disclaimer: I am making no money on this fan fiction, I am only borrowing characters from the Harry Potter books.
Warnings- violence, non-consensual sex, implied child molestation, bdsm, hurt/comfort, quite disturbing in the first few chapters, please be warned (see Note)
HP - DM HP - LV AD - and... everyone? mostly implied
summary- Albus Dumbledore has been molesting Hogwart’s boys for decades. He’s had his eye on Harry Potter since his first year, but resisted the urge due to his assumed will against mind charms. However, Harry‘s seventh year will change that. He’ll find himself in the most terrifying situation imaginable, and a seemingly innocent scar on his forehead will play a major role. A horrid dream will unlock the memories of one Lord Voldemort, and his life will fall into turmoil as he comes to the realisation that he too had been molested when he attended Hogwarts.
Note: This story is NOT for Dumbledore fans, and of course, he and others will be quite OOC at times. I will not write any sort of detail on any character under the age of 16 that involves the nature of sex or molestation, but it may be implied. This story is not for fluff lovers, but there will be fluffy stuff. Harry and Draco are 17 in this story, in their seventh year. I honestly don’t hate Dumbledore, I just thought he’d make the perfect, well loved by everyone, deceiver, that fools the community with his personality and charm. Inspired slightly by this movie we rented called ‘Gacy’ the other night. My boyfriend said this would make a great fic, blame him!
The High Table was unusually quiet that night, especially for the start of the term feast. Most of the professors were taking cues from their Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The normally jubilant chatterer was sitting silent this eve, deep in thought. Not wanting to break his spirits, the others remained quite still, eating quietly as the students before them greeting each other and feasted on delicious foods that appeared before them.
Albus kept his eyes locked on one Harry Potter, seventh year Gryffindor. He sat between his two very best friends, laughing and prodding one another with cheerful grins on their faces. Since the day he walked into the Great Hall at age 11, the old Headmaster’s loins began to stir. How he had dreamt about controlling that body, taking him for all he was worth, anytime he wanted.
The child was undeniably luscious. Delicate and lissom, with a face most boys and girls would dream of wearing. But that wasn’t half the reason he was such a temptation. He also happened to be the one and only Boy-Who-Lived. Ah, the sheer pull of the fame was enough to make the man strike, but he knew it was dangerous.
He had sensed the power in the child the time he held the babe in his arms at age one. He was to be someone special. He reminded him very much of Riddle in so many ways. Sadly, he knew he could never have him, and shoved the thoughts away. As delicious as it was with the future Dark Lord... breaking him, making him suffer, sucking him dry... the real trick was making him forget. It had taken nearly three weeks of constant memory charms and brutal beatings before the boy who lay before him could not remember his tortures. And it truly broke his mental state, dimming him into the future he created to succumb the suppressions.
But watching the boy in front of him now, growing so quickly out of his girlish appearance compelled him. He had assumed Harry would remain innocent and small forever, but that surely was an impossibility. He would be a man within the year, and time was working against the aging old Headmaster, who’s bones became brittle, and libido slowly drifted. The lust, the wanton desire to control the Golden Boy only grew this day; clouding his thoughts, smashing the barriers he had set up to protect the child - from himself. But he could resist. This was Harry Potter, the shining light of the wizarding world. If he broke him, he’s most likely become like him... twisted, and evil.
Old Argus Filch had always wanted Harry down in his dungeons, and was bound to make it a reality. Only Albus could curb his wishes, bringing him younger flesh, sometimes forced to drink polyjuice potions containing Potter’s hair. The potion always turned a brilliant shade of forest green, and tasted like warmed honey sucked right off the honeycomb. Tasting it on the lips of their victims only created more desire for the boy, but they must resist. And resist they did.
With a great deal of persuasion, Harry finally got Hermione and Ron to agree to sneak out under the cover of his father’s invisibility cloak to raid the kitchens. They had only attended classes for less than two months, but they had already managed to get over 50 points taken away from Gryffindor, and had each received no less than two detentions. Ron and Hermione had been dating for over six months, but never left Harry out of their plans, and were more influenced by his ever-growing want to create problems anymore.
Harry had been feeling the pressures of his growing up status, and had only imagined his end was near. He had accepted that nearly a third of the wizarding world had become dark, following Voldemort now as his powers grew to new heights, and assumed his life would be cast away as soon as the power equalled out. He hadn’t, however, planned on wasting a single moment of what was left, and intended on having the time of the rest of his life.
Even spewing insults from that prat Malfoy were waved off with a flick of his wrist, and an adorable smirk. Nothing could ruin his high on life. Nothing - except for an unexpected turn of events which would lead to the downfall of the side of the light.
Slipping into the dungeons on the Hufflepuff side, the trio tread carefully down the corridors as quietly as possible. It was just past lights out, but it was a weekend, and the first trip to Hogsmeade for all, except them. They were all serving detention that day with McGonagall, who had found the three missing at bed check two days before.
“Careful, Ron. I hear someone coming,” said Harry, who stood on the front of the other two, holding the cloak closed over his chest. “It’s Filch.”
Argus walked slowly down the hall, listening closely for the voiced whispers his ears had picked up only moments before. Mrs. Norris walked at his side, seemingly glaring up at Potter as her yellow eyes locked onto his. As they closed in on the frozen trio, Ron nervously took a step back, and the heel of his shoe snagged the cloak. Suddenly Harry was standing in plain sight in front of the old man, as the cloak was pulled from his grasp.
“Potter!” hissed Argus, frowning in disgust, as Harry’s green eyes widened with fearfulness. Hermione nearly yelped, but Ron clamped his hand over her mouth, as they had not yet been discovered.
