Chapter 22: Twenty Two

Notes:

Here's the second half of the chapter. It's nothing more than a fun chapter (well not 'fun' fun, but you know what I mean) because I think the story has been very plotty lately.

Warning for slight/implied sexual content, attempted non-con, and unintentional self-injury.

Chapter Text

X

Falling was a strange feeling.

It was oddly satisfying; the feeling of being free. It was like you were just there, completely weightless and away from the world.

It was also terrifying, knowing gravity was there to pull you back to reality. It was worse not knowing when the ground was coming; all Harry could see beyond his flailing arms was the ceiling and staircase getting further and further away, and no matter how much he reached he couldn't get close enough to hold on.

Marvolo Slytherin's head swam into view high above him, there was white flash and then he felt a split second of excruciating pain before his mind went blank.

X

Harry blinked his eyes a number of times as he tried to bring himself back into full consciousness.

He remembered falling far onto the bottom floor of Hogwarts, but the ground beneath him was not the cold, stone floor he expected; it was soft, but rough and prickly, and there was sky above his head, rather than the upper areas of the old castle.

He frowned, pushing himself from the ground with ease, feeling no pain as he went. He had fallen four floors; surely he would have sustained some injury. He wondered if he had perhaps imagined it, but that still didn't give him an explanation for how he got to where he was now.

Wherever he was, it was very bleak, though oddly beautiful at the same time. There were rolling hills and fields as far as he could see, and there was a low covering of plants, maybe ferns, that had turned brown and brittle. There were sharp, dramatic rocks and he could hear the sound of a ferocious river nearby. The cold chill in the air, and the frosty patches suggested it was somewhere more northerly.

The area seemed familiar; he vaguely recalled going on family camping holidays when he was very young; they had stopped going when Harry was five after he managed to lose his family and nearly drowned. He had never been near a river since, and the only holidays they took were in hotels and he was closely guarded.

He patted down his body for his wand, but he couldn't find it on him, and a search in the nearby area turned up hopeless too. His mind seemed unable to focus on Ancient Magic, leaving him completely defenceless.

He always felt defenceless without a wand, so he wrapped his arms around himself, both for comfort and warmth, and decided he would have to find a way out of where ever he was.

He headed up a steep hill, his legs brushing against the dying plants, and the ground crunching beneath his feet.

He stopped as he heard shouting; there had been no other signs of life until then, but the shouting sounded like somebody was in danger.

He ran towards the direction of the shouting, and when he reached the top of the hill he could see what was below.

It steered into a deep valley, with large, leafless trees dotted about, with a powerful river running across it and up the slopes on the other side.

He hurried down the hill, still hearing the shouting, and it sounded like that of a small child's, but he was unable to see anyone.

As he got closer to the bottom, he heard frantic splashing; his blood froze as he eyed the river, horrified at the thought that a child may have fallen in.

Harry caught sight of a small hand poking up from the river slightly to the side of him, and a small head appeared with enough time to shout before it was back under the coursing stream.

He looked around, desperate to find anything to throw to the child to grab onto, but he saw nothing that would be of any use; he wanted to throw himself on the floor and cry, but he knew that wouldn't save anyone.

He edged towards the river, jumping back as he saw how rough the flow really was. He shook his head; he couldn't be scared; a child's life was at stake.

He crouched down near the edge, reaching a hand forward to grab towards the kid.

"Take my hand," he shouted when the head appeared again. He pressed slightly more forwards, keeping his other hand firmly against the ground to steady himself.

A small, wet hand grabbed hold of his, and he pulled the child towards the river bank.

Suddenly the child stopped moving forwards, and it became very still in the water, with it's head forwards so only a mop of dark hair was visible.

Harry felt sick at the thought he might have been too late, but then he heard laughter coming from the child; but it was not a child's laughter at all; no, it was much too menacing.

The head titled back, and Harry would have let go had the kid's grip not been like a vice on his hand.

The child was him.

He was Harry exactly as he had been when he was five, except Harry didn't ever hold the expression of a psychotic maniac on his face, and his eyes had certainly never glowed red.

