In Which a Dark Lord Rages
-September 26 1991-
Sirius still wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or having a nightmare. Having his godson returned to him was all he’d ever dreamed about, but having him returned as an Inferius… that was never a part of it. One hand was clenched tightly around a stalk of Forget-Me-Nots (the irony of the flower was not lost on him) and the other held Harry to his chest. He was sitting around the massive table in the kitchen that doubled as a meeting space for the Order, and everyone was silent.
They were all staring at Harry with a mixture of emotions, too many for Sirius to decipher. Everyone had grieved the loss of James and Lily, as they were all close friends, but none had grieved like Sirius and Remus did. And when Sirius had returned to the Order, his eyes empty and dried tear tracks still drying on his cheeks, they had all frozen. They’d been in the process of making a welcome party for little Harry when Sirius told them that Harry was gone.
To see Harry alive… sort of… it was a shock to everyone’s system.
Harry didn’t seem to understand that, though. He sat contently in Sirius’s lap, playing with the fingers holding his midsection protectively. He seemed incredibly happy for a toddler who died. Sirius’s grip tightened ever so slightly at the thought.
“Snape.” Sirius suddenly said, breaking the silence. The bat looked at him with a sneer, but Sirius persevered. “What do you know about him?”
Snape sighed. “Not much.” he answered, and Sirius scowled.
“My boy, I believe whatever information you have would be beneficial,” Dumbledore said, clearly sensing that Sirius was two seconds away from ripping his face off. “Please, my dear boy, share what you have.”
“What do you want to know?” Snape asked, looking at Sirius with barely concealed disgust.
“How did he get Harry?” Sirius asked. That was one of the questions that had been weighing on his mind since Harry was returned. That and… “How did he die?” he added as an afterthought.
Snape looked as though he sucked on a lemon. “I do not know how the Dark Lord got Harry, nor do I know why,” he said. He then paused. “As for how he died…”
“You know how he died?” Sirius demanded, his heart beginning to beat faster. Snape narrowed his eyes and nodded slightly. “Tell us!”
“There was… an incident.” Snape said slowly.
Sirius glared at him and bit out through gritted teeth, “What kind of incident?”
“Little One---”
“Harry.”
“Little One was being introduced to new recruits,” Snape said, ignoring Sirius’s hiss. “One of the recruits had a death wish and insulted him in front of the Dark Lord. He asked if Little One was aware that he was dead.”
“And?” Remus asked, leaning forward slightly. Snape sighed, and the answer clearly made him weary. It put Sirius on edge, seeing the old dungeon bat so uneasy. “What happened?”
“Little One informed the recruit, and the rest of the people in the room, that he did know,” Snape said, his dark eyes finding Harry’s form. He smiled softly at the child in Sirius’s lap, and it made Sirius clench his jaw and hold Harry tighter. “He explained that he… He was punished for doing magic and his Uncle strangled him to death.”
It was dead silent in the room as everyone’s horrified gazes switched between Snape and the oblivious Harry.
“You. Son. Of. A. Bitch!” Sirius shouted suddenly, snapping his head to glare venomously at Dumbledore who sat stricken at the head of the table. Sirius felt Harry flinch in his hold, and instantly he felt guilty for scaring the child.
Then he remembered that Harry was dead and his rage returned tenfold. He quickly handed Harry to Remus and stood, slamming his hands on the table.
“You swore he was safe!” he spat. “You said he was happy there! You bloody bastard! How could you?! Did you even check on him?!”
Dumbledore’s eyes had lost the twinkle, and he was staring at Harry with sad eyes instead. His posture was defeated as he slouched into his chair. “Sirius I swear I had no idea…”
“Did you even visit him once?” Sirius demanded.
“I did not.” Dumbledore said, his eyes falling to the floor in shame. Sirius growled, his hands clenching in rage. “I’m so sorry, my boy. So, so sorry.”
“You… You…” Sirius was so angry he couldn’t even verbalize it. He sputtered, his rage overtaking him as he stood there. He suddenly whipped out his wand, pointing it at the old man sitting across from him.
