Work Text:
Voldemort had been eking out a miserable existence in Albania for years. He always felt a push and a pull towards England and it sometimes felt like it was trying to tear him in half. He wanted to go to it since he knew it would help him towards resurrection, but any time his attention was even drawn in that direction, he would felt his psyche bounce off something painful before he could even turn in that direction. It came as a surprise to him when he felt the push disappear so he was finally able to leave the snake he had inhabited for the time to follow the pull.
One couldn't really call it follow when it was an irresistible suction that yanked him that way. One of his followers had finally figured out how to resurrect him and he would reward whoever it was after a very brief punishment for taking so long to manage it. The land and the sea zipped by too fast for him to take in anything except for blurs of colors, and then he was painfully slammed so hard back to life that it felt like he was still being torn apart.
"Finally shut up," someone grunted behind him, then there was another painful tear and he screamed. He felt something inside him get yanked out and something flipped him around, then there was another flash of pain in his left jaw with a loud cracking sound and then he was choking on blood. "You know better than to scream, freak. Shut up and let me finish or I'll break your other jaw and leave you in the cupboard for a few days."
It was through involuntary tears of pain that he made out the form of a giant roughly picking up his unresponsive body, then the initial painful sensation tore into him and he realized the giant was raping him.
That's Uncle Vernon, not a giant. You need to be quiet and pretend you don't exist.
Voldemort didn't have the thought process to wonder who was speaking to him since he was trying to cough out the blood he was choking on, but being violently jerked up and down made even that a struggle.
"Mmm, your body was meant for this, freak," the newly named Uncle Vernon moaned. "Pet might hate what you can do, but you are always nice and tight for your uncle after a couple days in the cupboard." Voldemort finally managed to cough out the blood caught in his lungs, but that was only because he was slammed down hard into the fat man's lap and his hips were being gripped so hard that he was pretty sure that was cracked. "Ngh, that's right. Take your uncle's cum you anal slut!"
Voldemort shuddered hard and cracked his eyes open and tried to summon his magic up, but nothing happened.
Of course nothing happened. Magic is not real.
"Unhand me," Voldemort choked out. "Your last minutes will-"
Another flash of pain on his right cheek with a second crack vibrated through his head and entire body. "Getting mouthy, boy?" the man growled, and Voldemort felt a trickle of fear. He was small, helpless, and confused, and this man currently held all the power. "Uncle is going to use you as a cock warmer until he gets hard to teach you your proper place."
If you stay quiet and pretend you don't exist, he usually throws you back in the room. You made him mad so he won't stop until Dudley gets home.
'Who are you?' Voldemort thought at the voice he could no longer ignore. 'What is happening?' Who is Dudley?'
I'm Freak. Uncle stayed home today for stress relief. Aunt Petunia is cooking lunch in the kitchen and Dudley is at school. Freaks are not allowed to go to school and Aunt Petunia will be really mad since Uncle will make our legs crooked again.
'Crooked?' Voldemort asked with sickening feeling. 'Where are we and what is the date?'
That was when the fat man began to stand, and Voldemort was forced to wrap scrawny arms around his sweaty neck so he didn't fall. The only support he was being provided was the grip on his hips that kept him connected to his tormenter, then the man was sitting on top of a very stained towel that had obviously been used many times in the past to protect the couch.
"Pet!" he bellowed. "The Freak bled on your floor. I'm not done with him so you will have to clean it up."
Uh oh, Auntie is going to be very mad. I don't know that those things are, but I'm going Mr. Voldemort. Bye.
'Going? Where?' Voldemort quickly tried to ask, but he had the sudden feeling of being alone and realized that had been the voice of whoever he had been possessing. He tried to grope around to find them and force more answers, but the only thing he could find in the body was a shard of his own soul. He had not made a human into a horcrux so it just added more questions and confusion to his mind.
"Would you like something to drink?" the 'Auntie' asked as she entered the room with a damp towel. She was very pointedly not looking at him or the man that had just assaulted the body he was now in. "There is whiskey or beer available."
"I'll take the whiskey," the uncle grunted. "Seems he forgot his last lesson already, the stupid little fuck, so this will take a while and I don't feel like pissing in him when he's already leaking blood. We're going to need the gag, too. He knows better than to scream."