The alternate-Harry grinned evilly, showing a mouth full of sharp, blood-stained teeth, before it yanked, pulling Harry cleanly into the water.

He only had enough time to realise the child had disappeared before panic overtook him as the water rushed over him.

He had developed a fear of deep water after the incident as a child, and though Lily had tried to make him have swimming lessons to help, he had done nothing but scream at the swimming pool and his parents eventually gave up. At the time he had been pleased, but now he regretted that decision greatly.

He tried desperately to kick his legs so he could swim to the side, but the current was too strong, and water poured over his head, each time making his heart race more and giving him an even stronger sense of panic.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, and he was hyperventilating, flailing his arms wildly as he tried to hold onto anything that could save him.

The current pulled him down the river, and he was starting to send more time submerged than not. He knew the water on his face was partly due to tears, as he reached the intense conclusion he would drown very soon, and the river would be his undiscovered grave.

He moved his limbs violently, thrashing as he felt the water seemingly getting heavier above his head.

He was grateful when he finally blacked out.

X

Harry awoke face down, still soaking wet but breathing, on a hard wooden floor.

He coughed, water spilling from his mouth and onto the floor, and he shakily pushed himself up.

The river was behind him, still flowing angrily, but he had washed up into a house, the back wall of the building completely gone and open to the water.

It looked oddly like Grimmauld Place, but that was nowhere near a river.

"I'm glad to see you're finally awake," a voice said from nowhere, causing Harry to jump, though he knew exactly who was speaking. "Your mind is truly a fascinating place, Harry," Marvolo stated once Harry had located him; standing in a darkened corner. "Those memories you locked deep away are fun to re-invent."

"What do you mean re-invent my memories?" Harry asked darkly, and Marvolo smirked.

"We're inside your mind right now," Marvolo told him, with a tone of annoyance, like it should have been obvious. "Only, I took it upon myself to make some changes. Don't fret though; you can die as many times as you like and you'll just wake up again here, which is lovely because drowning victims don't leave pretty corpses."

"We're inside my mind?" How have you-? What-?" Harry attempted to ask all of his questions, but he found the words were getting lost in his mouth; he had so much to try and understand, and Marvolo was not the sort of man who would patiently explain everything.

"I've taken your memories and added some different creations," the Dark wizard expanded. "The memory only leaves a fragment for you to experience again with the different elements, so you won't be reliving your memories; rather you'll be at the same place, and experience my changes. It's intriguing to see your reaction; you're my little experiment, you see; if this works well then I can use the spell as a weapon."

Then he vanished with a pop.

Harry growled, kicking out at a random chair which flew across the room with a loud clatter. In reaction to the noise, heavy footsteps sounded above; Harry felt his heart beating fast. Who knew what Marvolo had done up there?

If he had used Harry's memories to create situations, they were likely in Grimmauld Place, and that house was dangerous enough without a madman adding stuff in.

He jumped when water splashed at his feet. He turned, eyes widening as he took in the sight of a large, round figure emerging from, and made from the water. As it grew in height, it pushed more water into the open house.

It roared, bringing it's head down and crashing just beside Harry, and he had no choice but to run from the room.

The doorway led into the main hall, with it's rotten wooden floors, old creaky doors and rickety staircase.

He made for the front door, but he jumped back as a wall of flames appeared, blocking every possible exit aside from the staircase, where he could still hear the floorboards creaking on the floor it led to.

With each step, more fire sprung up behind him, and it forced him to go to one room in particular; the one with the slow footsteps inside.

Beyond the door he could hear low, guttural sounds and something dripping.

He could feel the heat getting stronger, and deciding whatever was in the room would be the least bad of the two options, he pushed the door open forcefully and stepped inside, bracing himself for what he would find, but the room was empty of anyone but him.

It was a bedroom, with a dark wooden bed, and a desk and a set of drawers made from the same wood that the bed was made of. A thick layer of dust covered everything in the room, and the window was covered with a murky green, slime type substance.

He cautiously moved over to the desk; the top was empty, bar a battered old diary lying on top. He picked it up and opened to the front page, where neatly written in the corner were the words 'property of Regulus Black'.

