at Harry saying that he was just attention seeking and wanted all the fame after Harry refused to tell him for a third time. Madam Pomfrey had then thrown him out of the Hospital Wing for irritating her patients after Hermione had punched Ron in the nose. Hermione had hugged Harry and told him Ron was just a prat and deserved to be kicked in the balls. She then had told him that if he ever wanted to talk about it then he could come to her. She had then left him so he could get some rest. Hermione was always there for him….(AN: Hermy stays! YAY!)
"I will come for you this summer Harry." A whispered promise. Harry was scared of going back to that house and the promise gave him a tiny sliver of hope even though he still doubted the Dark Lord's promise. Why would He want to help? He was just a freak. Why would anyone want to help him? Even his once thought best friend had abandoned him. Harry felt dead to the world. He rolled over onto his side and closed his emerald eyes tiredly.
Harry sat in the train compartment alone and gazed out over land that was racing by. Rain pattered against the glass as he rested his hollowed cheek against the cool glass. He was returning to the Dursley's for the summer holidays. He felt so helpless. He had to return there. Harry wanted to just…disappear. To never be seen again. He didn't want to return to that house.
Hermione had asked him if he wanted to sit with her and Neville in their compartment but he had refused and said he needed some alone time. Neville and Hermione were very understanding and that if he changed his mind they would be there.
Harry felt the sting behind his eyes first before the wetness trailing down his cheeks. He felt some sort of hope that Voldemort would come for him and end it all. He wished to die. It was strange…He had not thought of killing himself in years. Now he would wish for anything than to return there….The Dark Lord could give him that. Peace.
Harry caressed his wrist silently before his teary eyes found the faint pink lines that ran across the underside of the wrists. Only he could see them. The great works of glamours. He had discovered the spell for glamours before he even started Hogwarts. He had gotten extra charms and potions books and discovered the spell. He didn't want anyone to know about his cutting. He had stopped doing it because of Hogwarts in the hope that magic was real. It had given him something to believe in, but even that had slowly diminished over the years.
Harry prayed that Voldemort would come and end it all….All he could do was pray….and wait.
Barty Crouch Jr., a thin brown haired man dressed in patched robes, kneeled in front of a large obsidian stone throne while his fellow Deatheaters outlined the ornate room. His Lord, dressed in regale dark green robes, sat before him waiting for a report on the latest issues and events that had happened at the school.
"The old auror is dead." Barty began. "Killed him once the train left Hogsmead. Left him in the trunk for the old coot to find him." Barty looked up to his master. Lord Voldemort nodded softly and motioned his hand to continue. Barty hesitated ever so slightly before he spoke again. "The boy….He returned unconscious with the Diggory boy's body. I brought him up to my office and healed, fixed him up a little. There was…" Barty trailed off not really knowing how to continue. He had been contacted by Voldemort just as he brought Harry to his office so he could kill him. The patronus orb had explained what had happened and that the Dark Lord would explain in more detail later.
Barty swallowed thickly. He hated abuse, being a victim himself. At least Bartimus Crouch Sr. was dead…He had spoken to the Dark Lord when the boy was in the Hospital Wing and his Lord had explained what they had discovered about the boy.
But Barty had discovered something of his own about Harry…..
"He had scars on his wrist!" Barty burst out. "He has cut himself! They are all over his wrists! He's also wears Glamours. Strong ones at that! He's been covering this up for years it seems! That blasted eye can't even see through the powerful magic protecting the rest of his body! When I undid the glamours…." Barty shook his head angrily. "I had wondered all year and now I know why! He has been hurting himself and hiding what they," Barty snarled, "have done to him!" Barty's kneeling body shook with uncontrollable rage.
The other Deatheaters stared in shock at each other. Thinking about the boy who they thought was pampered was cutting his wrists, to just kill himself or take the pain away, was a shock. They could not imagine a child so young going to such drastic measures….
The Dark Lord closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose, the slits flaring, to try and control his emotions. Many wouldn't believe it but the horcruxes didn't take away one's feeling or emotions but really seals up mere memory of an emotion, a piece of a soul, within an object. You still have that emotion and memory but it is just placed into a vessel. For example, Nagini, his familiar and faithful friend, was created with the strong emotion of happiness. Nagini had always been there for him and was almost like an older annoying sister that likes to boss you around or likes to just annoy you. That was definitely Nagini… Also when a horcrux is destroyed the soul doesn't die, for souls never truly die, but returns to the person who placed it there in the first place. It was the best way to have immortality.
