The Manor
Harrys legs were aching, he’d been crouched here for so long waiting. One day had passed and he couldn’t sit around doing nothing anymore, that morning he’d climbed on top of the wardrobe by the door and was waiting for Barty to come in with food, as he’d done the day before. It was a terrible plan, he knew it was terrible and probably wouldn’t work, but maybe he could catch him by surprise, grab his wand and bolt out of the door. Voldemort had said that he needed Harry alive, so hopefully even if he failed, he wouldn’t be killed for this…he could hear footsteps outside, this was it. Harry tensed his legs, hearing the clunk of the lock and watching as the door opened. Barty walked into the room, he paused, too close to the door, just a little bit further and-
Harry leapt from the wardrobe and landed on the mans shoulders, causing him to stumble and-oh no, Nagini, she was here. Barty tripped over Nagini and fell to the ground. Naginis lashing tail caused Harry to stumble off of Barty out of her writhing body as it wrapped around Barty and squeezed. He abandoned all plans to grab Bartys wand, and legged it out the door instead. He practically threw himself down a dark, narrow flight of stairs, pausing briefly at the bottom to make sure no one else was around before running down and around the corner of another long corridor. He could hear Bartys shouts and after another flight of stairs, found himself in a kitchen, with a stone floor, a table in the middle and-DOOR, a door, he grabbed the handle and was immediately thrown back, crashing into a chair tucked by the table. Harry was winded for a second but started to get up when Barty came crashing into the room, murder in his eyes, intensified by the general dishevelment of his appearance from the tussle with Nagini.
“You fucking brat,” Bartys wand was in his hand as he began to approach Harry who, beginning to panic, grabbed the chair he’d just crashed into and threw it at Barty. Barty looked feral as he batted it away with his wand, and Harry threw everything he could, picking up another chair, a cup, a bowl, there was a block of knives he tossed, and Barty had had enough. He slashed his wand and Harry couldn’t breathe, his neck began to burn, his lungs were screaming in pain, some kind of spell, but he couldn’t, there was nothing he could do. Barty waved his wand again, and Harry was flung across the room, crashing into the wall before falling and landing on some of the broken cups and chairs that had also been flung violently this way by Barty. He felt the impact, the odd angles of the chairs battering and abusing his body, maybe even piercing his flesh and the sharp cuts from the broken shards, but nothing hurt as much as his throat, his lungs, another slash and he was choking on blood. It came pouring out and Barty picked up a knife. Harry started to crawl, but Barty was there, his hand grabbing a fistful of Harrys head and smashed it down into the ground. He raised Harry up slightly and placed the knife to his neck, preparing to slash his throat, preparing to kill him, when there was a cry and Harry was dropped.
Through hazy eyes and a face covered in blood, Harry managed to look over and see Barty staggering backwards, as…Nagini attacked him! She was biting him over and over…
Harry drifted back into consciousness, seeing the movement of a slithering body near his own in the corner of his eye, and hearing odd soothing noises coming from the snake as she moved agitatedly nearby. “Master is coming, he’s coming, stay warm, stop leaking..”. Harry moved his head slightly up and felt sick when his eyes met those of another. Barty was sat in the corner, propped by the cupboards behind him, his eyes glazed, staring straight into Harrys own. His skin was a strange colour, his mouth blood stained, his neck! Harrys scar began to burn as he passed out.
“Harry…Harry! Stupid child. Was killing Barty really necessary?”
“Would you rather the boy was dead?”
“I don’t see how THIS is far off from it. I can’t fix him here, we must go.”
“Can I eat the other?”
“No, I need you to watch the boy, Barty would take too long to digest and you’d be useless for months”
Harry heard faint disgruntled mumblings as arms gently picked him up off the floor and began to walk away.
He’d already been at the manor for a week by now, but he’d seen little of the Malfoy family home as he’d been recovering from whatever curse Barty had put on him. He went cold just thinking of the week, Voldemort being in such close proximity, pouring potions down his throat, casting spells. Nagini a constant weight at his side, feet, legs, head, anywhere she could get without actually smothering him. The pain had gone after the first few days, just some slight aches but the difficulty breathing lingered for a while afterwards. Dudleys old clothes had finally been through too much however, and he was given robes to wear as well as, surprisingly, his wand. Voldemort was stood in his room now, half sitting against a chest of drawers by the door with his arms crossed, and Harry felt tense in every muscle of his body, the urge to flee, to jump out the window even to get away was gnawing at him.