Regulus; that had been Sirius' brother. Sirius hadn't mentioned him much, only that he had been a Death Eater but killed for chickening out. He had seen a picture of the brothers once, and they looked very alike, except Regulus kept his appearance smart and well-groomed, while Sirius tried to rebel against his families values, even with his image.

Harry placed the diary down and opened the top drawer, and swore outloud as he saw the golden, gleaming locket that housed a Horcrux. Had Regulus had it all along, or did Kreacher just hide it in his room? Or was it Marvolo who put it somewhere Harry would find?

He slammed the drawer shut, not wanting to create another human form of Voldemort, when he heard the shuffling of feet behind him, and then someone was panting in his ear, breathing hot breath on him.

Harry froze, not even daring to breathe as a pale blue hand reached in front of him; the fingernails were blackened, and skin was worn away so much in places that Harry could see the bone beneath.

The hand grabbed hold of the drawer handle and pulled it open, reaching in and pulling out the locket. It stopped for a moment, then threw the locket aside, moving to the second drawer and producing a sharp silver blade.

Harry ducked and jumped to the side just as the knife hit the air where his neck had been.

Harry turned to look at who was there, and immediately wished he hadn't.

It was hard to tell, but Harry knew instantly it was Regulus Black, only, he didn't look like he had when he had been human. No, this Regulus had skin that was tainted blue, with long, lank dark hair hanging in strands from his head. One eyeball was dangling from a red band from the eye socket, and patches of skin were open and rotten.

Harry would have said it looked like a zombie, but Regulus was a wizard, and witches and wizards didn't know what zombies were; instead they had Inferi. Harry had never seen one before, but he pretty sure he was looking at one now.

He jumped out of the way again as the blade swung once more, and he pulled the door to the room open, almost crying in relief as he saw the way was now clear of flames.

The knife splintered the wood in the door frame by his head, so he ran, stopped only when a clammy hand gripped his ankle and pulled him to the floor. The Inferi pulled Harry's body towards him with surprising strength, and Harry could hear the teeth clenching, biting down as though he longed to eat Harry's flesh.

He desperately pulled for his leg to come free, and he jumped up when he had managed it, and with a daring leap he jumped over the banister and onto the floor below, just so he could save a bit of time running away.

He landed roughly, scraping his hands, arms and legs and he felt a searing pain across his forehead.

He forced himself up, limping to the front door. He broke into a run when Regulus burst through the floorboards, unexplainably, and clawed at his face.

He covered the bleeding wounds with one hand, pressing his other against the door to push it open.

He tripped over seemingly nothing as he passed through the doorway, and fell face first onto a soft carpet, that was definitely not part of a typical London street.

He couldn't hear the sounds of an Inferi any longer; instead he heard the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, and heavy panting.

He didn't particularly want to get up, feeling his face flush from what he was hearing, despite the pain he was in, but after a couple of minutes he realised he couldn't handle it anymore.

He nervously pushed himself to his feet, and blanched at the sight.

It was him, on a bed on his hands and knees, with thick chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles tying him to the bedposts. A blindfold was across his eyes, and a ball gag was shoved in his mouth, but the worst part was the figure of Marvolo behind the other-him, thrusting hard into the body.

Marvolo winked at him, making Harry cast his eyes down to the floor in disgust.

"Get off him-me," Harry said through gritted teeth, and he was answered with a shallow laugh.

"Why would I do that? I'm rather enjoying myself," Marvolo told him, and Harry could hear his smirk. "Being inside someone else's mind has some rather enjoyable opportunities," the man continued mockingly, his words interrupted by shallow moans and sounds of pleasure, which made Harry feel sick to his stomach.

He eyes caught sight of a foot dangling at an odd angle at the side of the bed. He moved slightly so he could see what it was, and Marvolo laughed cruelly as Harry exclaimed. It was Tom, or had been; now the body was bent at impossible angles, and the face had been beaten so hard it was barely recognisable. Even though Harry knew this was simply a Tom from his memories, he felt tears fill his eyes anyway, and he blinked them away.

