Warning: Desolation

A cool breeze aired through the clearing, catching on the misshapen form lying in the centre. Harry could feel the wind flushing over his legs and torso, his hair ruffled slightly and he could see a brightness through his eyelids. There were no bird calls. The area was dead to all but the wind in the trees. He managed to crack his eyes open and saw the break of day silhouetting the trunks to his right, the rising sun stabbing into his eyes while the wind gusted through his wheezing lungs. He closed his eyes for what was surely only a moment. When he opened them the sun was suddenly directly above him, and there were hands grasping and shaking his shoulders. Maybe he’d gone through the hedge again at some point…?

He could make out a voice. Someone grabbed his face and started hitting it lightly. It was…Voldemort. He looked, angry? But more scared. Harry must have walked into a really bad place if it managed to even scare Voldemort. He couldn’t remember entirely where he was actual-

“Harry!” The voice said above him and Harrys eyes sharpened, his ears tuned in. He could see Voldemort looking at him. His wand was in his hand as he began muttering spells. Harry wanted to say something and as he went to open his mouth he stopped, feeling sensations return to him and overwhelmingly that meant pain. Something was dripping out of his nose and over his lips. He could taste blood, his eyes looked up to meet Voldemorts before he felt his whole body start to shake and his eyes roll into his head. In his last moments of consciousness, he felt arms lift him and then he passed out as a tightening sensation surrounded him, like being squeezed through a tube.

Harrys existence was very confusing after that. He could only feel pain and when conscious he writhed, screaming, barely breathing, unable to think, before passing out again. Potions were poured down his throat. Spells were muttered over him and hands held him down. Harry wasn’t sure how long this went on for before he felt things shift into a sort of peaceful lull. He thought he must have slept for a while, but he felt consciousness ebb through his veins and he opened his eyes whilst not drenched in agony for once. He found himself staring at the ceiling in his room.

He could feel a weight to his left and upon shifting his eyes down he could see Nagini curled up next to him on the bed. For the first time, Harry found himself comforted a bit by her presence. It was grounding.

“Hello” He hissed hoarsely to her.

“You are awake.” She sounded surprised.

“How-How long was I asleep for?” He asked.

“A few days” came the voice of barely concealed anger to Harrys right. Harry turned his head and found Voldemort sitting in a chair next to the bed, his legs crossed, his countenance weary and agitated. He was watching Harry with a menacing look on his face, only accentuated by the dark circles under his eyes. “And might I ask, to get straight to the point here, what exactly you were doing so far from home? And why I found a little black book perched atop your wardrobe?” Harrys vision was bleary, but he could see Voldemorts expression growing more and more threatening the longer he spoke. Harry was confused, where…what was Voldemort talking about? Home? Was he talking about here or somewhere else? He’d gone on a walk…to the shack?

Harry wasn’t sure what happened just then, but he must have passed out for a moment, as suddenly Voldemort was sitting on the bed. He was pulling down Harrys lower eyelids and scrutinising him. Harry tried to swat him away, but suddenly found the small motion had made his heart pound in his chest and his breaths begin to come in pants as he grew fatigued.

“I’m afraid you came across one of my nastier curses, put in place to prevent anyone stealing MY things.” Voldemort said with barely concealed rage. “You’re lucky I found the diary or your corpse would have fertilised those soils for many years to come. Of course, you could have avoided this by simply staying put like you were supposed to.” He continued examining Harry as he spoke, his hands harsh. It was only then that Harry remembered fully what had happened and where he had been and he felt what little blood was probably left in him drain from his face.

“Tom Riddle,” Harry finally said. Voldemorts hands stopped and his eyes jumped to Harrys face. “Was he…are you…related?” At Harrys question a sneer appeared on Voldemorts face.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle was the name I was born with, a common name I loathed and shed during my school years.” Voldemort said disparagingly to Harry like he was a simpleton.

“So-So Tom Riddle,” And Harrys eyes flicked to the top of the wardrobe where the diary no longer was, “He’s…your son?” he asked, remembering what Riddle had said about his father also being called Tom Riddle. Had Voldemort gotten married? Had he tried to kill his own son?

“No,” Voldemort said impatiently, “I AM Tom Riddle, the diary is a horcrux you fool. Another piece of my soul that you allowed to blindly lead you into a death trap.” He practically spat at Harry, who was beginning to feel a whole new wave of horror sweep over him and settle in his gut. Well that explained why Riddle had felt eerily familiar. Harry blamed his fatigue on what he blurted out amusedly next.