“Sirius, no!” Remus cried, grabbing his arm and pulling it down.
“He’s the reason! It’s his fault that Harry’s dead!” Sirius shouted. “I’m gonna kill him! How could you?! We trusted you!!”
“Sirius, you need to calm down.” Remus said firmly. Sirius turned to look at his lover incredulously, only to stop at the sight of him. Harry was held in his arms like a baby, his head resting on his shoulder as he played absentmindedly with Remus’s hair. It would be adorable if it weren’t for the fact that Remus was having trouble controlling his wolf. His eyes flashed from brown to gold over and over as Remus struggled to calm down.
“Remus he…”
“I know,” he said firmly. “I know. But listen to me, cursing Dumbledore will solve nothing. Do you understand? We need to go about this level-headed. So calm down and get a hold of yourself, Sirius Black.”
Sirius nodded, and he slowly lowered his arm, and regretfully pocketed his wand. Suddenly all of his rage left him, and Sirius collapsed into his chair with an age-old weariness. Grief filled his veins as he looked at Harry once more.
His precious godson was abused and murdered. His Harry. He slouched in his chair as the emotions overtook him. He made a small gesture and Remus wordlessly handed Harry back to him, and Sirius buried his face in Harry’s curls.
It was silent once more as everyone in the room attempted to process what they’d just learned. The only noise came from Remus’s growls as he gained control of his wolf once more. A few minutes passed before Sirius felt like he had enough control to face everyone again.
When he looked up, he was greeted with the sight of a melancholy Order and a guilty Dumbledore. Sirius sucked in a deep breath before he turned to look at Snape.
“How did you not recognize him?” he asked. Snape looked up at being addressed and sneered at him.
“I never saw Harry Potter while he was alive,” he responded. “Other than his eyes, I saw no likeness to your friends.”
“He looks just like James,” Sirius argued. “I mean, look at his hair!”
“Little One is not James Potter.” Snape snapped. Sirius hissed at him but was stopped when Snape bent over in pain.
“What’s happening?” Remus asked, looking at Snape in concern and confusion. Snape hissed.
“He’s found out Little One is gone!” Snape cried out, gasping through the agony. “He is calling me!”
Dumbledore stood, his previously heavy eyes were hard with determination. “Go to him, Severus,” he said. “Do what you need to and then return. We are going to do everything we can to save Harry Potter.”
Sirius nodded gratefully, and his eyes fell down to the child he held. He felt love rush through him at the sight of the toddler playing with his long hair. Sirius had lost him once.
He wouldn’t lose him again.
Voldemort had finally finished the last of his paperwork. It had taken longer than he thought it would, and he was eager to go to the library and get Little One. He had no doubt that the child was still sleeping, but the last thing Voldemort wanted was for his precious to sleep on a transfigured bed.
Voldemort stood and gracefully walked down the hall to the library. He entered and paused when he saw that it was empty. Voldemort knew that Nagini had left to hunt, as she didn’t like leaving Little One when he was awake, so it was a little strange for Little One to not be there. However, it wouldn’t be the first time that Little One had woken up and wandered off to his own room.
Voldemort quickly ascended the stairs that led to his personal wing and opened the wooden door that led to his child’s room. He frowned, his crimson eyes shining with confusion when he saw that Little One wasn’t there either. He quickly walked into his own room, expecting to find the Inferius snuggled up on his bed, only to face empty sheets.
At this point, panic set it. Voldemort quickly called for Nagini, his heart beat rising ever so slightly. He did not like not knowing where his child was.
“Master?” Nagini asked, slithering into the room.
“Where is Little One?” he hissed. Nagini seemed to be confused.
“He is asleep in the book room, Master.” she replied. Voldemort snarled, his magic flaring out in a rage and knocking over several books in his room. They landed on the floor with a loud thud.
“He is missing,” he hissed out. “Find him.”
