Warning: Desolation

“So…er- there’s a slight chance this might…peel the skin off my face…no, that can’t be right.” Harry said looking down at the medical book as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror. “Can it?” He asked, looking up into the mirror to see Voldemort leaning sideways into the door frame behind him with his arms crossed, looking unimpressed.

“It’s your research Harry,” the man replied.

“Er…right, ok, I’ll just-“ Harry said haltingly, he balanced the book on the sink and picked up his wand. He decided to practice his wand movement first, and after the second attempt (not having seen Voldemorts eyes narrowing slightly) Harry opened his mouth to say the words for the spell.

“Stop, no!” Voldemort said as he suddenly had moved forwards and grabbed Harrys wand hand in mid air. “Show me what you’re doing from the book,” he said shortly. Harry was surprised.

“I hadn’t even done anything yet,” Harry muttered before stepping aside and pointing to the passage in the book he had been working from. “I thought it was this variation of the spell that would work?” He said questioningly. Voldemort leaned over the book, before standing up straight again.

“No, that one is for a slightly different kind of injury, and in a different location of the body. You need this one,” and he pointed to a different spell slightly further down the page. Harry leaned forwards this time and furrowed his brow.

“They’re exactly the same thing!” He exclaimed.

“No, you’re just not paying attention, the wording is slightly different and the wand movement significantly so. See, like this,” and Voldemort demonstrated with Harry watching aptly. “Try again,” he encouraged. Harry stood in front of the mirror as Voldemort stepped slightly back. The boy waved his wand carefully and spoke the words, he would be feeling an itching around his eye and as he watched, the skin began to stitch itself back together, healing completely and leaving no trace of a scar or bruise behind.

“Ha! I did it,” Harry said excitedly, amazed that he had managed to heal himself…with help of course. Harry looked over to Voldemort in the mirror, who surprisingly had the tiniest of smiles on his face and was back to leaning on the doorframe.

“Congratulations, your face is partially less scarred than before.” Voldemort said with a smirk as he pushed himself away from the door and turned to leave. “I have to get some work done before this evening, I suggest you do the same,” he said as he left. He had to prepare for some time away over the next few days, he needed to focus on an upcoming attempt to raid the Ministry and get down to the Department of Mysteries... it would require all his attention and he couldn't leave such an important undertaking to another. As he reached his room Voldemort heard Nagini following him and held the door to let her in before closing it.

“The boy is learning,” she hissed softly as he went and sat himself at his desk watching her.

“Yes, that does tend to happen when you give them books,” the dark lord muttered dryly looking at the papers in front of him.

“He is growing, and you are growing…fond I think,” Nagini spoke again. Voldemort paused before raising his eyes to look up at her darkly from under his brow as she curled herself into a warm patch of sun on the floor.

“What makes you say that, Nagini,” He said warningly.

“I know you better than any other,” she replied with a slight hint of smugness. Voldemort found his temper rising slightly.

“I am not fond of the boy, the horcrux — which you are yourself, don’t forget — is my only concern when it comes to that boy and I am hardly fond of it. It's caused nothing but trouble and suffering.” Voldemort replied, returning his attention to the work in front of him.

“Oh, of course,” she hissed, flicking her tongue out. “It is not the boy, only the soul fragment you care about…the soul fragment which only needs a body to live in…the state of the body does not matter does it?…strange then that you keep me close, and the boy relatively happy and entertained…” she continued, despite the fact she could quite clearly taste Voldemorts annoyance in the air.

“You’re quite right Nagini, horcruxes don’t need to be kept happy, perhaps I should start by keeping you in a cold, damp box for the rest of time?” He glared at her before deciding to add, “I am not fond of the boy, he’s weak and irritating, a poor excuse for a soul container, and-“

“And you’re definitely not fond of him,” Nagini interrupted with an amused twinkle in her eye. Voldemort stood up, his hand flicking towards the door which burst open, letting a draft come in as it banged against the furniture sat behind it.

“Get out. And leave me alone,” Voldemort said harshly, glaring at the snake. Nagini hissed at him, baring her fangs before slithering her way out of the door, muttering obscenities as she went. Once she was gone Voldemort let the door slam shut again and turned back to his work. But his eyes stared at the words, lost in thought. Harry was his horcrux, it was the soul fragment he cared about, keeping the boy…relatively happy only made sense when it came to keeping the body alive and protecting his soul. And yet…he didn’t NEED to do that, Nagini was meant to be the exception, the only living horcrux, his companion, the only being he had any sort of sense of…CARE, for.