“You’re name’s Tom?” His head fell to the side tiredly, a grin spreading over his face. He felt fingers grip his chin painfully and wrench his head back to facing Voldemort, or Tom Riddle as he now knew him to be. Whoever he was, he looked very angry. Harrys head was feeling worse, he thought.

“Harry, WHY were you at the shack?” He asked with a sort of violent patience and Harry decided it was best to answer.

“I…there was this…diary,” Voldemorts eyes closed in frustration. “Riddle-he told me there was something there.” He managed to stagger out of his mouth.

“What did he tell you was there?” Voldemort asked.

“Something that could help me…help me get away,” Harry replied, his eyelids drooping slightly.

“Why would you trust-why would you even believe-what?” Voldemort seemed astounded at Harrys stupidity and trusting nature. So astounded that Harry began to chuckle slightly, and Voldemort finally let go of him. “Harry,” He says again sounding impatient. “Why-?” but Harrys head had slipped to the side and blood was dribbling out of the corner of his mouth and he could hear someone calling his name, but Harrys body was having some kind of a seizure and he couldn’t recall a time he wasn’t in pain.

Harrys life returned to what it was like before that brief respite. He woke sometimes, to breathtaking agony and bleeding coming from the cuts on his body. More potions were forced down his throat. He could hear Nagini, Voldemort, Snape. Tender hands dabbed his face with a cloth and there was a woman. His mother? She was screaming, but no, there were no women screaming, that was just inside his head.

One of the many times he woke screaming, Harry saw Voldemort dart up from the chair by his bed but Harry couldn’t breathe anymore, there was a band tightening around his chest, around his head, squeezing tighter, tighter. Harry felt like he was going to die, he would welcome death and then, mercifully, Voldemort pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry. “Please!” Harry managed to gasp out, staring into Voldemorts eyes, whose face looked tired and dishevelled and his eyes squinted in confusion and a flash of fear before words were muttered, a flash of light and Harrys world went dark.

The meeting was coming to an end soon, and then he would be leaving with his Death Eaters for the attack. Voldemort found, however, that he couldn’t focus on the very real task in front of him. Not when his mind was wandering to the boy asleep back at the house. Nagini by his side. It was only Lucius talking, so Voldemort allowed himself to slip into her mind, as he did so often nowadays, to check on the boy who hadn’t moved an inch and whose condition hadn’t changed since the last time he checked on him. Still alive, still breathing, still, so still.

He’d been gone from the house for almost a week after he left Harry that last morning. Upon returning he found the boy gone, only a trunk of books and clothes remained. The boy wasn’t outside, but…surely he hadn’t left. The brat wouldn’t dare leave, knowing what Lord Voldemort would do if he had. He’d torn the boys room apart and finally came across the diary. Intense shock and confusion stumped him for a moment. How had his old diary gotten into the house?

Harry must have written in it. Which meant he spoke to his younger self and... he could have lead the boy to…no, surely he wouldn’t have…Voldemort apparated to the lane, and upon disarming the initial curses and barriers and hacking down the hedge he found a small body lying in the middle of the clearing. Battered, bruised and drenched in blood and cuts and dark magic which wept from his wounds.

Voldemort had returned him to the house and called for Severus to come and aid him. He was loathe to admit, but this was perhaps the first time Lord Voldemort had been frightened for a life besides his own. But no, that wasn’t really the case was it. The life WAS his own, his horcrux, his immortality. Not the boy.

He tried numerous spells to attempt to alleviate the curse and when Severus arrived sent him away to brew potions to his exact specifications. But Voldemort hadn’t created these curses with the intention of ever being broken. Except with the slow, excruciating death of whoever dared try to take his horcrux. A satisfying idea at the time, but now one he was becoming increasingly frustrated with.

Harry woke many times in agony, the wounds reopening, unable to be fully healed, choking on his own blood as the curse worked its damage. It was constricting his chest and Voldemort only barely able to stop it from attacking and killing the boys brain and poisoning his blood. The stupid boy who, honestly, deserved to die at this point. But the horcrux needed a host or it too would die.