Nagini hissed and slithered away as quickly as she could. Voldemort clenched his hands as he fought to regain control of himself. Little One wasn’t gone. This wasn’t the first time Little One wandered around the castle without his knowledge. There was no need to worry. Little One was safe and protected in the Castle.
Voldemort gracefully swept out of his room, walking into the common room with dignity. His eyes swept over the room and he felt his nerves spike when he saw they were lacking a certain green-eyed Inferius. He then slammed the doors to the outdoor gardens open.
“Little One, come.” he spoke clearly. It was dead silent outside, and the sun had already set. His voice rang out clearly across the silent gardens. It didn’t make sense. Little One only went to a select few places in the Castle, and he wasn’t at any of them.
He stood patiently on the threshold of the door as he waited for his child to return to him. After five minutes, it was obvious that Little One wasn’t outside. Little One would’ve had no trouble hearing Voldemort, and he never ignored a summons.
Voldemort hissed and stalked back inside where he was greeted by his frantic familiar. “Master!” she cried. “Little One’s scent is gone! He is not in the Castle!”
This time, there was no controlling the destructive magic that sprang free from him. The common room was rendered a destroyed mess. The furniture was nothing rubble and even after all that, his magic still stalked and destroyed anything too close to him.
Little One was… gone?
How could this be possible? Little One couldn’t leave, and the wards would have alerted him if Little One wandered too close to the edge of his property. Besides that, Little One preferred to stay close to the Castle where Voldemort was. He was too shy to try and leave, he didn’t like leaving the safety of his home. So how…?
Voldemort’s eyes flashed with murderous rage and he hissed. “Someone took him!” he seethed, and he shot out more destructive magic. Sending the already destroyed common room up in flames did nothing to soothe his anger.
“Who dared to take what is mine?!” he snarled. He paced angrily, his hands coming to tug on his chestnut hair as he rambled. “I will kill them! Torture them until they beg for death! If they so much as touch a hair on his head so help me I’ll…”
Nagini coiled in on herself in order to avoid Voldemort’s rage-filled pacing. He walked with no purpose as he seethed. The feeling of anger was overwhelming, but even that was not enough to stop the feeling of helplessness from rising up inside his chest.
Little One was gone.
Someone had stolen his most precious from him directly under his nose! How dare they! And poor Little One! He must be so scared and confused without Voldemort there to protect him! Voldemort’s jaw clenched as an image of Little One’s eyes wide with tears and confusion flashed in his mind.
“My poor darling,” Voldemort cried, and the rage filled him once more. “I’m going to find you! I made you a promise and I won’t break it!”
And Voldemort meant it. That promise… all those years ago…
Back when Voldemort was too late. Back when Voldemort experienced true grief, true loss for the first time in his life. Back when Voldemort refused and he truly conquered death for the first time. Back when he held his most precious tight to his chest, the magic still fresh in the air as he brought him back. When he had spoke with determination.
“I will never let them hurt you,” Voldemort had said firmly, holding the newly created inferius close to his chest. His little one had snuggled closer into his chest and his hands clenched around his robes. “You’re going to be safe now. I promise.”
“Never gonna leave?” Harry---no. Little One, a new name for his brave and beautiful child, had asked, fear clouding his Avada green eyes. A stirring pang had hit deep inside his gut, and Voldemort uttered the promise that had dictated his life ever since.
“Never.” he had said. And he meant that with all of his cold, deadened heart. Nothing would take his Little One from him. And anyone who tried would promptly regret it for their short, agonizing life.
Yet here Voldemort stood, the wreckage of his once beautiful common room still smoldering around him, devoid of his most precious treasure.
He had broken his promise and Voldemort could do nothing but make a new one.
“I swear,” he hissed, looking at the sky. “That I will find you, Little One. I will not rest until you have been brought home.”
He looked down and magically fixed the common room, as if it were never destroyed in the first place. Nagini uncoiled herself, sensing that her Master’s destructive phase had passed, and slithered over to him. Voldemort’s crimson eyes flashed with determination and murderous glee.
“I will not rest until I make those that took you from me scream.”