Warning: This chapter includes the use of a cutting curse, and just violence in general. If you don't want to read, go to the end for a short summery so you don't miss anything :)
"Quickly Harry, I won't have any dawdling."
A ten year old boy with ink black hair and glasses he had only stopped wearing a few years ago quickened his pace to keep up with the long strides of his father.
The floors of Riddle manor were cold on his bare feet, having only just woken up. The legs of his pyjamas were an inch too short, and he reminded himself to ask one of the elves to fix it. He pushed his hair out of his face absently and wondered where he and his father were going in the early hours of the morning.
"What're we doing father?" Harry asked through a yawn, rubbing his eyes.
Voldemort looked back, only tugging the small boy gently by the arm, a silent reminder to keep walking. Eventually, they came to a small room Harry had never been in before. The walls were bare and white, as were the floors. It must've been lit with magic, because there were no muggle lamps creating the bright white light.
"Father what..." Harry trailed off as the door closed and he noticed they were not alone in the room.
A tiny house elf, almost swallowed by its ears stood shivering and cowering, small whimpers coming from it every so often. Harry's eyes widened when he recognised the elf.
"Dobby!" he exclaimed. Draco's house elf whom he so dearly loved.
Dobby looked up, glancing between Voldemort and Harry.
"Dobby is not knowing why he is here," he said in a small voice, "If Dobby has been a bad elf Dobby will punish himself-"
He stopped when Voldemort held up a hand, silencing him.
Harry looked to his father, "Father, why is Dobby here? Has he been a bad elf?"
Voldemort was silent for a moment, before kneeling down so he was level with Harry's face. When they were close like this, Harry's stomach jumped in excitement and pride that he could see his own features in his father's face.
"Harry, that is exactly the lesson I want you to learn today," Voldemort said softly.
Harry's brow furrowed, "What?"
"Dobby has not been a bad elf, in fact, Dobby has been an exceptional elf." The sound of Dobby exclaiming in delight could be heard, and Harry smiled. "But despite that," Voldemort went on, "he must die."
Harry's smile dropped instantly, and his stomach plummeted in dread and confusion.
"I don't understand-" Harry said, "If he's been a good elf then why-"
"That is what I want to teach you Harry," Voldemort said, cutting him off. "In the future, when you're older and more experienced, you will be performing missions for me, do you remember we discussed this?"
Harry nodded, briefly recalling a conversation between the both of them about how Harry's training would change when he turned eleven, how the simple spells, potions, and charms would morph into curses designed to kill, and kill painfully. Harry had pushed this conversation out of his mind and did not enjoy being reminded of it.
"Well when that time comes, you will have to kill people that may not have done anything wrong," Voldemort said bluntly, no hidden meanings, no covering the truth. "You have a rather unfortunate sense of empathy that will make that quite difficult. This lesson now is to teach you that no matter how good of an elf someone has been, you only listen to me."
He spoke the last part in parseltongue, a skill Harry had been extremely excited to have inherited from the blood adoption.
"But Father, what about Draco? Dobby's his elf."
Voldemort's lips hardened into a line, "Dobby is Lucius' elf, and I'm sure Lucius will have no trouble finding another one."
To Harry's horror, tears began to cloud his vision, and in a second were running down his face, hot and shameful.
"Father I don't want to kill Dobby," he blubbered, "he's my friend-"
He stopped in fright when Voldemort grasped his shoulders and held him in a painful grasp.
"That thing, is not your friend," he spat. He gripped Harry's chin and forced his face towards Dobby, who hadn't moved, but was now trembling violently, his huge eyes firmly fixed on the pristine white floor. "It is a servant designed for just that. Serving." In a flash, he was on his feet, staring down at the child as he pulled out his wand and handed it to Harry. "You will kill it right now. Diffindo will do."
Harry took his father's wand, looking down at the smooth wood with wonder, having only held it a few times before, and slowly turned to face Dobby, walking a few steps forward before stopping.
Empathetic, his father had said. He was too empathetic. Harry didn't know what that word meant, but he decided in an instant that it must be a bad thing to be. He thought back to the times his father had scowled at him whenever he brought in wounded animals, fixing their wings or small legs delicately and lovingly, or the times he let Draco boss him around because it was better than the blond getting mad. Being empathetic must be what made him do those things, Harry thought, again picturing how unhappy it made his father.
And that was it.
No matter how horrible something was, no matter how scared he was, he would never fail at pleasing his father. The man who had given him everything, who had rebirthed him out of his dirty, tainted heritage and into a life of near royalty.
Looking at Dobby-
No. Not Dobby.
Looking at the elf, he tried to only see the exterior. The disgusting cloth covering it, the hooked nose dripping mucus and the bug eyes leaking fat tears. He tried not to imagine how the elf must be feeling as he raised his father's wand and cast.
"Diffindo," he whispered, watching as the curse flew from the wand and sliced the elf's arm clean off.
Blood splattered the white walls and floor, stark and red, etched into Harry's memory forever. The elf cried out in pain and terror as Harry cast the curse again and again, cutting leg, face, and finally, neck. A crimson line against the elf's throat wept blood as it slumped to the ground, splattering into the pool already forming beneath him.
Harry didn't realise he was breathing so fast until he was being held by familiar hands. Hands on his back, hands stroking his hair. The wand clattered to the ground as Harry's father whispered to him in parseltongue.
"Such a good boy. You've done so well Harry. Such a good boy."
In an instant, Harry sat upright in bed, his wand in his hand and a curse on his lips. When it was clear that nobody was there, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, staring at the walls of the Slytherin dormitory and imagining they were white, crimson splatters decorating them like modern art.
He remembered that day, that early morning. He hadn't spoken for a week afterwards, but Voldemort hadn't cared, and wasn't surprised when Harry finally did speak. That was the day that he stopped letting Draco boss him around. It was also the day that he found an injured bird in the woods and sliced its head off instead of bringing it back to the manor.
He heard the bathroom door opening, and Draco walked out, steam trailing behind him. The blonde boy looked at Harry, confused.
"What are you still doing in bed? Usually you're ready before five."
Harry sighed, "Weird dreams."
Draco shrugged as he left his towel at the end of his bed, no doubt expecting the house elves to clean it.
"Draco," Harry blurted out.
There must've been something about his tone, because Draco turned around at once, his eyes worried.
"What?"
"Do you remember your old house elf... Dobby?"
Just saying the name was like knives scratching at Harry's throat.
Draco nodded, "I think. He was the one that disappeared right? Why?"
Harry gritted his teeth, climbing out of bed and walking to the bathroom, "No reason," he muttered and shut the door firmly behind him.
*Summary: Voldemort manipulates a ten year old Harry into killing he and Draco's elf friend Dobby, because he feels Harry is too empathetic and won't be able to kill for him when the time comes. Harry kills Dobby and the scene shifts to our Harry in modern times waking up from a dream that was the scene just described. He has a little trip down memory lane and that's about it :)*
Notes:
Heyyyyyy.
The lovely @AsleepLuna gave me this idea about Dobby and I couldn't resist adding a chapter just to give us some insight into Harry's childhood and why he is the way he is. I promise the next chapter will be diving into the whole Snape and Theo plan.