Once Severus returned with more potions the following night Harry began to improve somewhat. They refuelled his body and worked to delay some of the effects. This was not a curse designed to be cured. Only once had the boy properly awoken, he’d thankfully been peaceful and Voldemort found all his anger lying in wait. One horcrux trying to kill another, ironically the horcrux in the diary had not realised that it was another part of himself that he had almost destroyed.

Voldemort had hoped Harry waking had been a sign of his recovery, but he had returned to his previous state and more potions were poured down his throat. Voldemort had eyed up the diary, and decided it was time to have a word with Tom Riddle for the first time in almost 50 years. Voldemort took the diary into the living room and summoned forth the soul fragment. A pale, ghostly image of his teenage self fell out onto the floor before quickly standing.

“Lord Voldemort, what an unexpected pleasure,” the arrogant boy said, smirking.

“Tom," Voldemort greeted, delighting in the slight sneer the other sent his way. "I’m sure you know why I’m here,” Voldemort said smoothly.

“Did your little pet die?” His younger self asked innocently, tilting his head to the side. “I did warn him that he ought to take me with him to prevent any trouble,” he added, looking admirably contrite.

“What have you been telling him?”

“Why, what Harry and I discuss is between us. Surely you wouldn’t ask me to betray his confidence?” Tom replied.

“I don’t think Harry feels quite the same about this budding little friendship as you. Why did you send him to the shack?” Voldemort asked, feeling tired and quite ready to send the apparition before him back into the diary. Toms demeanour changed then, a cruel smirk taking over his face.

“So he lived…quite honestly I thought it would be entertaining. I knew he wouldn’t take me with him, but knowing how you had kept him alive I thought he must be important to you. I would imagine its taken a great deal of effort on your part to keep him alive, remembering how carefully we crafted those curses…tell me, why DO you keep the boy alive? Harry simply wouldn’t share.” His younger self inquired.

Voldemort sighed deeply, he was infuriating. But no matter how his diary soul fragment wished to escape and take control, no matter how he loathed his older self, he was just as attached to his horcruxes as Voldemort was.

“Harry? He didn’t tell you? He must have not taken a liking to you Tom. It’s such a shame the two of you couldn’t play nicely together, you had much more in common than either of you realised.” Voldemort chided. Tom looked at him suspiciously. “Harry, you see, is a horcrux”. Voldemort smiled, satisfied at the way Toms face had dropped into shock. Then he sneered, “Your rashness has often been your downfall, Tom. But do not be so concerned,” Voldemort said shifting his tone to a deceitfully kind one. “I shall see to it that you won’t find yourself bothered by anyone again for a long time,” And with that he sent Tom back into the diary, who after a brief flash of fear managed to let out an enraged scream before the diary sat silently once more.

He knew his younger self wouldn’t dare destroy the other horcruxes if he ever got loose, but he couldn't be sure about him with Harry. Voldemort locked it safely away in his room along with the ring until he could find a better place for the diary, and until he could repair the wards and curses he’d destroyed at the shack. He was uncomfortable having so many pieces of his soul in one place, but at least for now he could be sure they were safe. Hopefully, the diary wouldn’t be further trouble in the future.

While Severus returned frequently with potions, they were both needed elsewhere, and loathe as he was to trust Harry in anyone elses care, he arranged for Narcissa to sit with the boy in his absence. In any spare moment he returned to the house, and it was one night almost two weeks after the curse had taken hold that the boy woke again, unable to breathe.

Voldemort could see the boys mind and upon seeing the welcome of death, in a moment of fear, he decided to place him into a deep sleep. One he could not wake from until Voldemort allowed it. With more spellwork and potions, the curse was stabilised and lay dormant while the boy lay resting. It had been a further two weeks since then, and the boy still slept until he could be cured.

“My Lord?” Voldemort opened his eyes, removing himself from Naginis mind and returning to the task at hand, his Death Eaters were stood waiting for him. Lucius to his left looked at him hesitantly.

“Let us depart,” he replied. As he rose they all began to filter out and walk along the long driveway to the gates before disappearing in pops in the crisp night air. Severus was working on a longer term solution. He had allowed Severus to ‘accidentally’ allow the old fool, Dumbledore, to be informed of Harrys plight. They were now both working to help remove the curse.

