Chapter 55: Pleasure

" Dear Harry.

The healers think it's a good idea for me to write to you, try to form a relationship with you this way before we spend time with each other in person. I think they're right. I'm sorry for freaking out when you came to visit with Moony. Azkaban it-messed with my brain a lot. You know how Dementors work? They feed on happy memories, make you all depressed and stuff. The healers say that I've gotten so used to having that happen, that when I think of something happy I automatically get all sad. Seeing you, looking so much like your father-it brought back a lot of good thoughts. But the potions they've been giving me help, kind of. They're trying to retrain my mind, get me to think like a normal and responsible person again. Don't know how that's gonna work, cause I don't think I ever was exactly responsible, but you can't argue with the professionals. They're talking about moving me. They say they've got a cottage near the seaside. Like a rehabilitation program type place. Not sure how I feel about it. I could hear the waves from my cell always, so that might blow my mind. But they say I can take walks on the beach, and be outside in the sun. I like the sunshine. It reminds me that I'm free.

They've taken me on 'outings'. Went to my old house. I think I'd like to move back in there, once I'm allowed to. I hated it, growing up there. But it would give me something to do, to redecorate the place. And I need something to keep me busy. I'm not nearly ready for a job yet. And I'm rich, anyway. Don't need a job.

Tell me about yourself, why don't you?

How's Slytherin treating you? My whole family was in that house. I specifically got sorted into Gryffindor to piss them all off. It worked, I guess. I got kicked out of home eventually. Your grandparents took me in, you know. Amazing people, they were.

Moony says you've got a strong friend group, so I guess it can't be treating you that badly.

What do you like doing? What subjects are you taking?

Moony says you're top of your class in almost everything. That's your mum right there. Your dad was smart, brilliant even, but he couldn't be bothered to study more than he absolutely needed. Maybe that was my influence.

You said you have a girlfriend. How long have you been together? Should I be expecting to be a godgrandfather?

Are you gonna be going to the World Cup? Lucius could definitely get you tickets. I'd love to go, but I don't think I could handle a crowd like that yet. Maybe one day.

I read that article. The healers didn't want me to, but I did. I don't know what to tell you. I hate it when people tell me they're sorry about what I went through, but all I can think to say is that. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you. It's my fault you ended up in that place. If you hate me for that-well. I deserve it, I guess. I've always been too impulsive for my own good.

When your parents named my godfather, I swore to protect you. I failed.

I hope I'll be well enough to meet you soon.

Sirius"

Harry crumpled up the tear-stained letter. He would have to work on a reply to it at some point, but really just couldn't face it right then. Sirius definitely seemed to have improved from when Harry visited him. At that point, he had wavered from laughter to tears in seconds. Of course, he couldn't really tell the man's mental state from a letter, especially one that showed it had been worked on for as long as this one had. The number of words scratched out and rewritten certainly spoke to it having been written with care.

' Well, he's right about one thing. He did fail me'

And those little tidbits about his parents did not make Harry smile. He didn't want to see them as real people, he didn't want to come to love them. That would only lead to guilt and shame.

And that article.

It hadn't been as bad as Harry thought it would be. Skeeter hadn't gone too much into detail about Mr. Roberts and what he had done. She had hinted to it of course, and in such a way that no-one could possibly miss, but she hadn't said anything explicit. She had barely even mentioned his suicide.

Joseph though, that was a different story. She had filled up paragraphs with the things he had done, some of them even things Harry had forgotten. She had written at length about how the orphanage staff ignored it.

' How did she get them to talk about it? Veritaserum?'

However she managed, it didn't matter. What mattered was the results.

And the result was a multi-page article in Wizarding Britain's leading newspaper, one that blamed Dumbledore and vilified muggles.

The Dark Lord had been most pleased.

And he had agreed with Harry's decision to reply to Skeeter's owl with a simple 'no comment'.

And so, with Dumbledore also refusing to comment, the article had run.

And then the letters began arriving.