“You’re giving me…my wand?” Harry asked.
Voldemort glowered at him, “I don’t expect you know anything worth worrying about, better you have something to defend yourself with.”
“Against you?”
“Against the growing number of my Death Eaters within this house,” Voldemort hissed out. “I control them, but they can’t be trusted not to attack you, especially if you…provoke them.”
“And you…don’t want them to attack me? You aren’t going to kill me, and you’re…concerned about my safety?” Harry asked, bewildered and burning with curiosity as to why Voldemort seemed to want him alive and, well! Another, much more murderous glower was sent his way.
“You will behave, and you won’t try to escape again, and you won’t get yourself killed. You can leave this room, but preferably don’t.” Voldemort said shortly as he began to look at where Harrys scar was again. “I need you alive, only until I can…” and he tailed off distractedly.
Harry thought on this, and decided enough was enough. “What if I just jumped out that window?”
“You can’t it’s warded,” Voldemort blinked.
“But what if I found some other way of harming myself or getting myself killed, why is that important to you? Why do you need me alive? Why did Nagini kill Barty?”. Voldemort was looking him in the eyes now, which Harry found unnerving, but he could never seem to look away. The man seemed to see something though that frustrated him further, as he closed his eyes and tilted his head down for a moment.
Abruptly Voldemort began talking again, "I cannot be killed. I took precautions against this years ago, and known to none but myself I split my soul into many pieces, hiding those pieces in various places so if my body was harmed, I would still be tethered to this world." Voldemort flicked his wand at Harry. "You will not share these secrets, because if you do you will be hunted by all who oppose me and they will kill you in an attempt to kill me, and if I am still in possession of you when you tell anyone then I shall hide you away in a dark, empty pit so terrible you would wish you had been eaten by Nagini. In a moment I will enter your mind and hide this memory from even the most skilled of legilimens."
“What?” Harry interrupted, his eyes wide and a slight sick feeling overtaking him at the idea of…of splitting your soul.
“The night I killed your parents,” He paused, looking at Harry who furrowed his brow back. “I tried to kill you, a prophecy was made and I believed I had to kill you.” Harry stood rigidly, he wasn’t entirely sure if he was breathing, but for whatever reason, Voldemort was just telling him everything. The answer that Dumbledore hadn’t wanted to give him in the hospital wing, could Voldemort be telling the truth just now? “But when I cast the spell, it rebounded. Your mother had protected you, it was old magic, I should have foreseen but no matter. When Quirrell tried to take the stone from you he could not, he turned to ash and I needed to fix that, and now. Now I can touch you, without harm, as the ritual used to restore me to my body required a drop of your blood.”
“What!?” For the second time Harry interrupted.
“Be quiet. We share blood, which means your mothers protection has passed to me as well, I no longer pose a threat to it. I thought that was perhaps why you could speak to Nagini, some sort of shared connection.”
“But-“ Harry cut himself off, not liking the way Voldemort had began to caress his wand, or the glower he sent his way. But he didn’t know what was so strange about understanding a snake who was speaking perfectly good English. He also felt anger growing at the idea of Voldemort taking his blood to bypass a protection his mother gave him as a baby.
“Parseltongue.” Voldemort spat out. “It’s the ability to talk to snakes, we must be the only two people left who can speak it. To most, Naginis words would be the hisses of a dumb animal but you can understand and speak to her. I thought it might be because of the ritual, but then I saw you had done it before.” Harry felt a bit disgusted that he shared any sort of trait with Voldemort, but what did he mean done it before? He’d never been able to understand a snake before, except…could he mean that day at the zoo? But how had he-? Before he could speak, Voldemort continued. “There was only one possibility left, and now I know it’s there I can feel it, in your worthless body.” Voldemort said agitatedly, glaring at Harry, clearly disgusted. “That night in Godrics Hollow, when I supposedly died, I experienced agony unlike almost anything else. It was agony akin to the times I had ripped my soul apart. I see now that a piece of my soul, separated from me that night, and latched onto the only living thing in the room. You.” Harry began to shake, that couldn’t be true. Surely not, there must be another explanation. “You, Harry Potter, are a container for a fragment of my soul. You, are a horcrux.”
