Aftertaste
Warmth spread through Harry at a rapid pace. He panted through the initial shock of it all with his eyes clenched tightly closed. His hands nearly ripped his sheets as he struggled to breath through the feeling of Burke’s soul seemingly spreading throughout his entire body. It was too much and the knowledge that it was Burke made the whole experience agonizing. The bastard managed to get inside Harry after all. Harry gagged but did not think that the dementors had the ability to regurgitate a soul after consumption. At least, Asherath hadn’t shared that knowledge. Harry was left trying to control his breathing as the too-hot/too-full feeling settled in his body.
When he finally felt like he wouldn’t pass out, Harry relinquished his hold on his sheets and opened his eyes. Burke’s vacant stare greeted him. Instinctively, Harry lashed out and pushed the man away from him. Burke’s body toppled off the cot and on to the floor with a slight thump. The body landed facedown and the wand that had been loosely held in Burke’s hand rolled away. Harry vaguely registered the sound, but his eyes remained on the unmoving body. With Burke’s pants bunched around the knees, the legs remained in their bent position, which resulted in Burke’s arse lifted slightly in the air. It might have been a comical sight if Harry wasn’t so traumatized.
“How do you feel?” Asherath’s voice managed to penetrate through Harry’s panic.
“Hot,” Harry panted, “and full.” The latter was a similar feeling to having eaten too much. Every time Harry escaped the Dursleys and was presented with one of Mrs. Weasley’s excellent meals, he couldn’t help but gorge himself. With Mrs. Weasley’s instance that he eat plenty, Harry would inevitably eat too much. Despite having done this a few times, the opportunity to eat as much and whatever he wanted meant he was doing his best Dudley impression. He immediately spent the following few hours regretting his life choices as his body rebelled against his too-full belly. He would moan until he finally digested enough to be comfortable again. Apparently eating a soul gave him the same feeling, except he doubted his body could digest it. “Too much,” Harry cried.
“Expecto patronum!” a voice yelled. A second later a translucent wildcat chased Asherath away. A wounded noise escaped Harry as the dementor was forced away before Harry could ask how he could remove the unpleasant feelings. He didn’t feel any better when it was Wiblin that quickly approached his cell.
The man stopped at the open door and took in the occupants of the cell with a look of shocked horror. He slowly made his way into the cell.
“Potter are you-” Wiblin froze midway to Harry when the boy flinched back from him. Wiblin had been too close to Burke for Harry to trust him. It belatedly occurred to Harry that he was still naked from the waist down. He pulled his sheets around him since he didn’t know where Burke had tossed his clothes. Wiblin gulped as he glanced at Harry’s covered lap before focusing on his fallen co-worker.
“It’s ok,” Wiblin said, which caused Harry to let out a harsh laugh. Wiblin paused briefly before trying again. He spoke softly as if he was trying to calm a wild beast. “I’m just going to see if he-” the man couldn’t finish his sentence as he looked at the body once more. Moving with obvious trepidation, Wiblin moved towards Burke while trying not to get too close to Harry. He searched for a pulse and closed his eyes when he felt it. Standing up quickly, Wiblin didn’t acknowledge Harry’s second flinch as he quickly strode back out of the cell and towards where his patronus was still guarding the hallway.
“Initiate roundup. Burke kissed. Potter... attacked,” the man said and his patronus ran off to deliver the message to his fellow guards.
From the hallway Wiblin kept looking into the cell. Various curses left him, and his eyes kept sliding from Harry to Burke and back again. Harry still wasn’t wearing his glasses so Wiblin’s features were blurry. Just having the man nearby was doing nothing to calm Harry’s racing heart and laboured breathing.
The now familiar sound of the door opening at the end of the hall eventually broke the near silence of the prison. Hurried footsteps of two men quickly made their way to Wiblin.
“What hap – sweet Morgana!” one guard exclaimed as he looked into Harry’s cell. The light from the lumos he’d cast illuminated the awful scene. The man’s eyes were focused on Burke’s bare arse.
