Azluha
Azluha
Summary - Used and betrayed, Harry snaps and runs, finding freedom in the form of a yellow-eyed stranger. With no restrictions or conscience, Harry is free to rip apart the world that betrayed him. Salt won't save you from this betrayed weapon.
Pairing - Azazel/Harry (Will be Lucifer/Harry later... Much, much later.)
Warnings - SLASH. Dark!Harry, somewhat evil!Harry, explicit sex, abuse, blurred lines of good and evil, cursing, torture, one almighty mindfuck of a fic. Probably will be added to as the fic progresses.
Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural. The rights to those belong to JK Rowling and Eric Kripke respectively. I am not making any money from this. Nor, actually, from the random poetry I write for magazines. Which sucks even more. 'Cause that is original.
This is for youaredriving! Happy birthday, Chickie! Hope you have a brilliant day!
Chapter One
July 17th, 1995 - Grimmauld Place
Harry sighed in boredom as he wandered down the stairs from his room in what he had been told was the house of Sirius. He had been brought from the Dursley's three weeks early for reasons that no one had told him yet and none of his friends were staying here. Making him bored. Very bored. He glanced to the side to make sure that the portrait of Sirius' mother was still asleep, he had learnt his lesson on waking her up on his second day there, and then stepped into the front hall of the house. Wondering what he could do.
Harry frowned when he realised that there was another meeting of the Order, which was apparently a group of wizards fighting against Voldemort, going on in the kitchen and they hadn't remembered to place any silencing wards around the door this time. Glancing over at Mrs Black's portrait to make sure that she was still asleep, Harry snuck towards the door and pressed himself against it, hoping that Moody either wasn't in the room, or wasn't looking his way.
" - sure that is our only choice?" Harry frowned as he heard Arthur Weasley's voice and wondered what they were talking about.
"It is the only choice we have, Arthur. We must train him first though." Dumbledore's voice filtered through the door, though slightly harder to hear, making Harry think he was further away from the door. Harry wondered who they were talking about, and who was going to get training.
"I don't like it." Professor McGonagall stated firmly, and Harry wondered when she had gotten here, as she hadn't been here for the first meeting they had had almost four hours ago.
"We do not have a choice. A part of him is in that boy. He needs to do his job, and then he must die. Taking the last piece of soul with him." Harry's blood ran cold as he listened to his headmaster discussing killing someone and wondered who it was they were talking about.
"So you're just going to train Harry up, send him out to kill Voldemort, and then kill him once he has?" Harry felt himself pale as he heard Sirius, Sirius, discuss his possible death like he was discussing the weather. Harry let out an almost silent whimper and wrapped his arms around his stomach as he took a stumbling step backwards from the door.
Harry glanced to the side on a whim and noticed Mrs Black awake and watching him silently, Harry sent her a sad smile, feeling tears running down his cheeks and then glanced back at the door to the kitchen.
"You need to run, boy. Flee. Clearly you heard something you didn't like. Run before they can do whatever it is that has you looking like that." Mrs Black told him in a shockingly quiet and calm voice, making Harry turn back to face her.
"They - they want to kill me. They want to train me to kill Vol - Voldemort, and then kill me." Harry told her, voice slightly hoarse and wetting his lips as his stomach tried to revolt against him.
"Then run as far and as fast as you can from here before they can do that."
"Why - why do you care? You - you hate half-bloods like me." Harry pointed out, nibbling on his lip until he tasted blood and frowning as he contemplated Mrs Black's words.
"I don't like half-bloods. But I have nothing against you. And if I can do anything to upset or anger my traitorous son, then I will try everything I can. So, run. Get money from your vaults, and then leave the country. The goblins will help you leave." Mrs Black told him and Harry stared at her for a second and then nodded his head once.
"Fine. Fine. But - what about - what about my stuff?"
"Anything in there that you can't buy a new one of? Possessions can be replaced. Your life on the other hand? That can't." Mrs Black told him and Harry nodded his head in agreement and then glanced back at the kitchen.
"I don't think I would want anything in there anymore, anyway. I know you were only doing it for yourself, but thank you." Harry told her and then turned his back and made his way to the front door, wondering where he was going to go.
He had just made it to the door, when the kitchen door slammed open and the members in there came running out, someone casting a spell that ripped the door out of his hand and slammed it shut. Harry gasped and spun around to place his back at door and face the eight adults staring at him. He glanced over at Mrs Black and noticed that she was pretending to be asleep once again, and Harry darted his attention back to the group of hostile wizards in front of him.
"Harry, my boy..." Dumbledore said in a calm voice, talking a step nearer to him, and Harry swallowed a whimper and pressed himself further against the door behind him and groped blindly for the doorknob.
"Dum - Dumbledore! I - I was just going to - to go out! For er... coffee! For coffee. I noticed a coffee house at the end of the road! Would you like me to get something for anyone else?" Harry asked them, trying to keep the fear out of his voice and sound normal.
"My boy, we cannot allow you to leave the house. It isn't safe out there for you." Dumbledore told him, looking apologetic, thought Harry just looked at him blankly.
'It's not safe for me in here.' Harry thought and then tried to wrack his brains for a reason that he could use to get out of the house.
"I'm sorry, my boy. It's for the greater good." Dumbledore said, suddenly, and Harry's head shot up to look at him in confusion, and then paled when he saw the wands being pointed at him. Harry just managed to glance over at Mrs Black to see her watching them with a frown on her face, when someone whispered something and a red spell slammed into him, knocking him unconscious.
1st September, 1995. Grimmauld Place.
Harry glanced up when the door to his room opened, letting him hear the hustle and bustle as everyone in the house got ready to leave for King's Cross, everybody but him. The door closed, silencing the noises from outside and making Harry turn to look at Sirius with thinly veiled curiosity.
"Harry."
"Sirius. Why... Can I... Am I not going to Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked him, nervously nibbling on his lower lip and glancing up at Sirius with wide eyes, making Sirius sigh and then move from the door to sit on the chair by the bed.
"Harry, you know why we have to do this. You need to be trained and you won't be getting the right training you need to kill You Know Who if you go to Hogwarts." Sirius told him with a sigh and Harry gave Sirius a wounded look and then nodded his head.
"I understand. What will I be trained in? Why have I been stuck in here for two months?" Harry asked him, feeling a dark suspicion building inside of himself.
"We have needed to keep you away from people who might have wanted to hurt you. And you will be trained in blades and different offensive curses." Sirius informed him with a small smile, getting a smaller one from Harry, that Harry had had to force.
"Okay. And... will I get to eat today?"
"No, Harry. You need to learn to go without food for a few days at a time. You'll get something to eat tomorrow." Sirius informed him sadly and Harry nodded, biting his lip hard to stop himself from asking something that might upset Sirius.
"Okay. Thank you for coming to talk to me."
"No problems, Kiddo! I've got to go and see the others to Kings Cross now. Someone will come to discuss your training schedule with you later on tonight." Sirius told him with a bright smile, then stood up and left the room. Harry sat on his bed, absently playing with his duvet cover whilst he stared at the door with a frown on his face.
3rd November, 1995. Grimmauld Place.
Harry winced as the cut across his back, from when he didn't dodge a curse in time, pulled and opened again. He could feel the sluggish trickle of blood run down his back, and not for the first time, wished that Dumbledore had just killed him instead of deciding to train him to kill Voldemort first.
He had learnt that Voldemort had made several things called Horcruxes that were parts of Voldemort's split soul. And apparently he had one inside himself. Which made Harry shudder.
Harry had realised that he and Voldemort were connected via their minds about a month ago, when he had watched emotionlessly as Voldemort had tortured some poor Muggle woman. Harry couldn't even find the energy to care about the woman. He had lost the ability and energy to do much more than blink and dodge the curses thrown at him by mid September. He had learnt fairly quickly that no one was going to help him get out of this, and that the longer it took him to learn the spells they were teaching him, and how to use the weapons they wished for him to learn about, then the longer he would be trapped here being fed the bare minimum and tortured for asking anything. Or for not following orders. Didn't strike Harry as being very 'light'. Nor did it make him want to save anyone anymore. Just made him angrier. He clung to that anger, it was the only emotion he thought he could feel anymore.
Harry startled when he heard a pop in the room, and then hissed in pain as it caught the cuts on his back. He frowned when he saw a house elf looking back at him and was pretty sure he remembered seeing this house elf around the house before he had been locked away.
"Mistress is making plans. Mistress told me to come and inform you that plans are being made for your release." The elf, Kreacher? Harry thought that was its name, told him with a slight sneer.
"Mis - You mean Mrs Black? She's trying to get me out of here? How?"
"Kreacher cannot say right now. I will come back when it is time. Mistress says learn what you can and stay prepared."
"Mistress should have been a boy scout." Harry muttered as Kreacher popped out of the room, leaving Harry alone to wonder how a portrait was going to be of any help whatsoever.
16th March, 1996. Grimmauld Place.
Harry sneered at the utter naivety that Hermione's letter to him portrayed. 'It's for your own good' He was pretty sure that being trained to kill a man with decades more experience than him and then wait to be killed by the same people who trained him to off the afore mentioned man, didn't come under the title 'for your own good'.