Harry stood frozen, he was wrong, he was wrong. That couldn’t be true, his breathing grew stronger and he took a small step backwards. He was wrong, “You’re wrong. You’re wrong that’s not true.”
“Trust me, I wish it were, but as I said I can sense it. I am telling you this, because you have some stupid notion that I care you are safe and well. I need you alive, until I can retract my soul piece, and then you shall die Harry Potter. I am telling you this, because you need to understand that I will not allow you to run away, or die, and even if you were to escape, Dumbledore and all those who oppose me, it is in their best interests to kill you in order to destroy a piece of my soul.” Voldemort remained where he was, glowering at Harry as though he was a particularly irksome fly that would not go away. A problem that became more complex the more you tried to solve it. Harry himself, was simply shattered. There wasn’t any way around this, Voldemort wouldn’t keep him alive for any other reason than this, he wouldn’t be looking at him like that if he wasn’t just as appalled at the situation as Harry. Harry refused to believe Dumbledore would kill him, refused to believe he couldn’t find out a way to fix this, but then again…
Voldemort stood up suddenly, “I have to go, stay here. DON’T go looking for trouble.” Voldemort warned, apparently having got a grasp of Harrys personality. He left the room, slamming the doors behind him and Harry winced slightly. He felt leaden, weighed down, he felt disgust at himself, like he was contaminated. Maybe he should destroy himself, bring Voldemort down with him. As Harry moved to sit on the bed, alone with his thoughts, a great CRACK sounded directly behind him and he turned and stumbled backwards with a shout.
“HARRY POTTER!” Screeched a small creature on the bed, with bat-like ears, huge green eyes and dressed in what looked like a dirty tea towel. He was the strangest creature Harry had ever seen, and wondered if he should get his wand out.
“er-Who are you?” He asked.
“Harry Potter, asks Dobby his name!? What a kind, generous soul Harry Potter is. My name is Dobby, Dobby the House Elf. I have come to help you escape sir!”. The little elf squeaked out. Harry jumped to his feet.
“You can get me out of here? Can you, er, get me to Professor Dumbledore, at Hogwarts?” Harry said excitedly
“Not to Hogwarts, but Dobby knows how to sneak around the house, and can get you out of the grounds.” Here Dobby drooped his head and begun to ring his hands, stepping closer to Harry conspiratorially as though suddenly wary they may be overheard. “The dark lord can sense us house elves magic in this house, he would notice if we were to leave magically, but Dobby can show you the way to go!” He whispered.
“Great, when can we go Dobby?” Harry asked, slightly worried about whether or not he should trust Dobby, but seeing little other options available.
“Now sir, Now! We must go straight away, He has left the grounds with the others, we must leave now!” Dobby jumped off the bed, grabbed Harrys robe sleeve and began to pull him out the door. The elf took him to the kitchens where they snuck out a back door, various other small creatures tutting and crying out to Dobby scoldingly.
“Why are they mad at you Dobby?” Harry asked once they were at the door. Dobbys face dropped into a scowl.
“They don’t think it’s right for a house elf to disobey his master, and-“ Dobby looked longingly at the fire and pokers “But, Dobby was never instructed not to help Harry Potter escape. And Dobbys masters are…are…they’re…wicked” Dobby whispered before throwing himself to the ground and beating his head against it. “Bad Dobby Bad Dobby!” He cried as Harry tried to stop him after overcoming his shock. “Yes, thank you Harry Potter, Dobby must punish himself for speaking ill of his masters.”
“Er-right, we should get…going Dobby. Away from here, away from your masters.” Harry said, unsure of the little elf.
“Yes, yes we must go.” And Dobby opened the door and led them out into the night.