Voldemort's spidery fingers caressed his temples, a new headache making a dull ache there, and sighed softly. The child had been through so much…
Lord Voldemort was surprised to find himself wanting to care for the boy. He had it bad in the orphanage where the muggles beat him for his magic but Harry had it worse for his own family, his flesh and blood, did this to him. He was also surprised by the fatherly emotions that seeped into his mind that made him want to protect the boy. The same boy who was prophesized to kill him. This is where things get tricky…..
Voldemort had his suspicions of the prophecy that had him go after Harry in the first place. He had already asked Lucius to gain access to the Room of Prophecies. If Lucius could pick up the prophecy and bring it here for examination he could not only hear the full version of the prophecy but examine to find the possibilities of what it means and see if it is truly real or not. He was still waiting for Lucius to return from the Ministry to hear what the man was able to accomplish. Lucius couldn't directly pick up the prophecy without curse proof gloves but he could find it and get around the spells that protected the crystal ball that held the prophecy. Voldemort hoped the blond Deatheater returned soon.
"Thank you Barty." Voldemort sighed, closing his eyes. "I will see to it when we take him from his relatives in a week's time." He could not go and take Harry right away. He had to get around the wards and protections that the old coot had placed around the boy's house. He already knew where Harry lived but just couldn't get to him.
"My Lord! We should get him right away and not dally while those pieces of filth hurt him anymore!" Barty snarled at the snake-like man before his eyes widened in fear since he had just back-talked his own Lord. Barty bowed his head as the other Deatheaters shifted around him for they too knew of the snake-like man's temper. "Forgive me my Lord." Barty whispered fearfully, frosty blue eyes peering up at the man in the throne through dark brown bangs.
Voldemort sighed. "You are right Barty." The Deatheaters and Barty looked up at him in surprise. Lord Voldemort usually responded to defiance with the Cruciatus Curse. "We should get him right away." The Dark Lord stood and swept past the kneeling Barty and over to the left of his throne where a high ceilinged window was placed. He leaned forward and rested his palms upon the wooden sill, gazing out over the grounds of his home at Slytherin Manor in an unplottable location. He breathed in deeply before letting out a long sigh. "If I could I would pick him up at the station today but the old man will more than likely have parts of his damned Order there. From that point the boy will be placed in that horrid place that man calls a home." Voldemort growled deep within his chest and swung around sharply to his followers, his ruby slitted eyes flashing with rage. "The wards around the house AREwhat is stalling his rescue. That old coot has made it difficult to accomplish." He snarled and turned back to the window. "Dismissed." He hissed to his followers.
Lord Voldemort stared out onto the grounds as his Deatheaters left the throne room after his dismissal. The man sighed and rested his pale forehead against the glass, the coolness soothing his aching head. He had promised to come and get the child and it was proving to be difficult….
The double doors to the empty throne room banged open, interrupting the Dark Lord's from his drifting thoughts, as a drenched Lucius Malfoy practically slipped and slid into the room on the rainwater that was dripping off his unique, and expensive, silk clothing. Voldemort turned in surprise to face the blond Deatheater.
"My…Lord…!" The man panted from running across the grounds in the pouring rain. "My Lord!" Lucius looked up, silver eyes wide and frantic. His usually straight blond hair was plastered to his head due to rain and his cheeks were flushed from his run. He looked so unlike the usually perfect and well carried Malfoy Head that everyone was so used to.
"What is it Lucius?" Voldemort asked looking at his most loyal and trustworthy follower with concern.
"My Lord the prophecy!" Lucius breathed. He was finally starting to regain his breath. "The prophecy…It doesn't exist."
(AN: Ooooh! Cliffy! I like the way I have had Voldemort changing his views of Harry. I always wondered what Voldemort would be like if he was a father and I always wondered; since Harry's secret power is his love, why doesn't Harry use that love to change Voldemort instead of killing him. I always liked Tom/Voldie and Harry father/son stories.)