His old headmaster unaware that by saving the boy he was only helping to secure Lord Voldemorts invulnerability. He had surprised himself by agreeing to the plan when Severus had suggested it, he didn’t know why he was going to all this bother. What did it matter if one sliver of his soul passed, he had many others. But…well…. Voldemort quickly stepped past the gates of the Malfoy Manor and disappeared with a pop, leaving behind all such thoughts unanswered.

Severus Snape stalked up the winding staircase towards the headmasters office, rolls of parchment trailed along behind him floating in the air alongside a number of potions and assorted obscure ingredients. Severus was in over his head, and it was maddening. He was a master apothecary. An expert brewer of the dark and deadly concoctions that could spin the mind into madness, threading existence thin with delusions and despair.

He could cause unimaginable pain and excruciatingly sweet death, he was studious of curses and bewitchments, a dabbler of the dark arts and all that entailed pain and suffering. But here he was out of his depth, with a curse that the Dark Lord himself had designed to be uncureable and a wielder of immense pain, suffering and eventual death.

He had grudgingly thought to involve Albus when he realised how he would fail without him. Severus had no details as to what happened or how, precisely, the boy had come to have this curse upon him, but for now he was in a deep sleep and that gave them some time. The boys disappearance had devastated the Headmaster. The search for Harry had been intense, Albus had reached out to old Order members to help look but they despaired to ever find the boy alive.

When the house elf had showed up looking for the Headmaster, Albus had left immediately only to realise that if Harry had been there, then it was too late to help him upon finding no trace of Potter in the forest. The elf had been called away and then the same night there had been reports of the Knight bus being attacked. No one quite knew what to make of it as the passengers memories of the night had been wiped but nothing had been taken. It was a theory of Albus' that it was somehow connected to Harry, but Severus thought otherwise. They finally had confirmation that Harry was alive after the Dark Lord decided to reveal the boy to Severus at a meeting.

Albus had immediately set to work on helping find a cure, despite his and Severus’ bewilderment as to why Harry Potter was still alive in the first place, and why the Dark Lord had actually set out to SAVE the boy. Severus approached the Headmasters door and opened it after a brief knock, knowing Albus was alone and waiting for him.

“Severus,” Albus said tiredly but with a smile as he looked up from the penseive sat in front of him. Snape could see a hazy image displayed, but it wasn’t clear enough for him to tell what the memory was showing.

“Albus,” Severus greeted as he brusquely walked to the table and with a flick of his wand settled everything onto it.

“You have brought everything I asked for,” the Headmaster said tiredly. He reached out and began looking through the scrolls and ingredients while Severus sat in the chair opposite. He leaned into the back of the chair with his legs crossed and observed the man across from him as he made his way through the contents. His eyes dipped back to the penseive, once again trying to discern the image. “Ah, one of a few curious memories I have recently acquired” Albus said, having noticed Severus’ attentions. He looked more serious now.

“What…is it meant to be?” Severus asked frowning.

“It is a memory from the evening the Knight Bus was attacked. The passengers all had their memories of the night altered and almost removed. I have managed to piece together some fragments,” Dumbledore gestured and with a flick of his wand he sent the dish towards Severus who looked more closely at the image.

He could now see the vague resemblance of the inside of the bus, and a dark shadow at the front. The memory showed something writhing at the foot of the figure, and then something was crawling out from under, presumably, one of the beds. They stood up between the figure and the rest of the passengers and after a short moment they left the bus together.

“Potter?” Severus asked and Albus gave a small sad smile. “I had heard from Lucius of the escape attempt, and from you of the elf. I am surprised the Dark Lord left the passengers alive.” Severus remarked, returning the penseive to the table while Albus returned to looking through the scrolls.

“I suspect Harry had something to do with that,” Albus mused, looking into the distance thoughtfully.

“The Dark Lord would know it best to leave no witnesses alive. Your collection of scraps of memory show how unpredictable the use of mind arts and the elimination of memory can be. He would not have been swayed to leave the other passengers alive.” Severus said disapproving of this line of thought.

“And yet he was, and he did.” Albus said, a spark of intensity flooding his eyes. Albus returned his attentions to the scrolls. Severus thought on this. He mused, as he often did, as Albus and countless others often did, as to why the Dark Lord would be keeping the boy alive. Why hadn’t he killed the passengers on the Knight bus? Albus flicked his eyes up to look at the Potions Master. “How is Harry, Severus?”.