Over that week, Harry got something like a hundred owls from people wishing him well and ranting about how sorry they were. Amusingly enough, Weasley's mother was one of those people who felt it necessary to send him her thoughts. She sent some chocolate muffins as well as a long, rambling letter, and contrary to what he had originally thought, Harry tested them and found they weren't poisoned.

' Seems like little Ronnie couldn't tell her about me'

Most of his friends hadn't sent letters, preferring to actually speak to him in person.

Pansy had hugged him, crying about how brave he was. Pretty much everyone else tried to just ignore it, and pretend like nothing had changed.

' Of course, they all knew I didn't live in the lap of luxury'

' Crabbe and Goyle might not actually know, though. God, I can never get over how dumb they are'

Harry felt the same way as Sirius about one thing. He didn't know if he could face the crowds at the World Cup final. Lucius had managed to get them all tickets, in the top box in fact. But everyone would be looking at Harry, staring at him with eyes full of pity.

Still, though, he would have to go out in public at some point. It might as well be for something he would enjoy.

' Besides. Those muggles ruined enough of my life. I'm not gonna let them ruin any more of it. I'm going to the fucking game, and if idiots want to stare, let them!'

But, well before going to the Quidditch World Cup, Harry had some business to take care of.

The Dark Lord has promised to help him get revenge, and tonight, he would.

Lucius side-along apparated him to the Dark Lord's new headquarters.

They weren't entirely finished yet, not all the wards and protective enchantments were up. But the anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards were done, and it was unplottable and surrounded by muggle-repelling charms and wards that would let the Dark Lord know of any arrivals.

They formed from the nothingness apparition sent one through at the bottom of a hill. On the top of the hill sat the Dark Lord's manor, overlooking what Harry knew to be a muggle village.

"I still can't believe that He lives here," Harry said, looking towards the village. Lucius followed his gaze and sneered.

"And that is precisely why He chose it. No-one would ever suspect the Dark Lord of living so close to such filth"

They trudged up the hill, reaching the large doorway. It opened when Lucius touched it to his left forearm.

"How would I get in? Since I don't have the Mark?"

"If you give me a few drops of your blood, you will be able to use your blood as an identifying mark"

Harry and Lucius both bowed as the Dark Lord walked towards them.

"Lucius. As timely as ever. You may leave. You will return to collect Harry tomorrow"

Lucius bowed even deeper.

"And you will begin teaching him and your son to apparate unless you are incapable of adjusting the wards around your manor?"

"No, my lord. I will"

"Good. Harry, with me"

Harry followed the Dark Lord up the winding staircase and down a corridor.

The walls were bare. Frankly, it was the most unlived-in place Harry had ever seen.

"You were wondering, were you not, why I chose this place as my base of operations?"

"I was" Harry admitted.

"The first muggles I killed lived here," the Dark Lord said, sounding almost human, "being here, it reminds me how far I have come"

The Dark Lord stopped outside a door. "I wish you to meet one of my most faithful followers. He will be accompanying us tonight"

Before Harry could reply, the Dark Lord raised a pale fist and knocked on the door. Without waiting for a reply, he opened the door and walked into the room, with Harry behind him.

There was a wizard sitting on the bed, tongue clenched between his teeth. His straw-colored hair shook as he stood up. The chair he had been levitating fell to the ground.

"Barty. The wand continues to serve you well?"

"Yes, thank you, my lord. Almost as well as the one I originally had. But that one was snapped, of course"

"Of course" The Dark Lord murmured, as Barry's attention turned to Harry.

"Potter-"

"Relax, Barty. Harry is one of us"

Barry's face swung back to his master, his mouth half-open.

"How-"

"He saw the truth. He spent enough time with muggles to understand what wretches they are. And he performed most admirably at his initiation. Harry holds my favor, Barty"

Barty seemed to consider this for a moment, before stretching a hand out. Harry shook it.

"Barty Crouch, Jr"

' What?'