Several hours later, Voldemort was literally thrown into the cupboard. Both of his hips hand been pulled out of their sockets, his right arm was broken, and he didn't want to think about what the internal damage was. There was also the broken jaw and cheek bone, but now that he was finally alone, he could properly investigate the mind.
His horcrux was completely inactive, and at first he thought it was because the body didn't have magic. When he searched himself for magic, he realized all of it was tied into keeping this body together. That comment about being nice and tight in a few days made some sickening sense now - this child had been meant to be powerful, but the muggles he was housed with kept his magic locked up through abuse. He wondered how the kid had not become an obscurus, then he recalled the 'magic is not real' comment and realized the kid had believed that so much that there had been no hate for his magic which was what allowed the parasite to grow.
He had also tried to flee the body, but the horcrux was a firm anchor that wouldn't allow it. He tried again during the two days he was left without food and water and in total darkness, but nothing he did would let him tear free of the horcrux or the body. His body had healed very rapidly even without food or water to help, but all that expenditure with nothing fueling it meant he was completely exhausted when he was pulled out on the third day.
"You stupid freak," the woman hissed as she dragged him by his left arm. "You're beginning to make my hall stink! You're nothing but a pathetic and worthless waste of space. Why haven't you died yet?!"
Voldemort didn't bother to answer - he couldn't since the gag was still strapped around his head and his body had been too weak to try to get it off. Honestly he had wondered the same exact thing while he had painfully suffered through the healing, but now that he knew they actively wanted him dead, his will to live and make all of these people suffer ignited. He was yanked out the back door then dropped on the ground, and he had began to feebly try to get the gag off when he was hit with a spray of water. He managed to catch a glimpse of the aunt with a yard hose, then his face was being hosed down and he was forced to blow air out of his nose while turning his head away. Choking with a gag in his mouth was a dead sentence, and he was going to kill these wretched people first.
Being hosed down like a filthy object was humiliating, but it wasn't the uncle's abuse so it was several magnitudes better than that first day in this body. He rolled with it to get it over with faster, and when he was on his belly, she was the one that reached down to undo the strap keeping the gag in place. He immediately began to lick the water on his arms to try and soothe his parched throat, and she hosed down his head before she threw a bottle down next to him.
"Don't miss a single spot, you useless thing," the woman sneered as she tossed the hose to the side. "You have until I'm done with the dishes, and I'll be watching your every action. One wrong move and you will be scrubbing the floors today rather than tomorrow."
He carefully sat himself up with a quiet but pained groan, then he reached out and grabbed the bottle. He had to bring it very close to his face to read it, but it was anti-flea dog shampoo. It was better than the blood and come that had dried up on his legs or the sickening stench of unwashed fat rolls and sweat from his uncle, so he opened the top and began to soap himself up.
Not missing a single spot was easy. Not clawing his skin off was hard.
Voldemort checked the body as he worked. The broken arm was tender but mended like a month had gone by rather than two days. Magic had realigned the bones and undone most of the damage, but mottled bruises under his navel indicated the internal damage was still on the mend. The sunlight felt wonderful against his bare skin, and he wondered yet again where he was and why he was even here. He moved off the muddy ground and crawled the couple feet he needed to get on cleaner grass.
He had dozed off, but as soon as he heard the back door from the aunt coming back out, he was awake, alert, and rolling over to pull himself up on all fours since she likely expected him to sit. A glance up at the sun showed that an hour or so had passed, and Voldemort knew there were rashes forming in several areas because of the dried out shampoo. The sudden shock of icy water against sunburned and tender skin nearly had him cry out in pain as he supported himself on trembling limbs, but he locked up his throat to prevent. He refused to show any weakness to these people and endured the hosing though it felt like layers of skin was being peeled off in the burned areas.
When he was dragged back in, there were newspapers laid out on the floor. He was dropped on top of them so she could close the door, and he knew he was expected to stay though she hadn't said anything.
Voldemort rolled onto his side and squinted as he tried to catch the date. He was pretty sure it said Sunday, October 30, 1988 and he wondered what day it was now and how old these papers were. His thoughts were interrupted by a kick directed at his back where the worst of the sunburn was, and since it had been unexpected, she managed to force a whimper out that he immediately swallowed back down.