But now, now there was Harry, and Voldemort still didn’t quite know what to make of the situation, or the boy for that matter. He was intelligent, a quick learner if not a bit stunted in his education, he wasn’t…unpleasant to be around. But no, he did not care for the boy. He was lord Voldemort, the dark lord, he who must not be named, he would be the most feared wizard of all time, the most powerful, and caring is a weakness. Weakness was something he sneered at, something lesser than him and something he did not have, something he refused to have. Lord Voldemort was not FOND of Harry Potter, and that was that.

With that, Voldemort returned his attention to the papers in front of him, his hair coming to rest over one eye, the last rays of sun hit him as the light beamed in through the window. He picked a stack of the papers up and let his eyes rake over the top page, he was about half way down the paper before he suddenly threw the pile onto the desk in irritation and sat back in his chair, out of the path of the sunshine, leaning on one of the arms and finding himself cursing talking snakes and their psychotic notions.

Harry began to wander down to the dining room once the sun had dipped down. The evenings were drawing in much sooner now, and there was a chill in the air, Summer must be almost over, if it wasn’t already, he mused. As he approached the dining room he found Nagini angrily zigzagging her way across the floor from the door of the room, as she approached him she merely hissed  and he jumped out of the way to let her past before watching her continue around the corner and out of sight. Wary of what awaited him in the dining room, Harry continued down the corridor and upon entering the room found Voldemort sat at the head of the table as usual, leaning on his thumb and forefinger on the arm of his chair, glaring into an empty bowl. Harry paused in the doorway, sensing a change in the atmosphere from earlier in the day, and wondering just what kind of a hissy fit [aha…ahaHA get it, pfff, yes I’m keeping that in] he and Nagini had gotten into. He could smell the cauldron of soup from there and eventually decided to brave the icy mood of the dark lord for the boon of hot broth and bread. As Harry slowly sat at his place, Voldemort didn’t move or indicate his awareness of Harrys presence, he merely drummed his fingers against the other arm of the chair with his free hand. Harry stared at the dark lord for a minute, before once again deciding that the mood swings of a dark lord were none of his concern and reaching out to ladle himself some soup.

Harry ate in silence, the light tapping of Voldemorts fingers on the chair, and the gratingly loud sounds of Harry eating, despite how quiet he was trying to be, were the only noises in the room. As he got to the bottom of his bowl, Harrys spoon began to scrape against the bowl like nails on chalkboard as he scooped up the dregs. Harry was never one to waste food, even in climates such as these and so he delicately continued dragging his spoon around the bowl, trying to get every last drop of the soup that he could.

“Harry,” Voldemort suddenly said and Harry froze, looking over to the dark lord whose fingers had stopped tapping, and whose eyes only had moved to glare at him darkly.

“er, yes,” Harry answered.

“Get out.” Voldemort said shortly. Harry continued to stare at Voldemort for only a moment longer before he put down his spoon and left the room quickly, pausing only to grab one last roll of bread as he left the room and the moody dark lord behind.

Harry returned to the library, wondering what all of that had been about, it must have been something to do with Voldemorts ‘work’, it couldn’t have been anything Harry had done…he hadn’t DONE anything. He decided to lie on the settee in front of the now lit fireplace and read some more of the medical book. He had been there for half an hour when he heard a noise, looked up and was surprisingly glad to see Nagini coming around the side of the settee and heading for the fireplace.

“Nagini,” Harry said “What were you and Voldemort speaking about before I came for dinner?” He asked. Nagini began to lay herself out in front of the hot flames.

“Private conversations, little one. I hope you are going to bed soon, I don’t want to settle here and have to move once I’ve fallen asleep,” she said eyeing up Harry from her spot on the floor.

“Uh, I didn’t think you would…er…with Voldemort being here…” Harry stuttered. While he was much more comfortable around Nagini, he still didn’t like going to sleep, or waking up for that matter, with her on his bed.

“Master is angry with me, and he won’t be sleeping tonight. You are going to bed now, yes?” the snake prompted. Harry sighed and put down his book, he was starting to get tired he supposed and so he rolled off the settee, catching himself as he thudded to the floor and shuffled over to Nagini. He lifted himself onto one knee.

