Author's note:
So, I'm not sure when this chapter will be uploaded- next time I have WiFi I guess-, but for now I'd just like to comment on the amount of readers. The story is past 5000 now, and past 200 votes. I'm really not sure why- I'm just starting to write stuff and I have no problems admitting I'm not very good at it- but thanks a lot to everyone.
On another note, there will be some triggers in this chapter. I didn't put in warnings, because honestly it's a little difficult to say where exactly it starts, and also it's more than half of the chapter. The triggers are mostly stuff to do with having an anxiety attack or a mental breakdown, so if you don't like that kind of stuff, I'll put a short summary of this chapter at the end so you don't have to read through the triggering stuff.
Disclaimer: I don't own the HP universe.
Enjoy!
Because he knew most, if not all secret passages through Hogwarts, Harry had no problem catching up with his fellow students on their way to Potions class. He was, in fact, one of the first ones to arrive at the classroom.
With a small smirk on his face, he leaned against the wall. None of the others dared to approach him once they arrived so he remained standing by himself, mildly amused by their apprehension.
Exactly on time, Snape came storming past them and opened his classroom with a loud bang.
Harry, mildly exasperated by his teacher's flair for dramatics, followed at a leisurely pace. With him, the rest of the class came in as well and soon the benches were filled. It was a Ravenclaw-Slytherin class, and Harry was rather looking forward to it.
Snape stood in the front of the gloomy classroom, straight-backed and with a severe look on his face. He started by asking for attendance.
'Susan Bones?'
The girl smiled nervously. 'Present.'
Snape sneered and went on with the list.
It was not long until Pansy Parkinson -present!- was called. After that, Snape let an almost unnoticeable pause fall.
'And then Hadrian Potter... our newest celebrity...'
Harry, with only a small tick in his eye, smiled serenely and replied with an affirmative answer. It seemed like his Occlumency would be a very good boon for the next hour-and-a-half.
Snape sniffed disdainfully and went on to the next person. Going through the list at a quick pace, he was done soon. Rolling up his scroll, he focused back on Harry.
'Tell me, mister Potter... What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'
Harry smirked. He'd seen that coming from miles away.
'Well sir, let me start with this. First of all, I am neither a replica of my mother -Draco snorted quietly- or my father. Thus, I know what you mean, and though I appreciate the thought, I could hardly care less. Secondly, I'm sure we discussed those precise flowers just short of a month ago.
'But I'm sure that wasn't the answer you were looking for, so the textbook would say that the two ingredients would make a drought so powerful, it is known as the "drought of the sleeping dead".'
Snape, thrown off track, blinked. Looking at the rest of the students, most of whom were openly gaping at Harry, he sniffed.
'Well?' He enquired bitingly, 'why aren't you writing this down?'
The students scrambled to write down what Harry had said. Amidst of all the furiously writing students, Harry sat straight, looking mildly challenging at Snape. The man in question glared back fiercely until Harry carelessly averted his eyes and, with a flick of his wand, showed the instructions for the potion they were supposed to make.
Harry, shaking his head lightly in both amusement and irritation, got up to get the ingredients for him and his partner Draco.
Knowing the potion by heart already, Harry had to seriously restrain himself from being too obvious in his knowledge. He decided to let Draco do most of the work, only cutting in where he deemed necessary.
After a good hour they had a decent, if not a bit syrupy, potion ready to be bottled up. Refraining from making any more comments to Snape, Harry merely poured the substance in the designated bottles and handed it in. Even though it didn't seem so, he did know when to stop.
Snape, knowing it was Draco's potion as well as Harry's, grudgingly accepted it and let them go.
Outside the classroom, Harry exhaled quietly. That had gone better than he had expected. Also, since they had no classes anymore until dinner, Harry could easily claim wanting some privacy and attend a meeting Voldemort had asked for under the disguise of Elias.
Saying his goodbyes to Draco, who had been walking with him to the Slytherin common room, Harry easily slipped through the maze of hallways in the dungeons. As he remembered very well the times he had been here in his previous life, Harry walked towards a specific secret passage way leading to the greenhouses. From there, it was child's play to slip past the few students hanging around and through the secret passage leading to Hogsmeade.
Dawning his glamours on his way out, he made quick work of feeling where Hogwarts' wards ended, and Apparating to a few random places throughout London. If anyone was trying to track him down, they would have a hard time doing so. After all, Elias and Harry mustn't ever be connected like that.
After one last trip to the Ministry atrium, Elias finally popped through to the foyer of Voldemort's admittedly very, very nice headquarters. He mockingly wondered if that was what might have given them the little push to victory the first time.
Harry shuddered, momentarily overcome with memories and the emotions attached to them. Waiting for his episode to end, he stood very still. When it became evident that this would not be a quick matter of simply using a little Occlumency, he rushed to an abandoned alcove. He fell to his knees.
No, no, no! Now was not the time! Of any times he could have an actual breakdown, this was just about the worst time to experience one.
He retreated to his mindscape as fast as he could. Mentally shivering a bit at the overwhelming sensations he felt, he paid no heed to the turmoil his mind was going through. Ignoring the mess he saw forming with all the traumatic memories piling up over each other, Elias' self-preservation kicked in.
Firstly, he reaffirmed the glamours on his body. If everything else failed, at least his identity would be secure.
Secondly, he ruthlessly batted away the memories, back into their metaphorical cages. Meanwhile, he erected his biggest, strongest shield right in the front of his mind. At the same time, he tried to bundle up his emotions. Pushing them away as far as he could, he finally focused back on his body.
It was shivering and spasming uncontrollably. Elias felt cold sweat in the back of his neck and on his back.