'Learning new spells sounds so exciting.' Sure if you thought having spells flung at your head and then having to find the counter in dusty old books before it killed you was fun.
'I'm so happy that you are taking things so seriously.' Considering Harry hadn't ever actually sent her a letter, he was a little shocked that she knew, or thought she knew, he was taking things seriously. Not that he had much choice. He didn't particularly want to die, so he had to take things seriously and hope that Mrs Black and Kreacher could get him out in time.
'Ron, Ginny and I will be allowed to visit you when we finish for the year. Dumbledore has informed us that you will be staying in Grimmauld Place for a couple of days.'Yes, a couple of days for the rest of his seemingly very short life.
'Ginny is very excited about seeing you. I think she wishes to ask you something.' Harry had actually groaned when he read that, then thought it over and started to giggle hysterically. Clearly Ginny had not been informed about his expiration date. Or she was into necrophilia. Perhaps that was what she was going ask. Maybe she wishes to have her wicked (and decidedly disturbing) way with his dead body. Harry would let her have at it. Not like he was going to be needing it in Hell.
'We are all very eager to here about what you have been doing in Dumbledore's private cottage in Cornwall. Your description of it was beautiful.' His description of it? When had he ever been there? Or spoken to Hermione since leaving Kings Cross at the end of his fourth year? Clearly there was something strange going on. Harry couldn't wait to see the expressions on whoever would be supervising this visit when he was asked about the cottage.
'Please continue with your studies and perhaps we can trade spells we have learnt through the year with one another.' Harry snickered and considered telling Hermione about how he was being taught the best way to fall when having the Cruciatus thrown at him. Not that there really was a best way. Well, he had learnt the way to fall that would break the least, if any, limbs when he hit the ground. That could be seen as the best way, he supposed.
'Think of everyone you will save with all this training. Cedric will be proud.' That made Harry growl and crumple the parchment up in anger. If Cedric was proud, then Harry was glad Voldemort had killed him. Why would anyone be proud of someone who allowed themselves to be beaten, whipped, starved and belittled, and then wait for death to come to him. Harry would admit, if only to himself that he sort of wanted to die by this point. He was fed up of his life. He'd be even happier if he died before taking Voldemort out. Leave the wizards and witches of Britain to deal with it alone. Harry smirked at that thought, then sighed, knowing that wasn't how it was going to go. He wasn't that lucky.
23rd June, 1996. Grimmauld Place.
Harry jerked awake from the dream he had just had and glanced around his room as he waited for his heart to slow down. He had just had a vision of Sirius being tortured in a place with high shelves. Frowning, he rubbed his temples to try and stave off the headache he could feel building up behind his eyes and then sighed.
"What to do? What to do?" Harry muttered, getting up from his bed and walking over to where he had placed the dagger he had taken from his last training session and picked it up, playing with it in his hands.
"Kreacher?" Harry called out tentatively, wondering if the elf would actually come when Harry called for him. Harry had never actually tried before and so was somewhat surprised when the elf appeared in front of him with a small pop.
"Little Master called?" Kreacher asked in a quiet voice, as he bowed low in front of Harry.
"Is Sirius in the house?"
"No. Big Bad Master is not be being in the house." Kreacher told him, and Harry frowned and nibbled on his lip in indecision. "Is something wrong, Little Master?"
"Something? No, Kreacher. There's nothing wrong. Thank you for coming when I called."
"If yous be needing anything at all, just call for Kreacher."
"Thank you."
"Kreacher not being able to bring you food though. Kreacher is sorry." Kreacher told him, looking somewhat sad at that announcement, and Harry smiled softly and nodded.
"It's alright, Kreacher. I'm used to it anyway. Thank you. When... If... Should Sirius come back, can you and inform me?"
"Of course, Little Master. Kreacher be going now." Kreacher told him with another low bow, and then popped out of the room.
He wasn't sure if it was disappointment or disinterest that he felt when Kreacher popped back in the room five hours later to inform him of Sirius' return to the house.
31st July, 1996. Grimmauld Place.
Harry had been in the same room for just over a year now, and had been informed by a smirking Snape, that it was his sixteenth birthday today. And for his present, he was going to be put against three Aurors, with only a sword and a dagger. He got to choose which ones though. Because they were nice like that. Yeah. Nice.
Harry smirked though as he picked up his favourite dagger that he was allowed to keep in the room, and then wrinkled his nose and he chose a sword. If he was allowed to be honest, which he rarely was, then he didn't really like using swords. He preferred using knives and daggers. Being wizards, they hadn't taught him how to use guns, which Harry thought was a waste given that he doubted Voldemort would expect them to be used either. Not that he really wanted to kill Voldemort anymore anyways. The man had never done anything nearly as bad to him as the Order had. He was just going through the motions now so that they wouldn't forget to feed him again.
"Come, Potter. Quit stalling. We are going to see how much of the training you have put into practice, and how much we need to keep training you." Snape told him with a sneer. Harry managed to hold back the sneer he wanted to throw back at Snape, knowing that it would only cause him to be punished, and just stared that the man blankly, then grabbed a bastard sword and walked over to the man. "About time."
Snape growled under his breath as he led Harry out of his room and across the empty hallway into the room he was normally trained in. He entered and saw Moody waiting for him with a sadistic grin on his face, standing in front of two other men that Harry didn't recognise.
"Potter. This is Auror Dawlish and Auror Banks. They will be with me in this duel, and we will see how well you have been taking in the training. You are to try and disable us using the two weapons you have chosen. Do not aim to kill." Moody warned him and this time Harry couldn't hold back the sneer, as he knew that rule wouldn't apply to the three Aurors.
He was proven correct when he quickly had to dodge a killing curse as soon as the door closed behind Snape, and Harry cursed quietly as he dropped the sword when he dived to the side.
"Up, Potter! Stop dallying about!" Moody snapped out and Harry hissed something not very complimentary out at him in Parseltongue, making one of the Aurors, Dawlish Harry thought, pale and gape at him. Which Harry used to his advantage and threw his dagger at him, grinning when it stabbed through the man's wand hand.
Dawlish cried out in pain, dropping his wand and then turning his attention to pull the dagger out of his hand as painlessly as possible. Harry meanwhile had moved as soon as the dagger had left his hand and dodged another spell aimed at his head, grabbing the sword as he ran to the other side of the room, mentally trying to figure out how to get his dagger back.
Harry hissed out another curse when a spell managed to hit him, and made his left arm go numb. Harry wondered when it would wear off, or if it would at all without the counter curse, which he had never been taught.
It took a further thirty minutes of dodging curses, and trying to fight with only one arm, when he finally saw an opening and sliced the sword along the wand arm of the second Auror, Dawlish having left the room once he had gotten the dagger out and had flung it away from him. Harry was rather grateful that the man hadn't had the forethought to take the dagger out of the room with him. Moody would have done.
Harry kicked away the wand of Banks as soon as it dropped to the floor from Bank's numb arm and rolled towards Harry. Harry snickered mentally as he finally took that chance to drop the sword and grab the dagger instead, then turned and eyed up Moody, who, he realised, had just been standing back and watching him, whilst occasionally throwing a curse his way.
Harry decided to waste no time and darted forwards, dodging another curse sent his way and then had to dive out of the way of a Crucio sent towards him, grumbling as it actually meant he was further away from Moody once more. Banks had, by that time, managed to retrieve his wand once more, and didn't seem to get the rules of the game that you left once disarmed, because he sent a particularly nasty dark curse at Harry before he left the room.
Harry shook his arm out as he felt the curse slowly start to spread down it, making it feel like liquid ice was running through the veins in his arm, and knew that he had to finish this somehow, quickly before it made it so that he had no useable arms to use in the duel.
Moody clearly realised the predicament that Harry was in, as he grinned ferally and then began to throw curse after curse at Harry, making Harry have to keep dodging them and have no chance of getting anywhere near the ex-Auror.
Harry yelped in pain and then bit his lip as he failed to dodge a cruciatus curse and felt it travel over his body, making him drop to his knees, clenching his fist around his dagger. He sensed Moody coming nearer to him, but the pain was too much for him to do anything about it.
The curse was lifted after what felt like hours, but was probably only a couple of minutes at the most, and just as Harry took a deep breath, he felt something get slammed into the back of his head, and was knocked out cold.
Harry came around with a monster headache and groaned in pain, muscles aching and occasionally twitching from aftershocks of the cruciatus curse he had been held under, and then took stock of his room, noticing that Sirius and Dumbledore were waiting in the room, talking in low voices.
They both turned around and regarded him with veiled stares when Harry slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, noting that the dagger was still clenched in his hand and frowned, wondering why no one had taken it off of him.
"It shocked anyone who tried to take it. You've bonded to it." Sirius answered, making Harry wonder if he had voiced his question aloud. Harry then turned to stare at the two men emotionlessly, he no longer felt anything towards the two men but dark betrayal and furious anger.
"You failed the task we set for you, so you will be punished like usual. You will not be allowed to sleep for the next five days, and you will have to duel against someone from the Order every afternoon for an hour or until one of you wins the duel. Should you lose, then another day will be added to your withdrawal from sleep. Do you understand?" Dumbledore asked him in his stern but still grandfatherly voice, which contradicted the words being said.