“I think it’ll be easier if you climb onto my shoulders and I’ll try stand from here, you’re too heavy for me to lift.” He said, and once Nagini had complied he staggered to his feet and left to go to bed.

The following morning Harry came downstairs, noticing the burnt looking, or glowing orange leaves floating from the trees and feeling the cool breath of autumn air touching his face as he walked. He entered the dining room to the sight of Voldemort eating breakfast, but with dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t slept. “Morning” he muttered as he sat at the table.

“Good morning,” Voldemort replied as he put down his cutlery and reached for the newspaper on the table next to him. Harry ate his breakfast in silence for the most part. “How were your studies last night?” Voldemort asked distractedly as he read.

“Uh, I got some reading done but then I went to bed.” Harry admitted, eyeing the snake who had slithered in after him and curled her way onto Voldemorts lap. He guessed they had cooled off with one another, but Voldemort was still acting a bit off.

“Nagini, you must leave him to study,” Voldemort correctly guessed. “Actually, she won’t be an issue for a while, and I won’t be here to oversee your studies. I’ll be away for at least a few days, somethings come up.” Voldemort explained briefly, never once looking at Harry but instead reading the paper.

“Oh, ok.” Harry said, trying not to act excited at that, but surprisingly finding it rather easy as a slight sadness entered his chest. He looks up to notice Voldemorts eyes flicking away from him before the man folds up the paper and puts it down on the table next to Harry.

“I expect you to keep up with your studies, DON’T do anything stupid.” Voldemort says as he stands and begins to leave the room. Harry finds himself struggling with two emotions of joy and sadness, joy that the dark lord was leaving, but sadness at the very same prospect as well. He told himself it was just the potential loneliness that was making him feel that way. Not that he’d be alone for much longer hopefully. He quickly stamped down those thoughts and looked up to see Voldemort reaching the dining room door and pausing. He looked back at Harry for a brief moment, Nagini slithering along behind him, and he looked like he was about to say something before he turned and left the room. Harry took a deep breath, realising that that might have been the last time he would ever see Voldemort, with any luck. He turned and, seeing the newspaper sat there, he picked it up excitedly and began to flick through it. He couldn’t find anything about himself or his disappearance, maybe wizard kids went missing all the time? maybe it wasn’t actually that big of a deal. Harry did find that hard to believe that any kid could go missing and it wouldn’t be in the papers, but, without meaning to sound big headed, he had thought that HIS disappearance might have been a slightly bigger deal, just going by what even the mention of his name meant to the wizarding community and the stir he had caused first at the Leakey Cauldron and then at Hogwarts as well.

He caught sight of something in one of the pages near the front actually, his name as the header of an article.

Hunt for Harry Potter at a Stale Mate.

Rita Skeeter

Months have now gone by since the wizarding world

learnt of the disappearance of the young wizard, Harry James Potter.

Harry, having first come to fame after his mysterious defeat of the

infamous Dark Lord — known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named —

at the age of one, had just completed his first year at Hogwarts

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when there was a tragic accident

on the way home from the train station.

Harry was found to be missing from the scene and while the

Ministry has been looking for him ever since, heart strings

have been tugging these past months and the hopes and well-wishes

of the public have been sent his way, wherever he may be.

The investigation has brought up insights into the boys home life,

and raises questions as to the nature of this 'accident' that caused

the death of his Aunt and Uncle. I went to the Muggle neighbourhood

where Mr Potter lived and spoke to many of his neighbours who described

our 'Saviour' as a strange, quiet boy always getting into trouble who seemed

ungrateful of and even, dare I say, murderously hateful towards his Aunt and

Uncle who generously took him in after his parents murder.

After months of searching for the boy, word from the Auror Department

is that the trail has gone cold and unless new leads come to light,

the search for Harry must come to an end.

The Department and the Ministry have sadly concluded

that they fear Harry to be dead and will have to reluctantly turn their

attentions to other matters.

There are some, such as Albus Dumbledore (Headmaster of Hogwarts

School), who have spoken out against the Ministries decision and

who have had the nerve to suggest that Harry Potter was in fact abducted,

and by none other than the notorious and long-dead Dark Lord, who the Ministry has

long reported to be dead, with the Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge himself

assuring the Wizarding World last month that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

was "most certainly dead". Despite his insistence of an abduction by the evil

Dark Lord himself, Albus Dumbledore says Mr Potter is still alive and we must 

presume the Headmaster believes Harry Potter is spending his time 

at He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Nameds' Summer Holiday Home.