"It's your own fault for making your uncle so mad, you little whore," she viciously hissed. "You just had to make him angry. Sit up, you lazy thing. You get a bit of food, then you will be scrubbing out your filthy cupboard so it stops stinking. You'll be in working condition tomorrow so don't expect any more leniency."
'A bit of food' turned out to be literal leftovers floating in boiled water in a mockery of soup. There was some partially chewed up then spat out chicken, plenty of peas, mush that looked like burnt toast, and he stopped trying to identify things because he needed to eat so his magic might replenish enough for him to do something by tomorrow. Once he had dripped out dry enough, he was dragged to the cupboard that he had been laying in then made to clean the mess with only a bucket of soapy water and an old rag.
As he slowly scrubbed, Voldemort reflected on prisoners he and his had tortured during the war. He didn't think any had been treated as badly as this body was being treated though he did make a mental note to check his ranks and terminate any that might have performed similar activities on a child. He would just need to endure another day, then the body should be healed up enough that it wouldn't need the magic to sustain it. He would apparate out to the Malfoys so Narcissa could heal this body, then he would return with Lucius and Abraxas to gather up these muggles for the dungeons. He was going to make sure they suffered horribly but couldn't die every day for however many years this body was in age and figure out how to get his own body.
Over the course of a week, Voldemort found out several things. Green eyes made him suspect this had been the prophecy child, but there were too many bruises to confirm Potter attributes in the short glimpse he managed to get. He was not allowed to wear clothes and was supposed to be unable to read or do anything except for tasks around the house. There had been powerful wards around the house that had recently shattered. He was the family's dirty little secret so nobody knew of his existence.
And the last large discovery was that these muggles knew how much abuse this body could take. He was made to teeter on the cusp of death that kept him from using magic through chores, starvation, and severe injuries that would have killed people with even a drop less of magic than this body had.
Being raped was only a once a week thing though it sometimes occurred twice a week, and it hadn't mattered if he stayed silent or not. He was tossed into the cupboard as soon as the body was too broken to use, so he was currently in the same position he had been in when all of it began. There was a fat little boy that was peripherally aware of his existence, but he was kept locked away any time the kid was at home and awake. The woman had taken her kid out to the zoo when it was his uncle's turn, and Voldemort knew these creatures were deliberately tag teaming him to keep him on the cusp of death and exhaustion at all times.
Still, Voldemort did not get where he was by giving in to the whims of others. He eked out and hoarded magic one tiny drop at a time, and after three months of torment, he estimated that he had enough to apparate. He did so the night before the uncle's day to make sure he was as strong as he was allowed to get, but even with that boost he passed out as soon as he landed on the outer edge of the wards.
"-Saint Mungo, father! This is Harry Potter!"
"Exactly, and sending him there will probably make them assume we did this, you idiot woman. Stabilize him."
"Abraxas," Voldemort hissed out. They probably were not expecting him to wake up and were trying to figure out what to do. "Fix this body." He forced his eyes open and glared up at one of the blond people hard enough to make his eyes flash red and he heard several gasps ring out. "I have returned."
That tiny bit of magic strained him enough to pass out once more. From there he was in and out of consciousness, but he was housed in a fine room that only the Malfoys and Severus came in and out of. He had been enraged that even that little bit of outside help had been summoned, but as he felt the potions do more than what Narcissa was able to do, he understood the need. He cursed the wretched muggles that had placed Harry Potter in such a desperate state to summon his wraith. It made him wonder if the boy was going to return, and if so, what Voldemort would do when he did.
Even with all of the assistance, the body was still in very poor condition when he was able to stay conscious for long periods of time. "Abraxas, I want the book I entrusted you with and a quill," he ordered during one of the man's visited. Three days had passed without any visible sign of improvement, and he was itching to get his revenge. "Summon Severus with the demand for felix felicis, a potion of all potential, restorative potions two and five, and an everlasting potion. I will also have words with him. You have done well to extract an oath of secrecy, but you always have been one of the most competent person in my ranks."