"Yes." Harry said dully, noting absently that Sirius winced at his monotonous tone and wondering why Sirius was still feeling guilty, but also feeling a vicious sense of pleasure that he was.
"Good. Now, Sirius is here to talk to you about something. I shall leave you two alone for a while. Once Sirius has left, I expect you to continue training now that you are awake." Dumbledore told him with a kindly smile, making Harry have to hold back a mirthless laugh and the two wizards watched as Dumbledore left the room. Harry then turned to face Sirius with a raised eyebrow.
"Harry. Your parents entrusted me with your care should they die." Harry actually couldn't stop himself from snorting derisively then.
"Bang up job you are doing of that, Sirius." Harry told him in his usual monotonous voice and Sirius flinched as though physically struck.
"Yes. This is for the best Harry. You'll see."
"Will that be before or after you kill me?"
"Harry. Don't make this difficult. I am here to talk to you about your magic." Sirius told him with a sigh and Harry looked at him curiously.
"What about it? Found a way to take that from me as well? Not like you really let me use it, is it? So why not?"
"No, Harry. No one can take your magic away from you." Sirius told him and Harry felt a small feeling of relief inside at that news. "No, now that you are sixteen, your magic will be becoming more and more volatile as it gets you ready for the magical increase you will get on your seventeenth birthday. It is why you possibly bonded with that dagger." Sirius told him and Harry glanced away from Sirius and looked at the dagger he was still holding in his hand.
Harry ignored Sirius in favour of looking at the dagger, twirling it in his hand and noticing, in the corner of his eye, that Sirius was fidgeting nervously.
"Is that all you wished to talk to me about?" Harry asked him, placing the dagger down on his bed.
"No. When you were a baby, I bonded with you magically. It... it was to make you my heir if I didn't have any children of my own by the time you reached your magical maturity."
"So I'm your heir?" Harry asked him dully, and Sirius nodded slowly and then winced and ran a hand through his hair.
"Yeah... but..."
"But I'm going to die. So you don't want me as your heir anymore." Harry stated, still monotonously and Sirius actually gave a sigh of relief and smiled widely at Harry an nodded.
"Yes!"
"And?"
"And? What do you mean, and?"
"I mean, what do you want me to do about it?" Harry asked him blandly, withholding the sigh he wanted to let out.
"I need to you er... stand down."
"Stand down?"
"Yeah, I need you to er... say you don't want to be my heir anymore. Well... there's a ritual and stuff as well, but it has to start with you saying you don't want the title of Lord Black when I die. That way I can appoint a new heir." Sirius told him smoothly and Harry stared at him before he let a small smirk slowly cross his lips.
"No." Harry told him bluntly, and Sirius jerked and then gaped at him.
"Harry!"
"No. Why should I? No. Then you can live with the knowledge that you killed your heir. Your only heir. Magic will never forgive you of that, Sirius." Harry told him with a malicious glint in his eyes.
"Harry, you have to! What good will it do you to stay my heir?"
"I know the harm it will cause you. So I, Harry James Potter, accept the bloodlines of the Black's into my family." Harry told him, smirking when he saw Sirius gasp and clutch at his heart. "Is that everything? Father?"
"Harry..." Sirius whispered weakly, staring at Harry in horror. "Why?"
"You hurt me, I returned the favour. Just remember what I am when you drive the knife into my heart." Harry told him with a sweet smile and Sirius just stared at him and then shook his head. "You can go now. I have to train. Got to get ready to die and take you down to Hell with me."
28th August, 1996. Grimmauld Place.
Harry looked up from the book he had been ordered to read when there was a sharp knock on his door and then Dumbledore entered the room.
"Harry, my boy. How are you today?"
"Fine."
"Good! Good! I have some good news for you. Your friends are here for a visit. You are to inform them that you cannot talk about all the training you have been doing, nor about the location. Also hide your dagger. They mustn't know you have a bonded weapon." Dumbledore added when he noticed that Harry had been playing with said dagger as he listened to Dumbledore's orders.
"Of course." Harry told him, keeping anything he had to say to a bare minimum so that he didn't say anything that would cause Dumbledore to punish him again.
"Good! I'll send them in with Sirius then, shall I?" Dumbledore asked, and then left the room without waiting for a response from Harry. Not that he would have got one. He did, however, also miss the narrowed eyed look Harry sent at his back.
The door opened again a minute or so later, and Sirius walked in, followed by widely smiling Hermione, Ron and Ginny. If Harry was honest, he had no idea why Ginny was there. He barely spoke to the girl. Save a person once and they cling to you like flies stick to shit.
"Harry! You look so healthy!" Hermione gushed, making Harry frown in confusion as he was pretty sure he must look like shit, having not bothered to brush his hair for over three weeks, and not having had a proper meal for longer than even that.
"Er..."
"So, Harry mate. What kind of training have you been doing? Couldn't you have asked if me and Hermione could have joined you? We do always get into those messes with you." Ron pointed out and Harry narrowed his eyes at him and then sneered.
"Ask Dumbledore. Tell him you want the same training I am getting. You'll love it, I'm sure." Harry told him in a dull voice that made Ron falter in his response, and Hermione and Ginny to frown.
"He said that he would consider it next year. Before seventh year starts." Hermione informed him before Ron could say anything else that would make Harry's slowly waning control to finally snap.
"Good for you." Harry told them blankly, realising that that meant he would be dead by then. He glanced over at Sirius, and Sirius quickly shifted to avoid his stare, proving Harry's thoughts correct.
"You could sound a bit more excited for us. You sound right depressed, mate. You'd think you'd be grateful for all the training you're getting." Ron told him jealously, and Harry actually physically felt something inside him snap as he threw himself across the room at Ron, dagger in hand, not even registering the looks of horror on the faces of his friends.
Sirius jumped into action as soon as Harry's eyes flashed in anger, and had managed to grab Harry before he actually reached Ron to do some serious damage to the stupid boy.
"Harry!" Sirius yelled, and Harry sagged against the arms holding him back and stared emotionlessly at his horrified friends, noting absently that Ron was slowly getting more and more red. Until he exploded.
"What the hell, Harry? What is wrong with you? Dumbledore mentioned that you had become more and more unbalanced, but we didn't believe him! Now we do. His plans for you after the war are sounding more and more understandable." Ron spat, flinching back when Harry growled and began to struggle against Sirius once more to get to him.
Later, when he was still chained to the wall in his bare room, all furniture having been taken away as punishment, Harry realised that the dagger had appeared in his hand when he had lunged for Ron. Harry had hidden the dagger under his bed just before the others had entered the room after all. Harry frowned and looked at his hands, ignoring the manacles around his skeletal wrists and then smirked at this new piece of knowledge. If he was going down, the Order was going down with him.
1st January, 1997
Harry jumped and stared when Kreature appeared in the room before him, grinning widely at him, which Harry thought was very creepy on the maudlin little elf.
"Er... K-Kreacher? W-what a-are y-you doing here?" Harry asked, frowning and tilting his head at the elf in confusion.
"Mistress and the goblins have done it. Little Master can be free today. You's be taking this globe and it be taking you to the goblins." Kreacher told him, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Er... thank y-you, K-Kreacher. W-wait. I-I'm finally free? I... can get out o-of here?" Harry asked him, gaping at the excitable elf in front of him.
"Yes! Yous be taking everything that you need and be taking this globe. Then yous be free." Kreacher informed him, waving the small glass orb in front of him. "Be quick! The wizards be waking soon from their party."
"Party? W-what... w-wait, w-what day is i-it?" Harry asked him, as he grabbed his spare change of clothes and his dagger and then walked to stand in front of Kreacher.
"It be the first day of the year. Now, yous be free. Harry is to be the Lord Black this year. Call for Kreacher and Kreacher shall come." Kreacher told him and Harry nodded, then took the globe from him.
"Th-thank y-you for e-everything, Kreacher." Harry told him with a small smile, just as he felt the hook behind his navel drag him away from his prison.
1st January, 1997. Gringotts Bank
Harry dropped to the floor in the room the portkey had dropped him in and gripped the dagger tightly as he looked around the room and noticed a goblin sitting at the desk in the room, watching him equally as warily.
"Soon-to-be Lord Black. We received news that you would be needing our help, seeing as you will soon be one of our richest customers, we decided to help you." The goblin informed him, once Harry had stood up and loosened his grip on the dagger.
"Th-thank you." Harry said, cursing his stutter, which was apparently a side effect of being held under the cruciatus too long. Apparently, should anyone have ever actually kept their mind, then they too would have had a stutter.
"You are welcome. We have a portkey that will take you out fot he country. We have also falsified some documents that you might be asked for. Including false records of education, a passport, a card to your vaults and a false identity that will partially hide you from those searching for you. Mrs Black informed us that there would be people searching for you once we helped you get out of the country."
"Er... Ye-yes. Yes, they w-will be. A - A new name?" Harry asked him curiously, not entirely sure he wanted a new name.
"Yes, you will still be known as Harry Potter, but you will also be known as Harry Lon Dubh should anyone be searching for you. The name on your passport and visa will be Harry Lon Dubh."
"W-what kind of name i-is Lon?" Harry asked, not entirely sure he was taking in everything that was being said?