Elias himself, having successfully buried his entire sense of emotion and feeling behind a vast wall of cold nothingness, felt nothing. He merely locked his limbs and, after the worst of his trembling ceased, stood up.
His movements sluggish and his mind a mere shell of what it could be, he absently cast a scourify and then a tempus. He was late. He supposed that normally he would have maybe sighed with annoyance or huffed in exasperation, but he didn't feel anything, and merely walked quicker towards the main meeting room.
His heels clicked on the polished wooden floor as he sped to the room he was supposed to be in. Pushing the doors open with a little whiff of magic, he strode inside. Ignoring the silence that had fallen, he walked over to an empty spot and sat. Back straight and shoulders pushed backwards, he surveyed the table with cold eyes.
Lucius, who sat opposite Elias, shivered. Those eyes... should- could not possibly belong to a human. They were empty, void of emotion or even life. Even his Lord's eyes had more life to them, and he thought he'd never be able to find any human more inhumane than his Lord.
Voldemort himself, after overcoming the brief shock that had taken hold of him, narrowed his own eyes. The only time he'd ever seen eyes like that was the times when he'd looked in the mirror, only hours after making a Horcrux.
'You are late, mister Riddle.'
Elias focused his attention on Voldemort. 'Indeed.'
There was a moment's silence. Lucius coughed.
'Why are you late?' He questioned, trying to stay polite as he stared at the unnerving appearance of Elias.
'I was delayed.' Elias picked up the glass of water in front of him, paying no attention to the slight trembling of his fingers and the jerky movements of his arm. He took a sip.
'So,' he started, staring at Voldemort, 'you wanted to speak to me?'
Voldemort stared back, thinking. Eventually, with his elbows on table and his fingers steeped, he exhaled softly.
'Elias,' he began with an uncharacteristically soft, but still threatening tone, 'what did you do?'
Elias merely raised an eyebrow.
'I don't know what you are talking about.'
Voldemort narrowed his eyes.
'Elias.'
Elias didn't react.
'Voldemort. I repeat, what did you want to talk about?'
Voldemort tensed and glared at Elias in warning, not accustomed to being defied.
Now normally, Elias would have had alarm bells ringing in his head by now and would have backed down. Now however, his emotions were so locked under that he didn't even pick up on the nonverbal warning Voldemort was giving him.
'You know,' he began, 'if you don't walk to talk, I will just depart now. If you are just going to waste my time...'
Voldemort snapped. In an instant, he was standing. Wand already out, he cast a crucio within less than half a second.
Again, normally Elias would have just ducked it and backed down. This were no normal circumstances though, and his sluggish body and mind were not capable of cooperating in time to duck.
As Elias had known long before he had attempted to do the quick damage-control he had done in the hallway, the state of mind he was in was not exceptionally useful when making important decisions regarding his health.
So, whilst the rest of him was already destroying itself, plagued by memories of a past long gone, his conscious front simply Occluded the pain from the crucio away. Directly into his already weak mind. His Occlumency shields buckled.
From the outside, his reaction to the curse was quite strange.
At first, the only reaction he seemed to have to the incredibly painful curse was a mere blink of the eyes. That was when Voldemort suspected Elias might have just sent a clone- a possible, but terribly difficult and dark feat of magic.
Then, for only a split second, Elias' face showed anguish so severe that it couldn't possibly be from just the curse, however painful that was. Even Voldemort was so shaken as to abruptly stop the curse- he had never seen Elias loose his mask.
But half a second later, Elias' face was cleared back up again, the only evidence left of his loss of composure his slightly reddened eyes. Elias, without making a sound, slowly bowed his head to the table. His hands flat on the smooth surface, he lowered himself down until his forehead touched the cool wood.
He inhaled deeply, keeping the air in his lungs for a long time before breathing it out through his nostrils. His fingers were white at the tips and his arms quivered, proving the pressure he was applying to the table. The rest of the table looked on silently, waiting with various levels of worry for the outburst that was sure to come.
Elias gulped in another deep lungful of air.
'Circe!' He whispered under his breath.
Standing suddenly, his chair fell backwards. He searched for Voldemort with wild eyes as his breathing quickened.
'I- I have to go. I can't-'
'You, mister Riddle, are going nowhere.' Voldemort interrupted, 'You are a danger to yourself, me, and the wizarding world as a whole. Also-' he carefully laid his wand in front of himself on the table '- you are absolutely defenseless. I personally think a night of rest would do you good. We will talk tomorrow.'
With that, Voldemort simply cast a stupify on Elias and asked two Death Eaters to escort him into the dungeons, to their best-secured cell.
It was a test, of sorts. Of course Voldemort though it was important to give Elias some time to regroup himself, but he also wondered how the man would take being locked up, and what exactly would happen tomorrow when they would talk. For once, Elias would not be able to simple slip out of their conversations. He allowed a slightly malicious smirk appear on his face.
Meanwhile, Elias was unceremoniously dumped into a heavy-duty, security-loaded cell. The two lower-tier Death Eaters lifted the stupify just as they closed the door, locking Elias in. As they walked away, the screaming started.
Not looking back, they quickly made their way to the surface, leaving the tortured screams behind them as echoes.
Short summary for anyone who gets triggered by descriptions of mental breakdowns and anxiety:
Harry has his first potions class and annoys Snape to death. He finishes early and, shaking off Draco, goes to meet Voldy as Elias. There, he gets a mental breakdown/anxiety attack and fails to push it away using Occlumency. Voldy notices and decides it's a good idea to lock Elias up for the night and talk to him the next day. Elias is in for a hard night...
So, there you go. I hope the whole thing with working around triggers didn't bother you too much, but if that is the case- I'm really not very sorry. Inclusion is important. Anyways, I do hope you enjoyed the chapter and as always please don't forget to vote, comment, something like that.
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