Twisted

Chapter Four: Found and Lost

There was a split second of hesitation. Harry’s soul was torn in two. His fate was hanging by a thread, and for that instant, as he looked into the Dark Lord’s glowing eyes, The Boy Who Lived knew he wasn’t ready to die. Not for Dumbledore, not for his friends, not for the entire world. No. Harry wanted to live.
It was the first time Voldemort had ever seen that expression on anyone other than his reflection. The features on Potter’s face were twisted into a snarl of pure hate. Even before Voldemort’s high voice began the death curse, the boy was spitting it out.
“Avada Kedavra!” Harry hissed, putting all his rage and will to survive into it. But most of all, he poured into it his utter desire for Tom Riddle’s death.
Green light spewed from his wand tip and rushed toward the taller man. There was no time to realize what was happening; the Dark Lord fell down dead, in mid-curse.
Harry fell trembling in the middle of the circle of Death Eaters. He convulsed and thrashed on the ground, his insides writhing like a pit full of snakes. The feeling grew and grew until it erupted from his lips in the form of high, malicious laughter.
The frozen Death Eaters took in a collective breath, all eyes on the cackling boy in front of them. Harry hunched over, giddy on the sense of freedom burning through his veins. It had felt good, so good to eliminate the thing that had stolen everything from him - his father, his mother, Sirius…so much more. The hot fury bubbled up again, scalding his throat.
He looked up, finally noticing the motionless Death Eaters. Voldemort hadn’t worked alone, though. Harry gnashed his teeth together and raised his wand—


“Crucio!” Harry shrieked as he woke, ripping at the thing that was binding him.

There were shouts and he could feel the movement, but there was something over his eyes obscuring his sight. He tossed and thrashed until it fell off. He snarled at the thing wrapped around him, “Diffindo!”

It ripped as it released him and he sprawled naked onto the floor.

“Shit! Is Jean-Claude on the way?”

“Jason went to get him!”

“Fuck! He’s…’

-Silencio!- Harry thought, clapping his hands over his ears. Their yells were making his pounding head feel as if it were being cleaved in two.

The man that had been yelling bobbed his mouth open and closed like a fish, his hand clawing at his throat. Another tried to speak to him, but ended with the same result.

Harry stood, feeling sick, achy, and in a very bad mood altogether. He swallowed hard and looked around, ignoring the two struggling weres. He could smell their rat-stink permeating the air as they panicked. His beast sniffed and pawed at his chest, like a dog trying to get under a fence.

He shot his hand out, the stunning spells knocking them down. They fell hard and Harry could only suppose that there was hard stone hidden under the lush carpet. It squished welcomingly beneath his toes, and Harry was sure he had never felt something so luxurious.

He was so absorbed in the carpet that when the door opened with a soft click, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Without meaning to, he took a step back. He didn’t like the feeling the man that entered gave him; that warm comfort, making him feel like he wanted to crawl to him on his hands and knees. He wanted to beg the man to touch him, accept him. He would do anything for him.

Harry shook his head violently, trying to expel the thoughts, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the man. He was beautiful, with black curls that melted into the shadowy lace of his shirt. It exposed his pale chest and a cross-shaped burn scar that sat right over his heart.

“Vampire,” Harry whispered as his head throbbed. He tried to cover his eyes; even the dim firelight was enough to send bolts of pain through his skull. He rubbed the cool backs of his hands over his forehead, trying to dull the ache.

“Are you in pain, mon petit chien?” the vampire murmured, and his voice was like a fresh breeze through his clogged brain. Involuntarily, Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Stop it!” Harry yelled, hunching over, fingers ripping at his hair. He wanted the extra pain to distract him, to erase the soothing presence in his head. It wasn’t real! Nothing like that was real. Consoling voices and soft hands only lead to more pain in the end. Ghostly wands probed his body, sending stabs of agony through his abdomen. Were those pitiful sounds coming from him?