"It is an old name. Now then, Mr Potter. The portkey will take you to San Antonio, America. It should take the wizards a while to track you there, but you will need to leave here before they realise you have gone. Do you have everything you need?"
"Erm... I - I th-think so. Y-yes. Money?" Harry asked, glancing down at the spare pair of black jeans and a black shirt that he had draped over his arm and the dagger he was still gripping tightly in his hand.
"Ah, in this envelope, you will find everything you may need. Your bank cards, one to each family's main vault, and one to another vault, the documents you will need for those cards, your passport, your visa, it states that you are a hired private detective for Gringotts, which should they look up will see that we are a large business firm and bank. Tell them you check out customers that we think are scamming us. There is also a birth certificate in there should you need it." The goblin informed him, handing over a thick white envelope, which Harry took and stared at, and then looked back up at the goblin. "Should you need us, there is also a phone number you can ring up. We also have a branch in Washington DC and Los Angeles. Here is the portkey. You need to leave now. The password is this bank." The goblin told him and Harry numbly took the portkey, not completely aware of what was happening.
The goblin coughed when Harry had been sitting there, staring at nothing for a short while, making Harry jerk and glance up at him.
"S-sorry. Gringotts." Harry muttered, and for the second time that day, felt the tug behind his navel and then left England behind. Hopefully for good. The wizards could all burn for all he cared.
11th April, 1997. Chicago.
Harry glanced around him as he stepped off the bus that had brought him to yet another large, anonymous city, and where he would hopefully be able to hide from the wizards for at least long enough so he could sleep. Though he didn't believe it in the least. They had, so far, managed to find him in every city he had been in for the last three and a bit months. He had already lost two of his credit cards, both the ones for his family vault, and he didn't dare use the one that the goblins had given him. He had no idea where the money came from for it. So he was now running out of any money that he had managed to take out of the Black vaults before he had had to leave the card behind in the motel room he had run from.
He sighed and then trudged in the direction that he hoped a cheap motel was. Or at least an abandoned building he could hide out in for the night. Thankfully he still had his dagger and some clothes that he had in a rucksack he had bought on his first day in America, but that was about it. That, and three hundred dollars.
Harry noticed an old building that looked slightly dilapidated and hopefully very abandoned, and hurried his walking towards it. He grabbed a plank of wood barring the door and tugged at it until it broke away, cursing as he squeezed through the gap it left, and then fell on the other side. He then stayed kneeling on the floor and carefully picked out the splinters the wood had left in his hands, until he thought he had got them all out and then wiped the blood on his ratty t-shirt and pushed himself up off the ground.
He carefully made his way towards the back of the building, hoping that would buy him some time, should the wizards find him here again, and then threw his bag on the floor and lay down, lying his head on the bag and shutting his eyes in sleep for the first time in a week.
Harry jerked awake, wondering what had woken him and trying to calm his heart down, looking around the dark room, and glancing at the slithers of light from the moon shining through the slats of wood.
He jerked in shock when he heard it again. Someone was screaming in pain somewhere near the building he was hiding in. Harry pushed himself up off the floor and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulders. He figured he had managed to get a fair few hours of sleep and that he was pushing his luck if he stayed here for much longer. The nearer to his birthday it got, the more his magic spiked, alerting the wizards searching for him to where he was. Which sucked.
Harry kicked at the slats of wood blocking the doorway in the room he had slept in, ignoring the tortured screams coming from wherever they were coming from and then squeezed out of the building, and walked to the alleyway beside the building. The screams were louder out here and Harry nibbled his lip and then cursed himself as he made his way towards them.
They were coming from an old shed like building that looked even more dilapidated than the building he had slept in looked. Walking over to the one window he could see, Harry glanced inside and then frowned when he noticed an older man, who looked to be in his late forties, early fifties. The one doing the screaming was another, younger man, who looked to be in his thirties. Both men were bleeding, but the screaming man also looked burnt in places, and appeared to be standing in the middle of a circle made up of runes.
The older man began to chant something, which made the younger jerk and then begin to writhe as he yelled out in pain, before he laughed and spat on the floor. Harry raised an eyebrow at the man, and then, in a fit of insanity that Harry will question for the remainder of his life, he decided to do something to help. He picked up a heavy rock from the floor next to him and then entered the small shack, clenching his fingers around the cold stone in his hands. He crept up behind the man still chanting, noticing that the other man had noticed him, and, Harry noticed for the first time, had yellow eyes. The man stopped chanting when he noticed that the yellow-eyed man had stopped chuckling and narrowed his eyes at him.
"Something to say?" The man said with a strong southern accent, and Harry slowly lifted the rock above his head, locked eyes with the yellow-eyed man and then brought the rock down on the taller mans head, hard. The man stood no chance and crumpled to the floor unconscious, blood beginning to run from the cut on the back of his head.
Harry stared at the man and then at the rock in his hands, before he snarled and brought the rock down on the man's head once more, hearing and feeling the skull cave in, killing the man. Harry then dropped the rock and stared at the dead body on the floor, numb.
"You gonna stare all night, boy? Or you gonna let me out of here?" Harry startled and looked up at the man in front of him, who no longer appeared to have yellow-eyes.
"Y-your eyes. Th-they're brown." Harry said, voice scratchy from disuse and the trapped man chuckled quietly.
"I prefer hazel. You're gonna need to scratch away that symbol there to allow me to leave this thing." The man told him, and Harry nodded dumbly and stumbled over to the circle, dropping his bag to the floor next to the symbol the man had pointed to and then took out his dagger. He then knelt down and patiently began to scrape at the symbol, focusing all his attention on the task so that he didn't need to think about the bizarre situation he had found himself in.
"Y-you're free." Harry told the man blankly, and then stumbled away from him and shoved his knife in his bag before he threw it back over his shoulder and walked to the door.
"Kid." Harry stopped but didn't turn around. If the guy was just gonna kill him, Harry would rather he didn't see it coming. "I owe you my thanks. You saved me from some pretty nasty torture. If you ever find yourself in trouble, then call for Azazel and I'll find you and help you out."
Harry paused and frowned, wondering how the man could help him, seeing as, as far as Harry could tell, the man was a Muggle, but then shook his head and let out a mirthless chuckle.
"Az-Azazel." Harry rolled the name over his tongue and then shook his head. "Azazel? I-I'm already in trouble. I-I doubt y-you could help me."
"Try me."
"Y-you know how t-to hide me a-away from people who seem t-to be able t-to find me wherever I-I go? P-people who w-want me dead?" Harry asked him, still not looking away from the doorway, though he could hear as the man, Azazel, took a few steps closer to him.
"I can't hide you." Azazel told him and Harry nodded his head jerkily, once and then made to leave the building behind before any wizards could find him here. There was only one exit and entrance after all. However, Harry had only taken half a step towards the exit when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm, spinning him around the face the man. "But I can help you get away from them should they find you."
"W-why?" Harry asked him, confused.
"You helped me. I'm going to return the favour." Azazel informed him, glancing at the body of the other man in disgust, and then looking back at Harry and smirking.
"Al-alright. W-we need to leave here. I-I've. Here. I've been here t-too long." Harry told him, gently trying to pull his arm free from Azazel's grasp, but failing.
"Alright, we'll leave here. You got money?"
"S-some."
"How much is 'some'?"
"Th-three - three hundred."
"Right. How about we make a deal... what's your name kid?"
"H-Harry."
"Okay then, Harry. How about we make a deal?" Azazel asked him with a smirk, which made Harry eye him warily. "I'll help you get away from those hunting you and you return the favour for me."
"Wh-who's hunting y-you?"
"Men who don't like what I do. Now, do you accept the deal? I'll pay for our travels, you just need to fight when I need you to. Can you fight?"
"W-was trained to kill."
"Well, that just sweetens the deal!" Azazel crowed with a wide grin and Harry found a smile twitching at his lips for the first time in months. "So we got a deal?"
"W-we have a d-deal." Harry agreed with a nod, and then his eyes widened when Azazel smirked darkly and grabbed Harry more firmly, planting a kiss on Harry's lips, running his tongue over them before he pulled away. Harry gaped at the man and then numbly followed him out of the building. He couldn't help but shake the feeling he had just made a deal with the devil.
A/N - So... a new story. Heh. Should you wish to know, Lon Dubh is pronounced Hlon Doob, but it's not all that important to remember. Just a way for Harry to stay anonymous should he wish to. And the stammer is also going to stay. Sorry. I kinda figured that being subjected to the Cruciatus curse numerous times was going to have some sort of adverse affect, if not making him totally brain dead. Therefore, he has a stammer. *nods* Admit it, it makes him seem cute! Lol.
Also, can you tell Harry isn't going to be all sweetness and light in this? *snicker* Yeah... Um... Sam and Dean will pop up in it briefly in the next chapter, but they won't be pivotal to the plot until a bit later on. Maybe chapter four or five. I think.
So... what did you think? More importantly, Scarlet? Was it a good present? Okay... so not exactly happy... but it does sort of get happier! For Harry at least... anyone not on Harry's side... I'm thinking they may not be quite so happy. Heh. Still... Um... Was it good? Happy Birthday, Dear!