Abraxas had only made the mistake of asking him how he came to be this state once and hadn't asked again when the magic in the body blew out all of the windows in the room because of his surge of rage. They had all learned not to even hint they were curious since the magic had gone wild now that it wasn't forced to keep everything together. There was always something in the room reacting to his magic when he was awake - it would swing curtains around and pick up random objects. He slowly began to suspect that it might be the boy, and he needed to get well enough to control the magic so he could begin researching rituals to look for the best one to use.
Another full day passed, and he wrote in his diary horcrux while he hissed at it in parseltongue. He updated his horcrux on what had happened so they could form theories, and Tom Riddle was also able to do research in the restricted section of the library that had been part and parcel of the book's creation. When Severus came in with the requested potions and was followed in by Lucius, Narcissa, and Abraxas, he shook his head no.
"Only Abraxas and Severus," he commanded while he stroked the book in his lap. "There are too many delicate things to go over and they are my most trusted."
"My lord, taking all of these potions would shut that body down," Severus informed once it was the three of them and they were seated on the chairs by his bed. "It is already under a lot of strain and-"
"Enough," Voldemort cut off. "I am not an idiot, Severus. Report - does Dumbledore know I have returned?"
Rage briefly flashed in the potion master's dark eyes. Any time Dumbledore had been brought up, his spy had difficulty with his anger. It was something Voldemort could completely understand. "He is aware that the boy is missing and is discreetly searching for Harry Potter, but he is not aware that the dark mark or you has returned, my lord."
"What of the people Harry Potter had been placed with?"
"Relocated for their own safety when the protections around the house was found to be gone."
"Keep track of where they are placed, Severus. Those filthy beasts will pay dearly." He took a deep breath and began to share what he needed to share with the two men. "Harry Potter was so abused that his magic was constantly tied to keeping the internal damage and the broken bones functional enough for him to continue to do chores. My prophesized enemy was so desperate that he summoned my wraith from Albania on Halloween, and he only knew himself as 'Freak.' It took days for me to suspect whose body I was in, but it was just a guess until I apparated here. As to where he is... His spirit spoke to me very briefly on Halloween and I have not heard from him since."
"What will you do with him, my lord?" Severus asked. His body was shaking from barely suppressed anger, but that was the only sign that showed what his true feelings were. "I had been told for years that he was being brought up well loved and spoiled for all these years but I could not figure out where he had been placed."
Abraxas remained silent but observant, so Voldemort nodded at him. "I haven't decided what I will do with Harry Potter or if he even exists anymore," he coolly replied. "I do know that the boy was beaten, starved, raped, kept nude, and stored in a closet when 'not in use.' There is a reason I hate Dumbledore, but I did not suspect he could stoop so low. I suspect that the only reason this child had not become an obscurus was that he had been kept so ignorant that he had no idea he had magic at all." He moved his gaze back to Severus who was pale and looked like he wanted to be sick. "These muggles will be mine. If I can get Harry Potter back, I will not kill him. If he wishes for death, I will keep him alive using the potion of living death and keep the boy safe from himself and from others. Beyond that, I don't know what I will do with him and I don't know if I can leave this body at all. The boy's magic is powerful, and his desperation for any help or escape has firmly anchored me to it. I you pull out the potions and lay them down in front of me. Tell me everything Dumbledore is doing and what he thinks you are doing when you leave the castle."
"I'm searching for the boy, of course," Severus answered in a smooth and dark tone. He set his bag in his lap so he could begin pulling out potions to set down on top of the blankets within Voldemort's reach. "Only he and I know that Harry Potter has gone missing. The fool will try to keep anyone else from knowing he has lost the savior for as long as he can."
Voldemort picked up the golden potion of luck and the glowing blue everlasting one. He gave Severus a sharp look when he opened his mouth to protest. "Abraxas, the ministry?" He half listened to the description of the newest minister of magic as he downed both potions at the same time. The body was a horcrux so this wouldn't kill it if his and Tom's theories proved correct. Taking the everlasting potion first would have done nothing, mixing the two together in a cauldron would cancel each other out at best or end up explosive at worst, and taking the luck potion first would have been fatal to anyone else but would probably have put this body into a long term coma or made it braindead. Drinking them together was the only thing he and Tom could think of that might have a chance of success, and if Harry Potter returned, he would live his life in luck so nothing like that could ever happen again.