“Unchanged. He is still sleeping, the snake seems to stay close to watch him.” Severus replied. Whenever he had visited the boy Nagini had been watching and he had to suffer her hissing and bared fangs whenever he made a sudden move.

“And what of Voldemort? His plans for Harry?” Albus asked, looking down again, clearly his thoughts having mirrored Severus’ own. Severus sighed, there was not much change with anything, but it didn’t stop Albus asking him every time.

“What he intends to do with the boy, he has not revealed to any of us, as far as I am aware. But as to the Dark Lord, he has been much more distracted recently, his mind wanders and he appears tired, dishevelled. It seems Harrys condition disturbs him perhaps as much as it does you.” Severus said with a raised brow. Albus looked up with interest at that.

“Does it? Perhaps Lord Voldemort has taken on a role of caregiver for Harry,” Albus said with an air of amusement. Severus paused. Albus was making a joke, and yet…

“I would barely hesitate to say it is not TOO great a stretch of the imagination. There are many who are beginning to wonder the very same thing. Many believe he must be trying to turn the boy against you, raise him to join the ranks of the Death Eaters.” Severus reported.

“I see,” Albus muttered grimly. “Yes, Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the Dark Lords most loyal Death Eater. I can see why he would like that…alas, I am not convinced of it.”

“And why not? It is the most likely reason, otherwise why hasn’t he killed the boy yet?” Severus sneered.

“Why indeed, choosing to save Harry instead, choosing to enlist my help rather than let him die. That is not behaviour normal to him. Lord Voldemort is worried, he is afraid and the fact it is a life other than his own makes that quite extraordinary. We can only hope that this newfound care of Harry will continue until we can return him to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said as he looked up at Severus before returning to the papers.

Severus noted that Albus looked hopeful for the first time in a long time as he returned to his work. Hopeful and yet simultaneously his brows and eyes seemed to be creased with worry and fear.

Nagini lay curled up alongside the boy, her body languishing in the Autumn sun and the heat coming from the boys body. She had been assigned to watch him, to stay by his side so her Master could check in on him from time to time. Not that Nagini would be elsewhere anyway, she wished to watch over him, and bite the slimy man he despised should he prove false and wish to harm Harry.

It was a good thing she didn’t wish to eat him any longer, for she hadn’t been able to hunt for a long time and a small child would fill her up nicely. The extra soul inside of him, the one shared with her and her Master, might cause her some indigestion however. Best to wait for something tastier, and more…alive than Harry currently was.

She looked up as her Master stalked into the room, he looked tired and settled in the chair by the bed after giving her a greeting. She had found herself wondering often why he cared so much for this particular sliver of soul. Perhaps losing even a tiny part of your soul would be a concern, she could not say, she had never split hers.

She did suspect there was more than horcrux business concerning her Master when it came to the boy, but these were matters she kept to herself. He had brought an old mouldy book on curses with him and was currently scanning each page and flicking through, wafting mouldy smells her way. She retracted her tongue. He froze, staring at a section in the book, before he looked up, his eyes wide finding hers.

“I…can’t believe…surely not,” He muttered urgently under his breath before standing abruptly and leaving the room, a cold blast of air hitting her as he closed the door behind him. Nagini flicked her tongue out in annoyance before settling back down again, only to immediately have her sleep disturbed once again as her Master burst back into the room and went to the other side of the bed. As she moved up onto the boys knees to get a better look, Master lifted the boys head and poured one potion after the other down his throat.

“What is it? What have you found?” Nagini asked, but she was ignored as her master stepped back and watched the boy, his arms crossed and a frown on his face. “What will happen?” She asked once again.

“Nothing, we just need to wait a moment,” He replied. After a moment the Dark Lord stepped forward with his wand and removed one of the boys bandages before casting a healing charm. The wound healed, and they held their breaths as they watched, for one moment, for another, for one more and…it remained healed. Nagini flicked her tongue out and was surprised to see her Master had a smile on his face and he let out a huff of air in pleasure.

At catching her eye however his expression turned into a frown and he set to healing the rest of the boys wounds. “It’s not a cure, I’ve partially removed the curse. We can heal him and it won’t kill him or attack his brain and lungs when he wakes, but he’ll have to be careful not to over exert himself until we can find a proper cure.” He said as he worked. “At least the horcrux is safe now,” He looked directly at her then and Nagini simply agreed before curling back up at the boys side. Of course, at least the horcrux was safe, she thought in amusement.