A cold hand touched his shoulder. Harry started as if someone had wounded him. He hadn’t seen the vampire stir, and he was too shocked to move when those cold arms wrapped him up.

“It is safe here, mon chiot. No one will hurt you, I will not allow it.” Harry couldn’t escape the words, even as his body began to struggle desperately, trying to get away from the cold embrace. He was so torn between the feelings of being protected and fear that he didn’t even think to do magic. His head was in a fog, telling him to except the vampire’s offer. His beast agreed; he could feel it curling itself around the vampire’s cold power. It wanted to call him Master.

“No!” Harry shouted as he struggled, but the lace-clad arms were as hard as marble, and he had nowhere to run. He gave up fighting and panted, trying to pull his scattered thoughts together. It was harder when the vampire threaded cool fingers into his hair, caressing away the pain, murmuring softly in French.

Harry felt like someone else had control of his body; he would never melt into anyone’s arms. Especially, a strange vampire he had never met before…but it felt so right, so safe. His beast wanted to please this man. It quivered under his touch.

“What are you doing to me?” Harry breathed as his physical body trembled with the adrenaline that had nowhere to go. He was so confused and his body wouldn’t listen to him anymore. “What’s happening?”

………………………………

I entered Jean-Claude’s bedroom, Richard and Jason in tow. We all stopped and stared at the sight before us. It might have been a full minute before my brain restarted.

Jean-Claude was standing in the middle of the room with the insanely powerful—not to mention severely off-balanced—Big Nasty in his arms. He was whispering French and stroking that wild black hair, as if he was trying to calm a small child...or a wild animal. The boy was staring in our direction, but his terrified eyes were unseeing.

“What are you doing to me?” the boy—Harry Potter, whispered as his body shuddered and relaxed, like it was getting rid of some great weight. “What’s happening?”

I almost felt sorry for him. I knew what it was like to be at Jean-Claude’s mercy, though most of the time, I enjoyed it. He looked impossibly young with his tangled hair and wide eyes. I ignored the fact that he was naked; being around too many weres had broken my habit of balking at nudity.

“Mon chiot, do not worry, you are safe now.” Jean-Claude looked at Jason, who immediately stepped forward. “After a bath you will be recovered, oui? I promise.”

Jean-Claude slid his hands away from the boy, whose eyes were hollow, empty. No one was home. I didn’t know if it was part of his damaged mentality or the power I felt sliding from the vampire into him. I could almost see it wrapping around him like a blanket. He followed passively as Jason lead him into the bathroom, one hand on his shoulder.

When the door slid shut, Jean-Claude let out a long sigh.

“What the hell?” I asked. There were no other words.

“I took a gamble, ma petite; I had to see if he would respond to my call.” He turned to face us, an actual line forming between his brows as he considered the two fallen weres.

“Well, it worked right?” I asked, chewing back my protests. What the hell would he have done if it hadn’t? Would the rats wake up again?

“I am not so sure. If he had been fully aware it might have been different, I admit. Other factors also worked in my favor.” He shook his head, thoughts unfathomable with the marks closed. What other factors? I doubted he would tell me…not with a straight answer.

“So you can control him, for the most part, but is he stable? How do you know he won’t go off the deep end and do away with us all?”

“I do not, ma petite.”

Before I could snap, Richard beat me to it. “Why take this kind of risk when it’s so unnecessary? Why not just ask him to leave, you are the Master of the City.”

Ouch, there was enough mockery in that last bit to choke on. I glanced at Richard and could feel his agitation in the marks. Jean-Claude had succeeded where he had failed…again. Geez, I thought he was over this crap.

But I had to agree, why take the risk?

“Oui, mon loup, it is a great chance, but the benefits could be beyond imagining.”

“It won’t count for shit if we’re all dead,” Richard growled. I blinked a little at the rough speech, not used to hearing it from him; unless, of course, he was aiming it at me.

Jean-Claude stared straight into Richard’s eyes, the challenge evident.