The confident haze that felix felicis caused settled over him after several seconds of tense waiting. He made grabby hands towards Severus' bag to demand it, and when it was passed over, he began to rummage around. "In short, the minister will be very easy to bribe. He is non-confrontational and will probably be happy to cut back on the DMLE's funds to use in the magical sports department if I suggest it to increase his popularity. The DMLE will be forced to downsize over the next couple years, and it is a process that could be hastened by strategic ambushes that will kill off the most experienced veterans."
"Again, one of my most competent people," Voldemort contentedly sighed out. He found the potion master's travel kit, pulled it out, and waited a moment for Severus to unshrink the case. "Start putting proposals together to bring in all magical children. If need be, we will use Harry Potter's fame to do so, but I would rather remain anonymous. Spin it as needing to tighten up the statute of secrecy better and suggest that the muggle parents can opt to join their child in our world or to let them go and be obliviated. Severus, put together a statistic report on child abuse in muggle households by questioning students you suspect or know are from bad homes. Only the non-magical households where one or both parents are muggles."
"Yes, my lord," Abraxas replied.
Voldemort dismissed the blond but kept Severus for an assistant as he made the base of his potion with the two restorative potions and some powdered silver. "Set this on the windowsill," he ordered the very nervous potion master that had been acting like he was expecting the cauldron to explode. "After that, I will need you to collect ingredients, Severus. First, I will need seven burning ashwinder eggs from a fiendfyre in a silver tray of phoenix ash, and a silver cauldron to transfer that base into. I want you to set it up in here. Let Dumbledore know you will be gone the whole weekend when you go to collect those items, and by the time you return, I will have a list of items we will need. The potion I am making is entirely theoretical so prepare yourself."
"Yes, my lord," Severus replied, then he left which allowed Voldemort to be alone once more.
He opened his diary to confer with Tom while he wrote out a list. Certain things were corrected and others were removed or added. The whole thing was based around the luck potion he had imbibed, and he needed to merge with the diary horcrux to stabilize the magic and perhaps find Harry Potter. Voldemort explained that it was to bring together a soul and stabilize the magic, and when he had added that one of the goals was to find the boy with the soul aspect of the ritual, Severus went from a was man looking into his own grave to a determined man willing to walk through the blitz if that was what it took. With a bit more prying, he forced the potion master to explain that his loyalties were now to the boy's safety, and since Dumbledore had worse than failed with Harry Potter, this was his only chance to start his atonement.
Voldemort knew that if he had been told that before he went through over three months of hell, he would have tortured then killed the man. However, their goals to fix the boy were wholly aligned, so he forced Severus into taking an unbreakable vow that ensured the man would never in any way work against him and would dedicate everything to Voldemort as long as Harry Potter, or his body, was kept safe, alive, and if at possible, happy. Voldemort wouldn't say the experience made him grow a heart or a fondness for the child, but it did change his goals from ruling the wizarding world to eradicating all muggles. He had a plan for that, and part of it required Harry Potter while another part required competent and sane soldiers with the loyalty or his own grim determination Abraxas and Severus had.
The potion master purchased or, in the case of 'a man's dying breath,' harvested them. Before they began the potion, he had Severus pack up everything, hand over a resignation effective immediately, then had him move in to the manor. The potion would take five days of work and he needed the man's skills in magic and brewing to complete it, and he needed someone he could trust to carry and protect him since the body was too broken to do much itself.
It was ironic how during the abuse, the magic fully focused on keeping the body together, able to do chores, and alive, but as soon as it was no longer needed to survive, it had turned into the large aura that was beginning to develop poltergeist-like qualities. He knew in his gut that it could not be allowed to take its own form. If it happened, he suspected he would not be able to leave the body, could become a squib, and definitely would not be able to find the voice that had only known itself as Freak. The magic was definitely trying to develop into something, but Voldemort didn't know what. He only knew it was still not an obscurus and only became destructive when he was enraged.