Summary - Used and betrayed, Harry snaps and runs, finding freedom in the form of a yellow-eyed stranger. With no restrictions or conscience, Harry is free to rip apart the world that betrayed him. Salt won't save you from this betrayed weapon.
Pairing - Azazel/Harry (Will be Lucifer/Harry later... Much, much later.)
Warnings - SLASH. Dark!Harry, somewhat evil!Harry, explicit sex, abuse, blurred lines of good and evil, cursing, torture, one almighty mindfuck of a fic. Probably will be added to as the fic progresses.
Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural. The rights to those belong to JK Rowling and Eric Kripke respectively. I am not making any money from this. Nor, actually, from the random poetry I write for magazines. Which sucks even more. 'Cause that is original.
This is for youaredriving! Happy birthday, Chickie! Hope you have a brilliant day!
Chapter One
July 17th, 1995 - Grimmauld Place
Harry sighed in boredom as he wandered down the stairs from his room in what he had been told was the house of Sirius. He had been brought from the Dursley's three weeks early for reasons that no one had told him yet and none of his friends were staying here. Making him bored. Very bored. He glanced to the side to make sure that the portrait of Sirius' mother was still asleep, he had learnt his lesson on waking her up on his second day there, and then stepped into the front hall of the house. Wondering what he could do.
Harry frowned when he realised that there was another meeting of the Order, which was apparently a group of wizards fighting against Voldemort, going on in the kitchen and they hadn't remembered to place any silencing wards around the door this time. Glancing over at Mrs Black's portrait to make sure that she was still asleep, Harry snuck towards the door and pressed himself against it, hoping that Moody either wasn't in the room, or wasn't looking his way.
" - sure that is our only choice?" Harry frowned as he heard Arthur Weasley's voice and wondered what they were talking about.
"It is the only choice we have, Arthur. We must train him first though." Dumbledore's voice filtered through the door, though slightly harder to hear, making Harry think he was further away from the door. Harry wondered who they were talking about, and who was going to get training.
"I don't like it." Professor McGonagall stated firmly, and Harry wondered when she had gotten here, as she hadn't been here for the first meeting they had had almost four hours ago.
"We do not have a choice. A part of him is in that boy. He needs to do his job, and then he must die. Taking the last piece of soul with him." Harry's blood ran cold as he listened to his headmaster discussing killing someone and wondered who it was they were talking about.
"So you're just going to train Harry up, send him out to kill Voldemort, and then kill him once he has?" Harry felt himself pale as he heard Sirius, Sirius, discuss his possible death like he was discussing the weather. Harry let out an almost silent whimper and wrapped his arms around his stomach as he took a stumbling step backwards from the door.
Harry glanced to the side on a whim and noticed Mrs Black awake and watching him silently, Harry sent her a sad smile, feeling tears running down his cheeks and then glanced back at the door to the kitchen.
"You need to run, boy. Flee. Clearly you heard something you didn't like. Run before they can do whatever it is that has you looking like that." Mrs Black told him in a shockingly quiet and calm voice, making Harry turn back to face her.
"They - they want to kill me. They want to train me to kill Vol - Voldemort, and then kill me." Harry told her, voice slightly hoarse and wetting his lips as his stomach tried to revolt against him.
"Then run as far and as fast as you can from here before they can do that."
"Why - why do you care? You - you hate half-bloods like me." Harry pointed out, nibbling on his lip until he tasted blood and frowning as he contemplated Mrs Black's words.
"I don't like half-bloods. But I have nothing against you. And if I can do anything to upset or anger my traitorous son, then I will try everything I can. So, run. Get money from your vaults, and then leave the country. The goblins will help you leave." Mrs Black told him and Harry stared at her for a second and then nodded his head once.
"Fine. Fine. But - what about - what about my stuff?"
"Anything in there that you can't buy a new one of? Possessions can be replaced. Your life on the other hand? That can't." Mrs Black told him and Harry nodded his head in agreement and then glanced back at the kitchen.
"I don't think I would want anything in there anymore, anyway. I know you were only doing it for yourself, but thank you." Harry told her and then turned his back and made his way to the front door, wondering where he was going to go.
He had just made it to the door, when the kitchen door slammed open and the members in there came running out, someone casting a spell that ripped the door out of his hand and slammed it shut. Harry gasped and spun around to place his back at door and face the eight adults staring at him. He glanced over at Mrs Black and noticed that she was pretending to be asleep once again, and Harry darted his attention back to the group of hostile wizards in front of him.
"Harry, my boy..." Dumbledore said in a calm voice, talking a step nearer to him, and Harry swallowed a whimper and pressed himself further against the door behind him and groped blindly for the doorknob.
"Dum - Dumbledore! I - I was just going to - to go out! For er... coffee! For coffee. I noticed a coffee house at the end of the road! Would you like me to get something for anyone else?" Harry asked them, trying to keep the fear out of his voice and sound normal.
"My boy, we cannot allow you to leave the house. It isn't safe out there for you." Dumbledore told him, looking apologetic, thought Harry just looked at him blankly.
'It's not safe for me in here.' Harry thought and then tried to wrack his brains for a reason that he could use to get out of the house.
"I'm sorry, my boy. It's for the greater good." Dumbledore said, suddenly, and Harry's head shot up to look at him in confusion, and then paled when he saw the wands being pointed at him. Harry just managed to glance over at Mrs Black to see her watching them with a frown on her face, when someone whispered something and a red spell slammed into him, knocking him unconscious.
1st September, 1995. Grimmauld Place.
Harry glanced up when the door to his room opened, letting him hear the hustle and bustle as everyone in the house got ready to leave for King's Cross, everybody but him. The door closed, silencing the noises from outside and making Harry turn to look at Sirius with thinly veiled curiosity.
"Harry."
"Sirius. Why... Can I... Am I not going to Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked him, nervously nibbling on his lower lip and glancing up at Sirius with wide eyes, making Sirius sigh and then move from the door to sit on the chair by the bed.
"Harry, you know why we have to do this. You need to be trained and you won't be getting the right training you need to kill You Know Who if you go to Hogwarts." Sirius told him with a sigh and Harry gave Sirius a wounded look and then nodded his head.
"I understand. What will I be trained in? Why have I been stuck in here for two months?" Harry asked him, feeling a dark suspicion building inside of himself.
"We have needed to keep you away from people who might have wanted to hurt you. And you will be trained in blades and different offensive curses." Sirius informed him with a small smile, getting a smaller one from Harry, that Harry had had to force.
"Okay. And... will I get to eat today?"
"No, Harry. You need to learn to go without food for a few days at a time. You'll get something to eat tomorrow." Sirius informed him sadly and Harry nodded, biting his lip hard to stop himself from asking something that might upset Sirius.
"Okay. Thank you for coming to talk to me."
"No problems, Kiddo! I've got to go and see the others to Kings Cross now. Someone will come to discuss your training schedule with you later on tonight." Sirius told him with a bright smile, then stood up and left the room. Harry sat on his bed, absently playing with his duvet cover whilst he stared at the door with a frown on his face.
3rd November, 1995. Grimmauld Place.
Harry winced as the cut across his back, from when he didn't dodge a curse in time, pulled and opened again. He could feel the sluggish trickle of blood run down his back, and not for the first time, wished that Dumbledore had just killed him instead of deciding to train him to kill Voldemort first.
He had learnt that Voldemort had made several things called Horcruxes that were parts of Voldemort's split soul. And apparently he had one inside himself. Which made Harry shudder.
Harry had realised that he and Voldemort were connected via their minds about a month ago, when he had watched emotionlessly as Voldemort had tortured some poor Muggle woman. Harry couldn't even find the energy to care about the woman. He had lost the ability and energy to do much more than blink and dodge the curses thrown at him by mid September. He had learnt fairly quickly that no one was going to help him get out of this, and that the longer it took him to learn the spells they were teaching him, and how to use the weapons they wished for him to learn about, then the longer he would be trapped here being fed the bare minimum and tortured for asking anything. Or for not following orders. Didn't strike Harry as being very 'light'. Nor did it make him want to save anyone anymore. Just made him angrier. He clung to that anger, it was the only emotion he thought he could feel anymore.
Harry startled when he heard a pop in the room, and then hissed in pain as it caught the cuts on his back. He frowned when he saw a house elf looking back at him and was pretty sure he remembered seeing this house elf around the house before he had been locked away.
"Mistress is making plans. Mistress told me to come and inform you that plans are being made for your release." The elf, Kreacher? Harry thought that was its name, told him with a slight sneer.
"Mis - You mean Mrs Black? She's trying to get me out of here? How?"
"Kreacher cannot say right now. I will come back when it is time. Mistress says learn what you can and stay prepared."
"Mistress should have been a boy scout." Harry muttered as Kreacher popped out of the room, leaving Harry alone to wonder how a portrait was going to be of any help whatsoever.
16th March, 1996. Grimmauld Place.
Harry sneered at the utter naivety that Hermione's letter to him portrayed. 'It's for your own good' He was pretty sure that being trained to kill a man with decades more experience than him and then wait to be killed by the same people who trained him to off the afore mentioned man, didn't come under the title 'for your own good'.