“The Council is not happy with our status, Richard. We have the potential to be very powerful, but we remain in this…limbo. They will take advantage of that fact, as you have already seen. But if we have someone as powerful as Monsieur Potter on our side…”

“They may back off for awhile,” I finished, my own brow furrowing. “But he’s so unreliable. It’s like having a ticking bomb! Of course they’re not going to bug us, they’ll hope he does the dirty work for them!”

“We shall just have to try and reach him, ma petite.”

I didn’t like that answer one bit.

……………………………..

Harry stood, the cold from the marble floor slowly rising from the soles of his feet. It was similar to the chill in his chest, where the vampire’s words sat. There might have been an icy cage around his beast, but his head was slowly freeing itself from the mist. The wizard blinked several times as his thoughts began to thaw.

He heard shouts and barely concealed whispers from behind the closed door. Something flashed by him, the blond were. He looked vaguely familiar, like someone from a dream.

Listlessly, the words spilled from Harry’s mouth, “Who are you?”

The were started and banged his head on the sink. He had been digging under it, in the cupboard, for something. When he looked back at Harry it was with startling blue eyes. They seemed honest enough, but he knew how eyes could lie, so he regarded the other man warily and tried to conceal his lower half behind the towel rack. Why was he naked?

The man stood and looked at him levelly; the blue eyes seemed to be judging him. Harry shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the attention being paid to him.

“Who are you, is the better question,” the were said, and Harry saw something behind those eyes. Something that was not human. It watched him carefully.

I don’t know anymore; that sounded too cryptic—but it was the truth. Sometimes Harry didn’t recognize the person he saw in the mirror. What would Sirius say if he saw what his godson had become?

“Harry Potter,” the wizard finally whispered, his expression dismal. It was true. He knew the were was giving him a strange expression, but the boy felt the truth was deeper than the words. Who was he really? A friend? He had none. A son? His parents were dead. A person? No. He was an idea - a figurehead, created and trained so that it would know its duty. But he had even failed in that.

“Well, I don’t know what’s making you look so depressed, Harry Potter,” the were finally said, “but my name’s Jason Schuyler.”

The boy glanced up, and was shocked. The were’s face had broken into an easy grin and his hand was stuck out, ready to shake Harry’s.

“You’re not scared?” the wizard asked, his face becoming skeptical. Smiles were only another type of mask.

“You kidding?” Jason laughed. “You creep me out! But it’s kind of hard to cower when you look so pouty and adorable.”

“What?” Harry yelped, jerking back the hand he had been offering. His face felt hotter than the July sun.

Jason laughed. “Good, now that gloomy expression’s gone.”

Before he could stop it, Harry broke into a grin. It had been so long since someone had teased him. He was so busy basking in the suddenly lightened atmosphere that he didn’t notice the way Jason’s expression changed.

“Well,” the were said hurriedly, “you were ordered to have a bath. It’s best not to disappoint Jean-Claude.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said, blushing furiously again. For some reason he was suddenly aware of just how naked he was.

“Um, clothes…“ He stopped, some nagging sensation pulling at him. It made his heart start to trip like a hammer.

“You can probably borrow some of mine, but…” Harry wasn’t listening; his mind was hurriedly trying to catch up with the panic in his chest.

“Merlin’s beard,” he whispered, swaying as his knees almost gave out. His clothes. His clothes! His jeans had the Elder Wand in them!

…………………………….

“Point me,” the cloaked figure whispered. The wand spun wildly on the pale palm before shuddering to a halt. The dark robes whispered over the woodland floor. The figure stopped and picked up a tattered shirt, slightly stiff with blood and other viscous shifting fluid. It moved over to the jeans next, grabbing them as well.

Something fell out of the pocket. The figure let out a breath as it recognized the slim object. Reverently it picked it, slim fingers running along the smooth wood.

The pale sunlight barely touched the cold smile that appeared on those cracked lips.

“Careless,” those lips whispered, flashing teeth at nothing.