“Did he – was Burke – fuck –” the other guard stuttered.
“Surely even Burke wouldn’t have...” the first newly arrived guard trailed off as he focused on Harry. The sheet was clenched in Harry’s hands over his lap. While the guards could tell he still had his shirt on, the bare leg not covered by the sheet spoke of the dark truth. The guards didn’t have to look far to spot a pair of Azkaban standard issue pants and trousers crumpled at the foot of the bed.
“Say it,” hissed Mulciber’s voice, sounding more enraged than Harry could remember. “You knew the bastard. You honestly can’t say you didn’t know he planned to rape Potter.”
Harry flinched at that word, not just bodily but magically as well. An unseen force pushed out from his chest and when it reached Burke, it toppled the body on to its side. Burke’s arse was now facing the guards, but his vacant gaze was pointed towards Harry more clearly than ever. Fortunately, the man’s crotch was still somewhat facing downward. Harry hated seeing what was left of the man, but he did take his first deep breath since taking Burke’s soul. He clung to the knowledge that Burke couldn’t hurt him anymore.
The guards were all riveted on Burke’s unresponsive body. Fortunately for Harry, they assumed gravity was the cause of Burke falling over. Harry’s accidental magic had either not reached them or was mild enough to overlook while coming to terms with this crisis.
“We didn’t,” one guard denied.
“Shut up, Mulciber. We need to think,” said Wiblin harshly.
“We have to call the ministry,” the third guard said. “We can’t hide this.”
The sound of the hallway door opening again interrupted whatever Wiblin was going to say in response. Heavy footfalls moved towards the little gathering. Harry wasn’t surprised to see it was yet another guard.
“What the fuck happened?” the man asked. The other guards shifted uncomfortably before turning one by one to look at Harry. In response, Harry’s breathing once again grew laboured. Wiblin, the man closest to the door, stepped forward.
“Don’t,” Harry warned. He clutched his sheets at the uncomfortable feeling of having four guards watch him. Despite his growing panic, Harry felt his magic responding. It lingered just under his skin, waiting for Harry to let it loose. It brought Harry some comfort to know he could defend himself again if need be. Perhaps this time without eating any more souls. He couldn’t imagine trying to take another one with Burke taking up so much space already. He was reasonably certain that even the dementors only ate one soul at a time.
“We need to know what happened,” said Wiblin, though he wisely did not move any closer. Harry really didn’t know what to say. The ministry had locked him away for casting crucio for one whole second. He didn’t want to know what their punishment would be for stealing someone’s soul.
“I’ll tell you,” Lucius suddenly interjected. Harry was surprised at how much it hurt his heart to think that Lucius was about to sign his death warrant.
“Go on,” the last guard urged impatiently.
“I awoke to the sounds of a struggle. When I sat up, I saw Burke attempting to- well, we’ve already established the vile act that bastard intended,” Lucius said judgmentally.
“Intended? Did he not...”
“Potter fought him off initially. It seemed... I thought Harry would not be able hold him off any longer, but then the dementor arrived,” Lucius briefly paused, and Harry tensed waiting for the truth to come out. “The dementor might have assumed Burke was trying to escape with the boy,” Lucius suggested. Attempted escapes were usually the only time the dementors could kiss someone without ministry approval.
Harry let out a relieved breath and several tears flowed. The guards that noticed assumed he was reliving the memory. In truth, Harry was touched that Lucius was trying to protect him despite what he’d just done.
“How the fuck were they supposed to escape if Potter was naked?” the last guard stated, pointing out the obvious flaw in Lucius’ story.
“Well you can hardly escape in an Azkaban uniform,” Lucius snipped back. “You could always ask the dementor to explain itself,” he suggested knowing that the guards could not speak to them like Harry could.
“Does it really matter why?” asked another guard. “Let’s just be thankful it didn’t kiss Potter as well. Scrimgeour would really have our asses.”