He jolted when a cold hand gripped his arm, and Marvolo forced him to look at him. The man had a mad gleam in his eyes, and he was holding tightly onto a thick piece of rope.

"It's your turn now," Marvolo stated, dragging Harry over to the bed.

With a snap of his fingers the other Harry was gone, leaving room for Marvolo to settle himself in a seating position on the bed, pulling Harry between his legs. A strong arm wrapped around Harry's chest, and a hand yanked his head back to rest on Marvolo's shoulder.

Harry fought against the grip desperately, but Marvolo was much stronger than he was.

With another snap, the ropes had bound Harry's hands behind his back, while his legs were trapped in the grip of Marvolo's own, leaving the sociopath's hands free reign to abuse the rest of his body.

Cold hands worked their way under his shirt, and sharp nails dug into his skin, trailing from his stomach up to his chest, and then going back down.

Another hand moved down his body and under his trousers, and Harry squirmed frantically, only stopping when Marvolo squeezed him hard; too hard, causing him to cease his struggles and whimper.

Harry shut his eyes, wishing he could be far, far away from there.

His eyes snapped open as suddenly he wasn't, and the tight, terrifying grip of Marvolo had vanished, ropes were no longer digging into his skin, and the area he was in was no longer a bedroom, but a room filled with mirrors.

The walls were like that of a fun fair, and the ground was a wild design of multi-coloured shapes. Mirrors lined the walls, some creating distorted reflections.

It was a typical fun-house that Harry had been in plenty of during his childhood; they had gone to the fair every time it came to their area, after all.

His ears perked up when he heard strange cackling echoing throughout the room, but the only person he saw was himself, reflected a number of times.

He found himself drawn to one mirror in particular, because something seemed off about it.

He waved his arm, and the reflection waved back.

He stared straight at his reflection, and it stared straight back. But as he stared forwards, the reflection's eyes darted to the side, and it smirked.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

Everything started to spin, and he felt the room closing in on him. He sunk to the floor, holding his hands out to try and stop the walls and mirrors from crushing him to death.

Then it stopped, and Harry was left in a tiny room, all four walls being mirrors. He stood very still, watching his reflection pace from mirror to mirror, eyeing him critically.

It paused, looking at Harry with an evil glint in it's eyes, and then it slammed it's head against the mirror.

Harry felt a force make him do the same, and his head collided with a mirror. He heard a sickening smack, and he felt a warm liquid pouring down his face.

His reflection grinned, producing a knife from his pocket and dragging it across his wrist.

Harry's hand started to move to his own pocket of it's own accord, and his other hand stayed firmly in front of him, despite his desperation to move it, and he flinched as the blade slashed across his wrist.

'Take me away from here,' he thought longingly, but this time nothing happened, and he yelped in pain as his other wrist received the same treatment.

His reflection was now carving something in his arm, and his eyes stayed firmly shut as his hand wrote a word into his arm.

Blood poured down the limb, coupled with searing pain.

His opened his teary eyes, wiping the blood away to reveal the word 'freak' carved into his arm.

He started as a crash sounded from within the mirror, and he watched as a clown appeared by his reflection.

The clown was dressed in cheerful clothes, with colourful make-up, but the clothes were torn and bloody, the hair was matted and the make-up was smeared. The teeth were sharp and the fingers were clawed, and it leapt at his reflection, and as it fell, so did Harry, and he felt invisible claws ripping across his chest.

He screamed, punching the air as he fought what was technically nothing.

He turned his head to watch the mirror, flinching as the clown grabbed his reflections' head and smashed it into the group. His own head copied, and his world dizzied at the collision.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and then the clown and the other Harry were in front of his eyes, the clown tearing at the reflected Harry's skin, ripping open the self-inflicted cuts on his arms, and slashing his torso.

Harry felt his arms try and fight the crazed clown off, and he fought frenziedly, blinking as he tried to fight the image from his head.

He brought his hands up to his face, clawing at his eyes to try and stop the bloody images and make the pain stop.

He felt Marvolo's presence leave his mind, and everything started to shatter.

Then everything stopped completely, and he felt hands holding him down, he heard somebody crying, and his eyes snapped open, bringing him back to reality.

X

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 542