For the rest of us, it seems the only way forwards is to accept the Ministry's

decision, and quietly move on from the tragic life of Harry Potter.

Harry put the paper down. They were stopping looking for him, they’d given up. They...they were suggesting he might have killed his relatives and was...what? Dangerous? Demented? But Professor Dumbledore hadn’t given up, he knew Harry was still alive. Harry wondered if Voldemort had left the paper expecting it to dishearten him, but it only fuelled Harrys desire to get back to Hogwarts. With that he ran up stairs and into his room, pulling out Tom Riddles diary.

Tom, Voldemorts gone for a few days. We should go now!

Harry, what did he say?

He’d be gone for a few days, something had come up. That’s all he said. Where is this place you were talking about?

While Harry was waiting for a response he started packing his things into his bag and trunk. He went over and read Tom Riddles response.

Harry I think you should wait. Just one more day to be sure he’s really gone and not just testing you.

Harry froze…he couldn’t wait one more day, he simply couldn’t, what if Voldemort came back early. Well that was Riddles point he supposed, what if he tried to leave and was found out and the diary was found out. Then he wouldn’t even have Tom, or any hope of escaping this place. Not that he knew exactly how Tom meant to do that anyway…here Harry’s mistrust of the boy sunk back in, and a growing anxiousness around wherever this place was that he wanted Harry to go. Perhaps one more day wouldn’t hurt?

Harry?

Ok, one more day. But if Voldemorts not back then we’ll leave first thing tomorrow.

Harry woke at the crack of dawn. He had hardly slept he was so nervous, but quickly pushed back the covers and got out of bed. Voldemort hadn’t showed up the previous night for supper and Harry had spent the day staring unfocused at his books before getting up and pacing around the house. It felt like an age by the time evening and then night fell.

He dressed quickly and made his way downstairs. No Voldemort, No Nagini. With relief Harry quickly grabbed some food from the cupboards in the kitchen and ran back up to his room and packed them in his bag. He had packed everything he could into the bag he had been given so he could leave behind the trunk with school books and everything unnecessary. His invisibility cloak from his father was lying out on the bed ready for him to wear, it wasn’t much use around the house up until now, but a bit of extra cautiousness couldn’t go amiss.

Next to the cloak lay the diary. With a deep breath, Harry opened the pages and wrote to Tom, telling him Voldemort hadn’t showed up, and asking where he should go now.

Excellent, when you leave head down the hill but take the first left turn. This will loop you up around the back of the town, you will find a right turn leading you downhill and at the bottom of this hill there should be an entrance through a hedge. I imagine the hedge will actually be quite overgrown by now, but push your way through and you will find a shack. The object is under a floorboard inside, but I will be able to show you which one from there. Don’t forget to pack the diary Harry, and good luck.

Harry quickly memorised the instructions before they disappeared and then…with regret he picked up the diary and went to go hide it on top of the wardrobe. He found his mind strangely fuzzy all of a sudden, and his limbs struggled to do what he wanted them to. Something was stabbing into his head, but with a bit of willpower he managed to let go of the book atop the wardrobe and backed away. He picked up his bag, covered himself with the cloak and left the room, feeling more clear headed the further from the book that he got.

Harry didn’t trust Tom Riddle. He felt awful, although whatever that was that had just happened certainly made him feel a bit more like he was doing the right thing, but now that he knew where the house was, he could always tell Dumbledore about it and they could plan a rescue of Tom Riddle. If he doesn’t know how to use the object then he can always return for the diary and apologise, but he had a bad feeling about taking the diary to where it wanted to go, so for now he would leave it behind.

Once out the door, Harry followed Riddles instructions and took the first left, from there it was a long winding road looping around the village and Harry began to wander if one of these field entrances was meant to count as the next right turn, but eventually there was a clear road to the right that descended into the valley. At the bottom of the road, just as Riddle had said, Harry was confronted with a thick, thorny hedgerow and upon seeing no indication of any kind of an entrance, Harry decided to just attack the middle and try to wade his way through. Upon his first encounter with thorns attacking several different places on his body, Harry suddenly remembered that he was a wizard.