'Learning new spells sounds so exciting.' Sure if you thought having spells flung at your head and then having to find the counter in dusty old books before it killed you was fun.
'I'm so happy that you are taking things so seriously.' Considering Harry hadn't ever actually sent her a letter, he was a little shocked that she knew, or thought she knew, he was taking things seriously. Not that he had much choice. He didn't particularly want to die, so he had to take things seriously and hope that Mrs Black and Kreacher could get him out in time.
'Ron, Ginny and I will be allowed to visit you when we finish for the year. Dumbledore has informed us that you will be staying in Grimmauld Place for a couple of days.'Yes, a couple of days for the rest of his seemingly very short life.
'Ginny is very excited about seeing you. I think she wishes to ask you something.' Harry had actually groaned when he read that, then thought it over and started to giggle hysterically. Clearly Ginny had not been informed about his expiration date. Or she was into necrophilia. Perhaps that was what she was going ask. Maybe she wishes to have her wicked (and decidedly disturbing) way with his dead body. Harry would let her have at it. Not like he was going to be needing it in Hell.
'We are all very eager to here about what you have been doing in Dumbledore's private cottage in Cornwall. Your description of it was beautiful.' His description of it? When had he ever been there? Or spoken to Hermione since leaving Kings Cross at the end of his fourth year? Clearly there was something strange going on. Harry couldn't wait to see the expressions on whoever would be supervising this visit when he was asked about the cottage.
'Please continue with your studies and perhaps we can trade spells we have learnt through the year with one another.' Harry snickered and considered telling Hermione about how he was being taught the best way to fall when having the Cruciatus thrown at him. Not that there really was a best way. Well, he had learnt the way to fall that would break the least, if any, limbs when he hit the ground. That could be seen as the best way, he supposed.
'Think of everyone you will save with all this training. Cedric will be proud.' That made Harry growl and crumple the parchment up in anger. If Cedric was proud, then Harry was glad Voldemort had killed him. Why would anyone be proud of someone who allowed themselves to be beaten, whipped, starved and belittled, and then wait for death to come to him. Harry would admit, if only to himself that he sort of wanted to die by this point. He was fed up of his life. He'd be even happier if he died before taking Voldemort out. Leave the wizards and witches of Britain to deal with it alone. Harry smirked at that thought, then sighed, knowing that wasn't how it was going to go. He wasn't that lucky.
23rd June, 1996. Grimmauld Place.
Harry jerked awake from the dream he had just had and glanced around his room as he waited for his heart to slow down. He had just had a vision of Sirius being tortured in a place with high shelves. Frowning, he rubbed his temples to try and stave off the headache he could feel building up behind his eyes and then sighed.
"What to do? What to do?" Harry muttered, getting up from his bed and walking over to where he had placed the dagger he had taken from his last training session and picked it up, playing with it in his hands.
"Kreacher?" Harry called out tentatively, wondering if the elf would actually come when Harry called for him. Harry had never actually tried before and so was somewhat surprised when the elf appeared in front of him with a small pop.
"Little Master called?" Kreacher asked in a quiet voice, as he bowed low in front of Harry.
"Is Sirius in the house?"
"No. Big Bad Master is not be being in the house." Kreacher told him, and Harry frowned and nibbled on his lip in indecision. "Is something wrong, Little Master?"
"Something? No, Kreacher. There's nothing wrong. Thank you for coming when I called."
"If yous be needing anything at all, just call for Kreacher."
"Thank you."
"Kreacher not being able to bring you food though. Kreacher is sorry." Kreacher told him, looking somewhat sad at that announcement, and Harry smiled softly and nodded.
"It's alright, Kreacher. I'm used to it anyway. Thank you. When... If... Should Sirius come back, can you and inform me?"
"Of course, Little Master. Kreacher be going now." Kreacher told him with another low bow, and then popped out of the room.
He wasn't sure if it was disappointment or disinterest that he felt when Kreacher popped back in the room five hours later to inform him of Sirius' return to the house.
31st July, 1996. Grimmauld Place.
Harry had been in the same room for just over a year now, and had been informed by a smirking Snape, that it was his sixteenth birthday today. And for his present, he was going to be put against three Aurors, with only a sword and a dagger. He got to choose which ones though. Because they were nice like that. Yeah. Nice.
Harry smirked though as he picked up his favourite dagger that he was allowed to keep in the room, and then wrinkled his nose and he chose a sword. If he was allowed to be honest, which he rarely was, then he didn't really like using swords. He preferred using knives and daggers. Being wizards, they hadn't taught him how to use guns, which Harry thought was a waste given that he doubted Voldemort would expect them to be used either. Not that he really wanted to kill Voldemort anymore anyways. The man had never done anything nearly as bad to him as the Order had. He was just going through the motions now so that they wouldn't forget to feed him again.
"Come, Potter. Quit stalling. We are going to see how much of the training you have put into practice, and how much we need to keep training you." Snape told him with a sneer. Harry managed to hold back the sneer he wanted to throw back at Snape, knowing that it would only cause him to be punished, and just stared that the man blankly, then grabbed a bastard sword and walked over to the man. "About time."
Snape growled under his breath as he led Harry out of his room and across the empty hallway into the room he was normally trained in. He entered and saw Moody waiting for him with a sadistic grin on his face, standing in front of two other men that Harry didn't recognise.
"Potter. This is Auror Dawlish and Auror Banks. They will be with me in this duel, and we will see how well you have been taking in the training. You are to try and disable us using the two weapons you have chosen. Do not aim to kill." Moody warned him and this time Harry couldn't hold back the sneer, as he knew that rule wouldn't apply to the three Aurors.
He was proven correct when he quickly had to dodge a killing curse as soon as the door closed behind Snape, and Harry cursed quietly as he dropped the sword when he dived to the side.
"Up, Potter! Stop dallying about!" Moody snapped out and Harry hissed something not very complimentary out at him in Parseltongue, making one of the Aurors, Dawlish Harry thought, pale and gape at him. Which Harry used to his advantage and threw his dagger at him, grinning when it stabbed through the man's wand hand.
Dawlish cried out in pain, dropping his wand and then turning his attention to pull the dagger out of his hand as painlessly as possible. Harry meanwhile had moved as soon as the dagger had left his hand and dodged another spell aimed at his head, grabbing the sword as he ran to the other side of the room, mentally trying to figure out how to get his dagger back.
Harry hissed out another curse when a spell managed to hit him, and made his left arm go numb. Harry wondered when it would wear off, or if it would at all without the counter curse, which he had never been taught.
It took a further thirty minutes of dodging curses, and trying to fight with only one arm, when he finally saw an opening and sliced the sword along the wand arm of the second Auror, Dawlish having left the room once he had gotten the dagger out and had flung it away from him. Harry was rather grateful that the man hadn't had the forethought to take the dagger out of the room with him. Moody would have done.
Harry kicked away the wand of Banks as soon as it dropped to the floor from Bank's numb arm and rolled towards Harry. Harry snickered mentally as he finally took that chance to drop the sword and grab the dagger instead, then turned and eyed up Moody, who, he realised, had just been standing back and watching him, whilst occasionally throwing a curse his way.
Harry decided to waste no time and darted forwards, dodging another curse sent his way and then had to dive out of the way of a Crucio sent towards him, grumbling as it actually meant he was further away from Moody once more. Banks had, by that time, managed to retrieve his wand once more, and didn't seem to get the rules of the game that you left once disarmed, because he sent a particularly nasty dark curse at Harry before he left the room.
Harry shook his arm out as he felt the curse slowly start to spread down it, making it feel like liquid ice was running through the veins in his arm, and knew that he had to finish this somehow, quickly before it made it so that he had no useable arms to use in the duel.
Moody clearly realised the predicament that Harry was in, as he grinned ferally and then began to throw curse after curse at Harry, making Harry have to keep dodging them and have no chance of getting anywhere near the ex-Auror.
Harry yelped in pain and then bit his lip as he failed to dodge a cruciatus curse and felt it travel over his body, making him drop to his knees, clenching his fist around his dagger. He sensed Moody coming nearer to him, but the pain was too much for him to do anything about it.
The curse was lifted after what felt like hours, but was probably only a couple of minutes at the most, and just as Harry took a deep breath, he felt something get slammed into the back of his head, and was knocked out cold.
Harry came around with a monster headache and groaned in pain, muscles aching and occasionally twitching from aftershocks of the cruciatus curse he had been held under, and then took stock of his room, noticing that Sirius and Dumbledore were waiting in the room, talking in low voices.
They both turned around and regarded him with veiled stares when Harry slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, noting that the dagger was still clenched in his hand and frowned, wondering why no one had taken it off of him.
"It shocked anyone who tried to take it. You've bonded to it." Sirius answered, making Harry wonder if he had voiced his question aloud. Harry then turned to stare at the two men emotionlessly, he no longer felt anything towards the two men but dark betrayal and furious anger.
"You failed the task we set for you, so you will be punished like usual. You will not be allowed to sleep for the next five days, and you will have to duel against someone from the Order every afternoon for an hour or until one of you wins the duel. Should you lose, then another day will be added to your withdrawal from sleep. Do you understand?" Dumbledore asked him in his stern but still grandfatherly voice, which contradicted the words being said.