Harry was astonished by the fact that the guards were buying the story. They had no reason to assume differently since no wizard had taken a soul like a dementor could before. There was no reason for any of the guards to assume Harry was the culprit. And yet, his fear was insisting that it must be obvious. Harry was clearly not behaving normally. How could he when he felt Burke’s soul with every inch of his body? Harry found it hard to believe that there was no outward sign of his internal struggle.
“What are we going to do? There is no way we can cover this up,” said a guard. There was a short discussion amongst the guards about what their options were until one of them remembered where they were and who their audience was. “We should take this conversation to the main office,” he said.
“Right,” Wiblin nodded and once again stepped closer to Harry. Harry immediately repeated his harsh “don’t”, which fortunately made Wiblin pause.
“Potter, we need to remove the body,” Wiblin stumbled a little at the word ‘body’. The prisoners all realized he was probably the only one mourning the loss of Burke.
“Not you,” Harry said and cringed when he noted his voice kind of sounded like a dementor’s. There was a raspy, rattling quality to it.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Wiblin seemed offended that Harry assumed he would go to such an extreme. Harry let out a harsh sound that could only loosely be called a laugh. One of his hands unclenched from the sheets and covered the area where the tattoo Burke and Wiblin had force upon him was. It served to remind Wiblin that Harry had no reason to trust the man. The closer Wiblin tried to get, the more Harry became aware of his magic ready to rise to his defense. As much as Harry wanted to lash out at the man, he knew it wasn’t the smartest move. His inner Hermione was urging him to hold back on those impulses. So far it seemed like he was getting away with what he did to Burke, but if he cursed the guards then he’d be in trouble once again.
Fortunately for everyone, Wiblin did not press the issue. He stepped back into the hallway and allowed the other guards to enter the cell without him. Harry did not feel comfortable with them either so he backed up on his cot as much as he could. The movement reminded him that his lower half was naked under the sheet.
There was a short argument over which one of the men would be stuck pulling up Burke’s pants. When one guard reluctantly agreed to do it and turned Burke over, Burke’s cock was put on display for everyone to see. Harry had to look away. His eyes landed on Burke’s forgotten wand. That inner Hermione was urging him to leave it be, while his inner Ron suggested he ought to hide the wand before the guards noticed it. His magic still felt easily accessible, so he decided to chance it. Once his brain felt the danger had passed, it was likely he wouldn’t be able to purposely access his magic wandlessly. Having a wand would protect him in case one of the guards decided to finish what Burke started.
There weren’t many places to hide a wand in the barren cell. If he pushed it towards the toilet bowl, it would be further from the guards. Regrettably, Harry wasn’t sure if the shadows were deep enough to camouflage the wand. Summoning the wand to rest under his bed was risky, but it also was the closest hiding spot and time was of the essence. It seemed impossible to hide the wand quickly but stealthily. Harry urged his magic to gently pull the wand towards him at a reasonably slow pace. Luckily the wand moved soundlessly. In turn, Harry made more of an effort to regulate his own heavy breathing. Despite his efforts not to draw attention to himself, he was only able to move the wand a foot before one of the guards noticed the minute movement out of the corner of his eye. Harry held his breath as the man picked up the wand. Harry shakily let it out once he realized that the man didn’t even look at Harry with suspicion. The movement had been so slow that while it caught the guard’s attention, the man had not consciously realized it had been moving.
“Martin, bring Burke to... might as well be the office. Not like there is a good place to store him,” the last guard that arrived ordered once Burke’s clothes were back in order. The guard nodded and levitated the body out of the cell. Harry was happy to see them go.
“Luis, go find Dennis and make sure all the dementors are accounted for. Might as well give him an update about what happened here,” the other guard nodded and left. Harry was a little less happy to see him go if only because he was taking Burke’s wand with him.
“Potter,” the guard paused as he placed Harry’s trousers and pants on the bed. As much as Harry desperately wanted to be fully clothed, he didn’t dare let go of the sheet while the guards were still there. The man seemed equally uncomfortable. “Did Maxim... had he managed... shit, did Burke penetrate you?” the man eventually managed to ask.