He took out his wand and suddenly realised that he didn’t know what spell to try here. He didn’t know any spells for cutting, the only fire spell he knew specifically didn’t burn. Annoyed at himself, he put his wand away, vowing to study harder in the future. He took off the cloak, not wanting to damage it he put it away in his bag before plunging into the hedgerow. He was making progress, but slowly, tearing branches from in front of him, feeling thorns scraping his hands, arms, legs. He began to see something through the other side of the hedge but as he continued forwards…he heard something whispering.

Go to sleep Harry

He froze and wheeled his neck around, looking for the source of the voice.

So tired…go to sleep.

Harry felt a deep fear in his gut as a weariness fell over him and his limbs began to grow leaden. He should sleep…he really was rather tired, and what harm could a quick nap do really? He felt his eyes began to drift closed and his head began to dro-no! No he mustn’t sleep, he HAD to get through that hedge. He HAD to get away from here. With a jolt of energy he hadn’t had a moment ago, Harry threw his arms forwards again and forced his way through, bursting out the other side of the hedge and falling to a heap on the ground. He was breathing hard, and he turned to see the slight path he had forged through the branches, but there was no one there.

Standing up, Harry looked around and found himself to be in a clearing of some sort. It was a bit overgrown around the edges, but far on the other side was clearly a rundown old shack surrounded by trees. The shack felt menacing and Harry found himself wishing he was back in the hedge, Tom hadn’t warned him about…well whatever that was, but perhaps he didn’t know about it. But then what else didn’t he know about? The clearing was…dark, unusually dark and looking up Harry was shocked to see the shade of the sky, it looked…but no that wasn’t possible, it looked like it was evening time. But he’d set off first thing, and the sky was high in the sky when he reached the hedges. Just how long was he in there for?

With a shudder Harry started towards the house, hoping his absence hadn’t been noticed yet. Coming to the front he paused and stepped past the door which was half off its hinges and into the shack. As he did he felt a shiver run down his spine and his eyes squinted in the darkness. He pulled out his wand. “Lumos” he whispered. He had learnt something useful these last few months after all. There wasn’t much in the shack, a couple of worn chairs thrown around the room and an empty fireplace, as he moved the light around one of the floorboards caught Harrys eye. Not for any reason he could see by eye, but there was…something about that floorboard that drew Harry to it. He went forwards and, putting his wand in his teeth, Harry began to prize it up. He felt another shiver run down his spine but he had managed to lift the floorboard and there, underneath, was a ring.

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickling up and everything in his body told him NOT to touch the ring, but this was the only way. Riddle had told him there was an object that could save him, and he was desperate. If there was a way for him to get home, then he had to try. Harry reached out to take the ring, but the moment his finger made contact he was immediately and violently flung towards the roof, his back and head smashing into the wood above painfully before his body was thrown around the room like a doll, hitting every wall and object, the force moving him acting like a spoilt child having a tantrum with a toy. He could feel something slicing into his skin all over, cuts and slashes appearing on his body while an immense pressure was on his head, crushing, and a tightness around his chest, squeezing, choking him. Harry couldn’t even begin to find his limbs to attempt to make everything stop but finally he was flung into a dark corner where he lay in a crumpled heap and passed out.

Harry couldn’t tell how long he was unconscious for as he cracked his eyes open and his breath wheezed in and out of his body. He could feel cuts breaking open as he began to move, everything ached and throbbed, and his head felt like if he wasn’t careful it would crack open and his brain would leak out like an egg. He managed to roll onto his front and crawl towards the door, a brief glance towards the floorboard chilled Harry to the bone and he tried to speed his efforts towards what he hoped was the safety of the outdoors. Had Riddle known about this? Was this part of some plan of his? Harry couldn’t allow his mind to stray, it was hard enough just making his limbs move as he felt cuts reopening and blood smearing on the floor as he dragged himself along. Eventually he reached the door, and found he could see very little, night had long since fallen but he could make out his breath in the air in front of him, which explained why he was shivering.

Harry managed to pull himself out of the house, and from there he used the door frame to pull himself shakingly to his feet. He staggered across the clearing, gasping in breaths of air, his body lilting to the side and pulling him off course and then correcting to throw himself back in the right direction of the gap in the hedge. Harrys feet began to fall over themselves as he neared the hedge, he reached out his hand to make contact with one of the branches and was immediately thrown off his feet once again. He flew backwards through the air before slamming into the centre of the clearing on his back, his head cracking on the ground beneath him. He could only stare up into the night sky above as his world once again went dark.