Three days into making the potion, the manor was invaded by aurors. Severus' sudden retirement had rang bells for Dumbledore, so he had arranged for a raid and was probably hoping he could find out what the potion master had learned that had made him leave. Luckily, the potion was at the step that required him to put the diary in, and Voldemort did that only seconds before the bedroom door was forced open.
"Step away from the cauldron and identify yourselves!" was the shouted order, and Snape did exactly that while Voldemort gave the aurors entering a look of terror. "Who is the boy?!"
"I'm sorry I will can go in a cupboard please don't take me to aunt and uncle!" Voldemort forced himself to quietly wail out like a child completely panicking but was too terrified to actually scream. "Don't hurt me please I can't move!"
Severus picked up on his ploy immediately. "I demand Amelia Bones before this goes any further," he commanded. "And do not touch the cauldron you embecile! Never touch a cauldron in the middle of brewing when you do not know what it is! If a single one of you ruins it, I will ensure your whole life is miserable. This is Harry Potter, and this potion might be the only thing that might save him. Get Amelia Bones here right now and keep Albus Dumbledore far, far away since he is the reason the boy is in this state. We will say nothing more until she is here to take our statements, collect our memories, and verify the truth that we are trying to save the child's life."
The director was already on the property, so they were able to get her in before the next steps of the potion needed to be continued. As Voldemort made a hesitant and tearful confession about what a bad freak he was, Severus slowly poured in the potion of all potential while he stirred with a crystal rod. He 'allowed' the nice lady to slowly calm him down as long as she didn't get within touching distance, and any time he acted distressed enough, the magic would destroy something in the room since he was actually pulling on his memories of that time period to get the sincere reactions that was needed.
When the topic of removing him to Saint Mungo came up, the bed itself exploded. One of the aurors panicked and tried to hit him with a stunning spell, but his magic lashed out and broke the man's limbs. He just huddled in his chair, ducked down, and kept his head covered while Severus put a shield around them and the cauldron, and Amelia Bones ordered two of them to take the auror to the hospital while the others were ordered out of the room and commanded to refrain from even hinting at anything that was currently happening or that Harry Potter was in the manor.
With the room no longer crowded and the 'terrified child' slowly coaxed into believing things were safe, Amelia finally got the picture of the situation. She asked for then had Snape collect memories of 'aunt' and 'uncle' after carefully explaining the procedure in as basic a way as she could to 'Harry,' then they were promised to be left alone for the next couple days as long as a healer could come in and see what they could do before an experimental potion was used.
That was fine since all of the dark and extremely questionable ingredients had been used before the point that the diary had to go in, and from here on out it was healthy ingredients like unicorn horn, bezoars, and phoenix tears. The healer that came shared the horrible results with Amelia, and a total silence ban on the whole case was then enacted. With a bit of haggling, two healers were allowed to stay to do everything they could to improve the body, but only 'Sevvy' was allowed to touch or carry him and the potion would not be disrupted.
When the brew was complete, the body was in as healthy of a state as it could be. The ashwinder eggs that had been heating the cauldron all along were placed inside as the final ingredient, then the brew was allowed to cool. As it did, the eggs absorbed the potion, and by the time it was done, there were seven boiled eggs at the bottom and the first was pulled out and offered using a pair of tongs.
Voldemort peeled off the leathery shell as he listened to Snape, Abraxas, and Lucius refuse to allow them to try and interfere, then he swallowed the egg whole. The room went quiet as they watched to see what would happen next, and Voldemort pushed himself off the arm chair to walk to the cauldron on unsteady legs himself. He began to pull out the other eggs to eat them in a similar manner, and each one fixed different ailments and the always moving magic began to settle down. After that, everything went dark.
Hi Mr. Voldemort. You are very nice. Are you my real dad?
'No, I am not. I can be, though. Will you return now?'
Will you send me back to my cupboard?
'Never. We will be sharing the same body for a little longer so I can make my own. You helped me so I helped you, and neither of us will live in that cupboard again. I swear that house will be eaten by pretty fire animals as will all of the other houses, and I will bring you to watch me do it so you know I am telling the truth. You are not a freak - you are very special and a wizard. They were monsters that stole you away, and if you come back with me, you can have toys, magic, and a happy home.'
Promise?
'I promise.'