"Yes." Harry said dully, noting absently that Sirius winced at his monotonous tone and wondering why Sirius was still feeling guilty, but also feeling a vicious sense of pleasure that he was.
"Good. Now, Sirius is here to talk to you about something. I shall leave you two alone for a while. Once Sirius has left, I expect you to continue training now that you are awake." Dumbledore told him with a kindly smile, making Harry have to hold back a mirthless laugh and the two wizards watched as Dumbledore left the room. Harry then turned to face Sirius with a raised eyebrow.
"Harry. Your parents entrusted me with your care should they die." Harry actually couldn't stop himself from snorting derisively then.
"Bang up job you are doing of that, Sirius." Harry told him in his usual monotonous voice and Sirius flinched as though physically struck.
"Yes. This is for the best Harry. You'll see."
"Will that be before or after you kill me?"
"Harry. Don't make this difficult. I am here to talk to you about your magic." Sirius told him with a sigh and Harry looked at him curiously.
"What about it? Found a way to take that from me as well? Not like you really let me use it, is it? So why not?"
"No, Harry. No one can take your magic away from you." Sirius told him and Harry felt a small feeling of relief inside at that news. "No, now that you are sixteen, your magic will be becoming more and more volatile as it gets you ready for the magical increase you will get on your seventeenth birthday. It is why you possibly bonded with that dagger." Sirius told him and Harry glanced away from Sirius and looked at the dagger he was still holding in his hand.
Harry ignored Sirius in favour of looking at the dagger, twirling it in his hand and noticing, in the corner of his eye, that Sirius was fidgeting nervously.
"Is that all you wished to talk to me about?" Harry asked him, placing the dagger down on his bed.
"No. When you were a baby, I bonded with you magically. It... it was to make you my heir if I didn't have any children of my own by the time you reached your magical maturity."
"So I'm your heir?" Harry asked him dully, and Sirius nodded slowly and then winced and ran a hand through his hair.
"Yeah... but..."
"But I'm going to die. So you don't want me as your heir anymore." Harry stated, still monotonously and Sirius actually gave a sigh of relief and smiled widely at Harry an nodded.
"Yes!"
"And?"
"And? What do you mean, and?"
"I mean, what do you want me to do about it?" Harry asked him blandly, withholding the sigh he wanted to let out.
"I need to you er... stand down."
"Stand down?"
"Yeah, I need you to er... say you don't want to be my heir anymore. Well... there's a ritual and stuff as well, but it has to start with you saying you don't want the title of Lord Black when I die. That way I can appoint a new heir." Sirius told him smoothly and Harry stared at him before he let a small smirk slowly cross his lips.
"No." Harry told him bluntly, and Sirius jerked and then gaped at him.
"Harry!"
"No. Why should I? No. Then you can live with the knowledge that you killed your heir. Your only heir. Magic will never forgive you of that, Sirius." Harry told him with a malicious glint in his eyes.
"Harry, you have to! What good will it do you to stay my heir?"
"I know the harm it will cause you. So I, Harry James Potter, accept the bloodlines of the Black's into my family." Harry told him, smirking when he saw Sirius gasp and clutch at his heart. "Is that everything? Father?"
"Harry..." Sirius whispered weakly, staring at Harry in horror. "Why?"
"You hurt me, I returned the favour. Just remember what I am when you drive the knife into my heart." Harry told him with a sweet smile and Sirius just stared at him and then shook his head. "You can go now. I have to train. Got to get ready to die and take you down to Hell with me."
28th August, 1996. Grimmauld Place.
Harry looked up from the book he had been ordered to read when there was a sharp knock on his door and then Dumbledore entered the room.
"Harry, my boy. How are you today?"
"Fine."
"Good! Good! I have some good news for you. Your friends are here for a visit. You are to inform them that you cannot talk about all the training you have been doing, nor about the location. Also hide your dagger. They mustn't know you have a bonded weapon." Dumbledore added when he noticed that Harry had been playing with said dagger as he listened to Dumbledore's orders.
"Of course." Harry told him, keeping anything he had to say to a bare minimum so that he didn't say anything that would cause Dumbledore to punish him again.
"Good! I'll send them in with Sirius then, shall I?" Dumbledore asked, and then left the room without waiting for a response from Harry. Not that he would have got one. He did, however, also miss the narrowed eyed look Harry sent at his back.
The door opened again a minute or so later, and Sirius walked in, followed by widely smiling Hermione, Ron and Ginny. If Harry was honest, he had no idea why Ginny was there. He barely spoke to the girl. Save a person once and they cling to you like flies stick to shit.
"Harry! You look so healthy!" Hermione gushed, making Harry frown in confusion as he was pretty sure he must look like shit, having not bothered to brush his hair for over three weeks, and not having had a proper meal for longer than even that.
"Er..."
"So, Harry mate. What kind of training have you been doing? Couldn't you have asked if me and Hermione could have joined you? We do always get into those messes with you." Ron pointed out and Harry narrowed his eyes at him and then sneered.
"Ask Dumbledore. Tell him you want the same training I am getting. You'll love it, I'm sure." Harry told him in a dull voice that made Ron falter in his response, and Hermione and Ginny to frown.
"He said that he would consider it next year. Before seventh year starts." Hermione informed him before Ron could say anything else that would make Harry's slowly waning control to finally snap.
"Good for you." Harry told them blankly, realising that that meant he would be dead by then. He glanced over at Sirius, and Sirius quickly shifted to avoid his stare, proving Harry's thoughts correct.
"You could sound a bit more excited for us. You sound right depressed, mate. You'd think you'd be grateful for all the training you're getting." Ron told him jealously, and Harry actually physically felt something inside him snap as he threw himself across the room at Ron, dagger in hand, not even registering the looks of horror on the faces of his friends.
Sirius jumped into action as soon as Harry's eyes flashed in anger, and had managed to grab Harry before he actually reached Ron to do some serious damage to the stupid boy.
"Harry!" Sirius yelled, and Harry sagged against the arms holding him back and stared emotionlessly at his horrified friends, noting absently that Ron was slowly getting more and more red. Until he exploded.
"What the hell, Harry? What is wrong with you? Dumbledore mentioned that you had become more and more unbalanced, but we didn't believe him! Now we do. His plans for you after the war are sounding more and more understandable." Ron spat, flinching back when Harry growled and began to struggle against Sirius once more to get to him.
Later, when he was still chained to the wall in his bare room, all furniture having been taken away as punishment, Harry realised that the dagger had appeared in his hand when he had lunged for Ron. Harry had hidden the dagger under his bed just before the others had entered the room after all. Harry frowned and looked at his hands, ignoring the manacles around his skeletal wrists and then smirked at this new piece of knowledge. If he was going down, the Order was going down with him.
1st January, 1997
Harry jumped and stared when Kreature appeared in the room before him, grinning widely at him, which Harry thought was very creepy on the maudlin little elf.
"Er... K-Kreacher? W-what a-are y-you doing here?" Harry asked, frowning and tilting his head at the elf in confusion.
"Mistress and the goblins have done it. Little Master can be free today. You's be taking this globe and it be taking you to the goblins." Kreacher told him, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Er... thank y-you, K-Kreacher. W-wait. I-I'm finally free? I... can get out o-of here?" Harry asked him, gaping at the excitable elf in front of him.
"Yes! Yous be taking everything that you need and be taking this globe. Then yous be free." Kreacher informed him, waving the small glass orb in front of him. "Be quick! The wizards be waking soon from their party."
"Party? W-what... w-wait, w-what day is i-it?" Harry asked him, as he grabbed his spare change of clothes and his dagger and then walked to stand in front of Kreacher.
"It be the first day of the year. Now, yous be free. Harry is to be the Lord Black this year. Call for Kreacher and Kreacher shall come." Kreacher told him and Harry nodded, then took the globe from him.
"Th-thank y-you for e-everything, Kreacher." Harry told him with a small smile, just as he felt the hook behind his navel drag him away from his prison.
1st January, 1997. Gringotts Bank
Harry dropped to the floor in the room the portkey had dropped him in and gripped the dagger tightly as he looked around the room and noticed a goblin sitting at the desk in the room, watching him equally as warily.
"Soon-to-be Lord Black. We received news that you would be needing our help, seeing as you will soon be one of our richest customers, we decided to help you." The goblin informed him, once Harry had stood up and loosened his grip on the dagger.
"Th-thank you." Harry said, cursing his stutter, which was apparently a side effect of being held under the cruciatus too long. Apparently, should anyone have ever actually kept their mind, then they too would have had a stutter.
"You are welcome. We have a portkey that will take you out fot he country. We have also falsified some documents that you might be asked for. Including false records of education, a passport, a card to your vaults and a false identity that will partially hide you from those searching for you. Mrs Black informed us that there would be people searching for you once we helped you get out of the country."
"Er... Ye-yes. Yes, they w-will be. A - A new name?" Harry asked him curiously, not entirely sure he wanted a new name.
"Yes, you will still be known as Harry Potter, but you will also be known as Harry Lon Dubh should anyone be searching for you. The name on your passport and visa will be Harry Lon Dubh."
"W-what kind of name i-is Lon?" Harry asked, not entirely sure he was taking in everything that was being said?