“No, I-” Harry cringed and looked away from the guard in case his guilt was plainly written on his face. “No.”
“Alright, good,” the man seemed relieved and started backing away from Harry. “Alright...”
There was an awkward pause as both Wiblin and the remaining guard watched Harry from the door to his cell. Clearing his throat, the guard finally decided to close the cell. Harry jumped at the sound of the lock.
“Go back to your post for now,” the guard told Wiblin. “You’ll have to make a statement, but for now...” the man gave a tired sigh. After one last glance at Harry, the man walked away. Wiblin dutifully followed.
Harry didn’t know why he started trembling after the guards were gone. He felt like he should relax, but couldn’t because the feeling of Burke’s soul was still present. Without the distraction, that too-much feeling returned.
“Harry,” Lucius said cautiously. Harry looked in his direction even though his vision was blurred by tears and a lack of glasses. “Are you-” the man had wanted to ask if Harry was alright, but cut himself off as it was obvious that the boy wasn’t okay.
“Did that scumbag really not put his cock in you?” Mulciber asked angrily. He realized how harsh he sounded and tried to tone it down for Harry. “If he hurt you, er ripped you then we will demand those fucking guards heal you.”
“No, I’m ok. I mean, I stopped him before he could-” Harry realized that he had not stopped the man before he could inflict some damage, but he still felt like he should reassure Mulciber. “I’m not bleeding or anything.”
Harry paused as the truth of that sunk in. He wasn’t bleeding. In fact, aside from the overwhelming feeling of having an extra soul taking up residence in him, he felt fine. Harry brought his hand to where Burke had bit him, but when he pressed down, there was no pain. He also felt smooth skin when he ran his tongue along his lips.
“You stopped him?” Crabbe’s confused voice prevented Harry from wondering how he felt physically fine. Harry didn’t know what to say. The last thing he wanted was for these men to fear him or be disgusted by what he did.
“Did you really manage to remove Burke’s soul by yourself?” Lucius asked. His voice held no condemnation, which gave Harry enough hope to answer truthfully. He was pretty sure Lucius had had a clear view into his cell, but realized the man might not have wanted to watch him get raped and turned away at the most critical moment.
“Yes,” Harry said and got lost in the memory of how it felt. “It was easy. Too easy to just guide someone’s soul out,” Harry said as he remembered the rush he felt as he did it. The memory of coaxing Burke’s soul from his body was tied to an almost euphoric relief that he had stopped the man from hurting him. Harry wasn’t sure he would be able to convince himself that he ought to feel remorse. Harry was confident that if he had to do it again, he would still pull out Burke’s soul to stop him. The only downside was what came after. “I don’t think I should have eaten it though,” Harry admitted.
“Eaten?” questioned Mulciber before laughing. Harry flinched at the sound. He did that a lot lately.
“Shut up,” hissed Lucius. His eyes were on Harry.
“Are you having us on?” asked Crabbe. The man was very confused by the concept. Harry didn’t blame him. It should be impossible.
“No,” Lucius said for Harry. “As incredible as it sounds, Harry kissed Burke the way a dementor would.”
The other prisoners were quiet as they absorbed that information. Harry scrunched his sheets nervously as he waited for their verdict. He wanted to put the rest of his clothes on but was worried that if he moved the too-full feeling would overwhelm him again.
“How?” asked Lestrange. Harry thought he sounded more curious than condemning.
“Asherath showed me how,” Harry said. He thought back on the dementor's (in)actions and wondered if it had been another weird test of theirs. “I think he wanted me to do it. Maybe to see if a human could?”
“But why? They never seemed interested in us as more than a snack,” said Mulciber. Harry didn’t have an answer for him.
“Ugh, what is my life?” Harry moaned. A wave of self-pity engulfed him. “I really don’t think humans were built to hold an extra soul,” he whined. He didn’t know what to do, but it was clear that he couldn’t just let Burke’s soul take up space in his own body.