"But-I thought you-died?" Harry trailed off, face reddening.

Barty chuckled. "My parents weren't so straight and narrow when it came down to it. My mum faked being me, took my place. We faked her death. Of course, father couldn't just let me go. Kept me imprisoned at home. Till I was rescued"

He shot the Dark Lord a look of absolute adoration.

"I would leave none of my followers in such conditions. Alas, our companions in Azkaban will have to hold strong for a little longer"

"My lord? Do you have an idea of when? I would like to take part in the breakout, if I may, and-"

"The next few months. I need a wandmaker first. Our friends in Eastern Europe are working on that, even as we speak. Barty. Meet us in the entrance hall in one hour, and be prepared to leave. Harry, with me"

Harry followed the Dark Lord as he walked down the corridor, eventually entering a study. Books lined the walls and were strewn upon the table. The Dark Lord settled into a chair on one side of the table and motioned Harry to sit on the other.

"I understand that your dueling skills have progressed tremendously. Severus tells me that you would be a match for any Hogwarts student"

"I think so. I don't know how I would face up against someone like an auror, but I'm getting better"

"Good. Keep practicing, and you will improve. Perhaps I shall have Barty come over and aid in training yourself and Draco". His eyes unfocused for a few moments. "Yes. That would be useful. Barty can help you"

He focused again, eyes tearing into Harry.

"What is happening with Black?"

Harry swallowed.

"He's trying to get close to me. He will get custody, once he's emotionally stable"

"Form a relationship with him. Once I have revealed my return, Dumbledore will doubtless recreate his pathetic Order. Black will surely join. You will be able to bring in information from him"

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak about Black.

"Theodore Nott will be initiated into our ranks towards the end of the summer. Will he balk at what he has to do?"

Harry thought of Theo's expression when they had spoken about it. He remembered the mad laughter his friend had erupted in.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "He knows what he has to do, and he hasn't backed out. But he might. He thinks too much"

"Does he now?" The Dark Lord said, curling his fingers around his chin. "Perhaps a smaller crowd will be more appropriate for him"

Harry just shrugged.

"Tell me, are you capable of casting spells wordlessly?"

"I-I haven't managed till now" Harry admitted, blushing slightly.

"I want you to learn. Do it slowly. Start with spells that you can cast without even thinking, Lumos for example. Once you can consistently cast those wordlessly, move on"

Harry was still looking quite uncertain.

"Say the incantation in your mind. And focus all your will on it. Try it"

Harry held his wand, picturing it lighting up. He focused on it for a few minutes.

' Lumos!'

Nothing happened.

He stared at it, remembering dozens of times he had searched for something in the dark, how the small blue light had helped.

' Lumos!'

Still nothing.

"Focus all your will on it. I have seen you achieve far more difficult feats than this. Focus"

He did, sweat beginning to drip down his creased forehead.

' Lumos!'

The tip of his wand brightened. It was more like a glow-stick than the usual light, but it had worked!

"Well done. You will continue to work at this"

"Yes, my lord" Harry said, unable to fully keep the exuberance out of his voice.

"Good". And the Dark Lord flashed him a smile.

"Now, Harry, with regards to tonight. How are you with the use of incendio?"

Harry shifted his weight nervously.

"Good, I guess? I haven't practiced it that much, but I can make a pretty big flame"

"Good. I will modify it once you have cast it". Noticing Harry's quizzical look, he explained, "to make it burn far hotter and faster than it would otherwise. The flames should also increase in size when I do so"

"Thank you, my lord"

The Dark Lord waved a hand.

"It is the least I can do. As you so accurately pointed out, it is partially due to my actions that you were forced to live amongst such scum"

' Did-did he just apologize to me?'

"We will not be able to stay there for long once the fire has been noticed. I will take no chances of being seen"

"Of course"

"So let us make the most of the time we have. Come, Barty should be ready now"

At the bottom of a dirty street in London, sat Saint Jerome's Children's Home. The four-floor building was badly in need of a new coat of paint, and many of the windows needed to be replaced. From inside came the sounds of caretakers trying to get their charges into bed.