"It is an old name. Now then, Mr Potter. The portkey will take you to San Antonio, America. It should take the wizards a while to track you there, but you will need to leave here before they realise you have gone. Do you have everything you need?"
"Erm... I - I th-think so. Y-yes. Money?" Harry asked, glancing down at the spare pair of black jeans and a black shirt that he had draped over his arm and the dagger he was still gripping tightly in his hand.
"Ah, in this envelope, you will find everything you may need. Your bank cards, one to each family's main vault, and one to another vault, the documents you will need for those cards, your passport, your visa, it states that you are a hired private detective for Gringotts, which should they look up will see that we are a large business firm and bank. Tell them you check out customers that we think are scamming us. There is also a birth certificate in there should you need it." The goblin informed him, handing over a thick white envelope, which Harry took and stared at, and then looked back up at the goblin. "Should you need us, there is also a phone number you can ring up. We also have a branch in Washington DC and Los Angeles. Here is the portkey. You need to leave now. The password is this bank." The goblin told him and Harry numbly took the portkey, not completely aware of what was happening.
The goblin coughed when Harry had been sitting there, staring at nothing for a short while, making Harry jerk and glance up at him.
"S-sorry. Gringotts." Harry muttered, and for the second time that day, felt the tug behind his navel and then left England behind. Hopefully for good. The wizards could all burn for all he cared.
11th April, 1997. Chicago.
Harry glanced around him as he stepped off the bus that had brought him to yet another large, anonymous city, and where he would hopefully be able to hide from the wizards for at least long enough so he could sleep. Though he didn't believe it in the least. They had, so far, managed to find him in every city he had been in for the last three and a bit months. He had already lost two of his credit cards, both the ones for his family vault, and he didn't dare use the one that the goblins had given him. He had no idea where the money came from for it. So he was now running out of any money that he had managed to take out of the Black vaults before he had had to leave the card behind in the motel room he had run from.
He sighed and then trudged in the direction that he hoped a cheap motel was. Or at least an abandoned building he could hide out in for the night. Thankfully he still had his dagger and some clothes that he had in a rucksack he had bought on his first day in America, but that was about it. That, and three hundred dollars.
Harry noticed an old building that looked slightly dilapidated and hopefully very abandoned, and hurried his walking towards it. He grabbed a plank of wood barring the door and tugged at it until it broke away, cursing as he squeezed through the gap it left, and then fell on the other side. He then stayed kneeling on the floor and carefully picked out the splinters the wood had left in his hands, until he thought he had got them all out and then wiped the blood on his ratty t-shirt and pushed himself up off the ground.
He carefully made his way towards the back of the building, hoping that would buy him some time, should the wizards find him here again, and then threw his bag on the floor and lay down, lying his head on the bag and shutting his eyes in sleep for the first time in a week.
Harry jerked awake, wondering what had woken him and trying to calm his heart down, looking around the dark room, and glancing at the slithers of light from the moon shining through the slats of wood.
He jerked in shock when he heard it again. Someone was screaming in pain somewhere near the building he was hiding in. Harry pushed himself up off the floor and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulders. He figured he had managed to get a fair few hours of sleep and that he was pushing his luck if he stayed here for much longer. The nearer to his birthday it got, the more his magic spiked, alerting the wizards searching for him to where he was. Which sucked.
Harry kicked at the slats of wood blocking the doorway in the room he had slept in, ignoring the tortured screams coming from wherever they were coming from and then squeezed out of the building, and walked to the alleyway beside the building. The screams were louder out here and Harry nibbled his lip and then cursed himself as he made his way towards them.
They were coming from an old shed like building that looked even more dilapidated than the building he had slept in looked. Walking over to the one window he could see, Harry glanced inside and then frowned when he noticed an older man, who looked to be in his late forties, early fifties. The one doing the screaming was another, younger man, who looked to be in his thirties. Both men were bleeding, but the screaming man also looked burnt in places, and appeared to be standing in the middle of a circle made up of runes.
The older man began to chant something, which made the younger jerk and then begin to writhe as he yelled out in pain, before he laughed and spat on the floor. Harry raised an eyebrow at the man, and then, in a fit of insanity that Harry will question for the remainder of his life, he decided to do something to help. He picked up a heavy rock from the floor next to him and then entered the small shack, clenching his fingers around the cold stone in his hands. He crept up behind the man still chanting, noticing that the other man had noticed him, and, Harry noticed for the first time, had yellow eyes. The man stopped chanting when he noticed that the yellow-eyed man had stopped chuckling and narrowed his eyes at him.
"Something to say?" The man said with a strong southern accent, and Harry slowly lifted the rock above his head, locked eyes with the yellow-eyed man and then brought the rock down on the taller mans head, hard. The man stood no chance and crumpled to the floor unconscious, blood beginning to run from the cut on the back of his head.
Harry stared at the man and then at the rock in his hands, before he snarled and brought the rock down on the man's head once more, hearing and feeling the skull cave in, killing the man. Harry then dropped the rock and stared at the dead body on the floor, numb.
"You gonna stare all night, boy? Or you gonna let me out of here?" Harry startled and looked up at the man in front of him, who no longer appeared to have yellow-eyes.
"Y-your eyes. Th-they're brown." Harry said, voice scratchy from disuse and the trapped man chuckled quietly.
"I prefer hazel. You're gonna need to scratch away that symbol there to allow me to leave this thing." The man told him, and Harry nodded dumbly and stumbled over to the circle, dropping his bag to the floor next to the symbol the man had pointed to and then took out his dagger. He then knelt down and patiently began to scrape at the symbol, focusing all his attention on the task so that he didn't need to think about the bizarre situation he had found himself in.
"Y-you're free." Harry told the man blankly, and then stumbled away from him and shoved his knife in his bag before he threw it back over his shoulder and walked to the door.
"Kid." Harry stopped but didn't turn around. If the guy was just gonna kill him, Harry would rather he didn't see it coming. "I owe you my thanks. You saved me from some pretty nasty torture. If you ever find yourself in trouble, then call for Azazel and I'll find you and help you out."
Harry paused and frowned, wondering how the man could help him, seeing as, as far as Harry could tell, the man was a Muggle, but then shook his head and let out a mirthless chuckle.
"Az-Azazel." Harry rolled the name over his tongue and then shook his head. "Azazel? I-I'm already in trouble. I-I doubt y-you could help me."
"Try me."
"Y-you know how t-to hide me a-away from people who seem t-to be able t-to find me wherever I-I go? P-people who w-want me dead?" Harry asked him, still not looking away from the doorway, though he could hear as the man, Azazel, took a few steps closer to him.
"I can't hide you." Azazel told him and Harry nodded his head jerkily, once and then made to leave the building behind before any wizards could find him here. There was only one exit and entrance after all. However, Harry had only taken half a step towards the exit when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm, spinning him around the face the man. "But I can help you get away from them should they find you."
"W-why?" Harry asked him, confused.
"You helped me. I'm going to return the favour." Azazel informed him, glancing at the body of the other man in disgust, and then looking back at Harry and smirking.
"Al-alright. W-we need to leave here. I-I've. Here. I've been here t-too long." Harry told him, gently trying to pull his arm free from Azazel's grasp, but failing.
"Alright, we'll leave here. You got money?"
"S-some."
"How much is 'some'?"
"Th-three - three hundred."
"Right. How about we make a deal... what's your name kid?"
"H-Harry."
"Okay then, Harry. How about we make a deal?" Azazel asked him with a smirk, which made Harry eye him warily. "I'll help you get away from those hunting you and you return the favour for me."
"Wh-who's hunting y-you?"
"Men who don't like what I do. Now, do you accept the deal? I'll pay for our travels, you just need to fight when I need you to. Can you fight?"
"W-was trained to kill."
"Well, that just sweetens the deal!" Azazel crowed with a wide grin and Harry found a smile twitching at his lips for the first time in months. "So we got a deal?"
"W-we have a d-deal." Harry agreed with a nod, and then his eyes widened when Azazel smirked darkly and grabbed Harry more firmly, planting a kiss on Harry's lips, running his tongue over them before he pulled away. Harry gaped at the man and then numbly followed him out of the building. He couldn't help but shake the feeling he had just made a deal with the devil.
A/N - So... a new story. Heh. Should you wish to know, Lon Dubh is pronounced Hlon Doob, but it's not all that important to remember. Just a way for Harry to stay anonymous should he wish to. And the stammer is also going to stay. Sorry. I kinda figured that being subjected to the Cruciatus curse numerous times was going to have some sort of adverse affect, if not making him totally brain dead. Therefore, he has a stammer. *nods* Admit it, it makes him seem cute! Lol.
Also, can you tell Harry isn't going to be all sweetness and light in this? *snicker* Yeah... Um... Sam and Dean will pop up in it briefly in the next chapter, but they won't be pivotal to the plot until a bit later on. Maybe chapter four or five. I think.
So... what did you think? More importantly, Scarlet? Was it a good present? Okay... so not exactly happy... but it does sort of get happier! For Harry at least... anyone not on Harry's side... I'm thinking they may not be quite so happy. Heh. Still... Um... Was it good? Happy Birthday, Dear!