“How can we help?” asked Crabbe. Immense gratitude chased away his self-pity. He knew he should be troubled by why these men weren’t disturbed by the knowledge that Harry ate someone’s soul. It was as if it wasn’t a big deal aside from the novelty of the act. Harry knew he should be repulsed by what it said about them as people. He shouldn’t let their concern and acceptance ease any lingering guilt. Harry knew a good person would be horrified, and yet he could only muster up feelings of happiness that they were willing to help him and had no intentions of squealing to the guards.
“Anyone know soul magic?” asked Lucius.
“Not related to eating souls,” responded Mulciber. He sounded amused.
“I’m not really eating it though,” Harry did his best to explain based on the knowledge Asherath shared with him. “It’s sort of just sitting there. Dementors just automatically digest souls like we would a chicken. They don’t think about it any more than we would. Their bodies just do it. I don’t know how to make my body actually eat a soul.” Harry would rather not eat someone’s soul, but the too-full feeling was borderline unbearable.
“I’m not sure you’d want to try,” Lucius said. He elaborated when Harry looked confused, “not unless you were sure you wouldn’t also consume your own soul at the same time.” Harry had not thought of that possibility. He wondered if he’d end up an empty husk or if he’d end up as some dementor hybrid cursed to feed only on souls.
“But I can’t just leave it,” Harry said miserably, “it hurts.” It was more of an excessively uncomfortable feeling than true pain. All the same, Harry felt like it would drive him mental if he had to live like this forever.
The others tried to brainstorm options, but none had suggestions that were feasible and many were deemed too risky. Harry couldn’t vomit the soul. It was probably dangerous to try to coax the soul out as they couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t coax Harry’s soul instead/as well. The prisoners found themselves restricted as they couldn’t access their personal libraries and do some research. In the end, Harry resolved to ask Asherath if the guards let him return when they believed he was the one that ate their co-worker.
When Harry saw Lucius and Albert yawn for the umpteenth time, he suggested they call it a night. He selfishly wanted them to stay up and distract him from everything that had happened. Harry did not feel tired and couldn’t imagine how he’d fall asleep in the same spot Burke had attacked him in. However, these men had been generous enough with him. It was odd but Harry felt more guilty for keeping them up late than he did for eating Burke’s soul in the first place.
“I’ll be ok,” Harry insisted when both Lucius and Albert looked reluctant. To prove his point, Harry decided to finally put on his clothes. He didn’t want to move, especially if it would expose him again. To his surprise, he only had to look at his trousers while wishing to remain stationary, and they flew at him as if summoned. In shock, Harry let go of his sheets to grab the clothes as they hit him in the chest.
“That... was both wandless and silent casting,” Lucius observed in wonder.
“I didn’t mean to,” Harry looked down at the clothes in shock.
“Impressive,” muttered Lestrange. Harry was thinking of it as scary since it was unintentional.
“I think I might have unintentionally healed myself too,” Harry admitted. His cheek didn’t hurt where Burke had slapped him multiple times. His neck didn't feel sore even though Burke had strangled him. When Harry finally moved to put on his pants, he didn’t see any marks on his lower body even though Burke had gripped him hard enough to bruise.
“Can you heal Albert?” asked Crabbe. Harry felt guilty for not thinking of it immediately.
“I can try,” he said. Harry needed to see the man in order to properly heal him. Harry only had to think about summoning his glasses before they were sailing towards him. Harry’s quidditch reflexes helped him catch them before they could smack him in the face.
Harry stood on shaky legs and moved closer to the cell door. He still couldn’t see the man well enough to spot all of his injuries. Harry merely had to wish that Albert’s cell was better illuminated before a blindingly bright light filled the entire cell.
“Sorry, sorry,” Harry said as all nearby prisoners groaned at the brightness. He quickly dimmed the light to a more suitable level.
Harry started with the injuries on Albert’s face. Most of those were healed by the basic healing spells he’d learn in charms. It still baffled him that many of the guards had been unable to master these spells. There were a few deeper gashes, but a mental episkey healed those up.