On the roof, one of the more adventurous teenagers still living in the Home flicked away a cigarette and turned back to the stairwell, tossing a mint in his mouth.

Saint Jerome's didn't really have neighbors. The closest building to it was an office tower, five hundred meters away. Next to that, there were houses, but Saint Jerome's sat apart from the homes.

No-one noticed when a loud crack split the night, and three strangers appeared. Had they been watching, they would have seen the tallest of the trio raise a piece of pale wood, and wave it in a series of complicated gestures.

After that, all they would have seen would have been a thick, oppressive darkness blanketing the visitors.

"Barty. Go stand by that building. Ensure that Harry and I are not disturbed. When the fire department comes, return to headquarters"

"Yes, my lord. How will I know when they come?"

Harry snorted while the Dark Lord explained the concept of a fire-engine.

"Don't rush it, Harry. You may find that this memory will warm your heart for decades to come"

At Harry's startled look, the Dark Lord chuckled softly.

"I did tell you, that burning down the orphanage I grew up in was extremely pleasurable. It is one of my favorite memories, in fact"

Harry stared at the ugly building that had been his childhood home. His home, and his prison.

As he stood there, a thousand memories crowded his mind.

Crying in the closet, as Mr. Roberts stroked his cheek.

Running down the stairs, heart pounding, as Joseph and his friends shouted insults.

Being told that he was making up stories, that none of the kids would be so mean.

Rage, utter rage, and hatred filled him until he felt he would burst.

He raised his wand, the Dark Lord mirroring his gesture.

"Incendio" he whispered.

Beside him, the Dark Lord was twisting and flicking his wand, muttering quickly. But Harry didn't have eyes for that.

He watched as the stream of fire shot from his wand, splashing against the wall of the hated place he had spent his life. He watched as the flames grew, as something began burning inside the building.

His wand grew warm in his hand, and he reluctantly ended the spell.

' There should be enough there, anyways'

Something occurred to him, and he raised his wand again, pointing at the large doors in front of the building.

"Colloportus!"

The Dark Lord smiled at him approvingly, but Harry didn't notice.

Clouds of black smoke billowed into the air. By now, the screams and the frantic banging on the door had begun.

' Burn. Burn you fucking twats'

Someone screamed, loud enough for Harry to make out their words.

"PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP! THERE ARE CHILDREN IN HERE! HELP!"

' No-one ever helped me when I begged for it. Burn. All of you, burn'

One of the second-floor windows burst outwards as a figure threw themselves through it.

It rolled on the ground, trying to douse the flames eating at its clothes, screaming as it frantically beat at itself.

Harry laughed.

It's struggling abated, and Harry caught a whiff of the pungent smoke wafting from the blackened body.

' Smells like pork' he thought, and that sent him into another round of laughter.

All he could think of, as the smell of roasting flesh filled the air and the screams slowly died down, was of the cartoon pig.

' That's all, folks! That's what you fucking get! That's all!'

The Dark Lord suddenly spun around, staring into the night. After a few seconds, Harry heard what he obviously had.

The tell-tale sounds of a siren drawing near.

There was a loud crack.

"Barty has gone. Come, take my hand. We must leave"

"But-"

"Now!"

There could be no arguing with the Dark Lord, especially not when he spoke in a tone like that. Harry took one last, longing look at the orphanage, managing to see the roof collapse.

They apparated away.

By the time the fire department and ambulances arrived, it was too late.

After nearly fifty years, Saint Jerome's Children Home was no more.

There were no survivors.

Later that night, after being praised by the Dark Lord, a happy and tired Harry took a shower.

His thoughts, as they so often did when he showered, turned to memories of his girlfriend.

As Harry stroked himself, relieving his needs, he heard the screams and smelled the burning skin once again. He laughed again, as pleasure tore him to pieces.