“Wait,” Lucius said after a few moments. “Do you think you could cast some illusions to make it appear as if he is still injured?”
“Those would be hard to maintain under the circumstances,” Albert pointed out. Harry felt willing to try as it occurred to him that they would have a hard time explaining Albert’s sudden lack of injuries to the guards.
“If Harry can’t hold them and a guard remarks on your recovery, we can say that another guard healed you to avoid additional problems from the ministry. It should be believable given recent events,” Lucius proposed. “Though we shouldn’t draw attention to it if we don’t have to, thus the illusions.”
“If all else fails, Harry can cast simple confundus charm whenever a guard becomes suspicious,” suggested Lestrange.
Harry worked to cast an illusion over Albert’s face that matched his previous injuries. Crabbe helped him remember which injuries went where. As Harry healed the man's other injuries, he placed the illusion on right away to ensure it matched. By the time Harry was done healing everything, Albert was breathing much easier. Surprisingly, so was Harry. He still felt uncomfortable and gross overall, but casting so many spells had helped ease those sensations so they weren’t overwhelming.
“Thank you, Harry,” Albert said with sincerity. Harry nodded and slowly dimmed the light in Albert’s cell so everyone wouldn’t get another shock.
“You should create illusions for your own injuries,” suggested Lucius. Maintaining that many illusions on both of them would normally strain a wizard’s magic. For once, Harry though that might be a good thing if it helped lessen the negative feelings that having Burke’s soul in him caused.
Harry cast a low-level light spell in his own cell. He then transfigured a portion of his wall to be reflective so he could see the areas that required an illusion. Thanks to a childhood spent with Dudley, Harry knew exactly what he looked like with a black eye, so he gave himself the appearance of one now. The other injuries were harder because they required Harry to think back on his assault and remember exactly what Burke had done to him. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about. Ever.
Fighting back tears, Harry slowly made his way down his body leaving the appearance of hand shaped bruises and a few scratches. The deep bite mark looked particularly harsh. Harry didn’t know when he had healed himself, so he wasn’t sure if his illusions matched up to what the guards saw. He’d just hope that they hadn’t looked at him too closely.
“Extraordinary,” Lucius said as he admired Harry’s spell work. Harry shrugged in reply. Since the illusions were meant to mimic his assault, Harry wasn’t inclined to like them even if it boggled his mind that the magic flowed so easily from him.
“You should get some sleep,” suggested Albert. Harry didn’t think he could sleep, but nodded at Albert’s suggestion all the same. He knew they were tired, but got the impression that they would stay up with him if Harry refused to sleep. Harry extinguished the conjured light, returned his wall to its original state, and reluctantly made his was to bed. It was hard to lay down in the same spot Burke had pinned him to only an hour ago.
“Are you sure you’re ok?” asked Crabbe softly.
“I don’t know,” responded Harry. He was pretty sure the answer was no but didn’t want to talk about it.
“Wake us up if you need to,” offered Crabbe.
“OK,” said Harry even though he had no intention of doing so.
Harry laid still, stared at the ceiling, and desperately tried to think about anything but recent events. When he was reasonably sure that Albert and Lucius were asleep, he quietly got out of bed and sat in the middle of his cell. Silently he levitated a nearby pebble. Likely it was a chipped piece of Azkaban’s crumbling walls.
Harry felt minimally better when casting spells, so he decided to spend the rest of the night distracting himself in this manner. Slowly he added more and more pebbles until he had about a dozen hovering in front of him at eye-level. He set them to move around his head in a wide circle. When he grew bored of this, he alternated moving them up and down. It reminded him of a muggle merry-go-round.
Throughout the night, Harry added more and more stones. Eventually there weren’t any left in his cell, so he summoned a few from the hallway and Lucius and Albert’s cells. No matter how many he added, they all moved as effortlessly as the first one had. When the early morning light woke Lucius, he sat up to the sight of a veritable wall of rocks orbiting the boy.