“How did you do that? Appear out of thin air - Impossible!” questioned Argus, grasping the upper arms of the small boy with his bony, decrepit fingers. He shook him in his grasp several times, but Harry remained tight lipped, refusing to speak. “You’re in for it this time, Potter. Ah.. yes, this time you’ll get what’s comin’ to ya.”
Wrenching an arm behind his back, Argus shoved the boy up against the stone wall of the corridor. Carefully looking around, he allowed a small smile to curl up on his thin, twisted lips. He leaned into Harry’s neck, dusting his hot breath against the pale flesh, so close... “You’ll be screamin’ for mercy when I’m through with ya, boy. How I’ve waited to catch ya myself, all these years. I can imagine Dumbledore’ll be quite displeased with ya, even more so now. He’ll let me have ya,”
Harry sighed with boredom, ignoring the sharp pains in his arm. He’d never give old Filch the satisfaction of knowing he might be worried about it. Ron and Hermione stood by, dumbfounded and shocked by the old caretaker’s actions, but remained hidden. He had already eyed Harry; stunning him, or ripping Harry from his hold would do nothing to stop the inevitable.
Giving the boy one further shove into the hallway, Filch released his arm. “I’ll be seein’ ya back down here real soon, Potter. Dumbledore’ll want ta have a word with ya tomorra’ mornin’,” he drawled, and hobbled away, back to his office.
Harry whirled around, glaring at seemingly empty air. “Brilliant work, Ron,” he growled.
Hermione groaned under the hand covering her mouth, and stomped down on Ron’s foot. Jerking back, Ron apologised profusely to her, and then to Harry. “Oh all the things I’ve ever done, this has got to be the worst,” he whined, kicking himself mentally with a steel-tipped boot.
“No, it’s not your fault. I made you come with me. Dumbledore’s going to strangle me, though. He warned me last week if I got into trouble one more time, I‘d be severely punished,” murmured Harry, feeling defeated. “I guess we should get back...”
Harry fretted nervously, knowing he’d get no sleep if he didn’t try and do something about it. It wasn’t particularly late yet, maybe the old Headmaster was still awake. He never minded when he visited him, he adored him. Deciding he’d best hurry, he rejected the idea of getting dressed. Seeing Dumbledore didn’t need to be formal, he usually wore his pyjamas at this time of night, as well. Tossing his invisibility cloak back over his shoulders, he quickly made his way out of the tower.
Cursing himself for forgetting any socks, he padded down the halls with his small, bare feet, feeling the cold stone chilling his toes beneath them. Soon, the large, stone gargoyle was before him, and whispering the word ‘pixie sticks’, the stairs to Dumbledore’s office appeared.
The office was pitch black. It was obvious Dumbledore wasn’t around, but a stagnant uneasiness choked the room in a thick cloud. Regretting coming up there; he turned back, and with a swish of his cloak, made his way back onto the steps.
“Is someone there?” a panicked voice whispered, and Harry stopped in his tracks. He turned around and squinted into the darkness, but it seemed to be lacking any sort of light to be able to see something.
Harry pulled his wand out, as the voice seemed upset, and was definitely not the Headmaster’s. “Who’s there?” he whispered, and waited.
“Please, help me,” the voice whispered, cracked and broken, desperate in it’s plea.
“Lumos,” said Harry, holding his wand outside his cloak. With a brilliant flash, his wand illuminated, and filled the tiny corridor he stood in with light. The office was still quite dim, but shadows began playing on the walls as he cautiously stepped closer.
“Please, hurry! He’s coming back,” the voice begged, and Harry’s eyes widened in shock as the form sprawled out over the Headmaster’s desk was revealed.
“Malfoy?” whispered Harry excitedly, looking down at the boy bent over the desk awkwardly.
Draco Malfoy was Harry’s rival from the moment they met again on the Hogwarts Express. He was larger in height than Harry, but his body type was similar. Pretty face, thin, pale, graceful. About the few differences they had was the colour of their hair and eyes, and Draco‘s features were distinctively elfish, whereas Harry‘s were softened, and cherub-like.
He was nude, and bleeding from his back. His hair was dishevelled, and he shook uncontrollably from the cold and fear of what was about to return. Seeing his wrists bound to each leg of the desk, holding him in his awkward position over the top of it, Harry cried out. “What in Merlin’s name is going on?”
Carefully setting his wand down on the desk, he threw his cloak off, letting it fall to the floor. Draco looked up at the boy, and shuddered. “Potter, please hurry, he’ll be back very soon,” he cried, trying to hold his arms steady as Harry worked over the knots.
Draco‘s pale face suddenly turned a ghastly shade of grey, and his trembling arms began to jerk violently in his restraints. “NO!”
Spinning on his heel, Harry was suddenly face to face with the crazed, old wizard. He gasped, and stammered back, unsure of what was going on. “P - professor... I - I just f - f- found him like this,” he cried, feeling his own backside collide with the desk suddenly.
“Your wand! Stun him!” screamed Draco, furiously yanking at his stronghold.
Albus crossed his arms over in front of him, and Harry realised the old man wasn’t wearing the expected dressing gown, or nightshirt he normally saw him in. He was wearing nothing but a pair of tight, black trousers. His bare chest had a very large tattoo covering the majority of it, but was mostly hidden under his long, white beard. This was certainly very odd.
“Oh, Harry, my little pet. I had really hoped it would never come to this. You, of all the children, will probably be the most difficult for memory erasure,” sighed Albus, furrowing his brow at the boy.
Harry’s mouth opened and closed several times in shock, but it was Draco who finally spoke. “He’s a rapist, Potter! He raped me!” he screamed. Harry jolted back, and reached out for his wand, believing the words being shouted at him suddenly.
“Stupefy,” said Albus, waving his wand over in Harry’s direction, and Draco cried out as Harry crumpled to the floor.
He slapped Draco‘s face with a growl, and tugged his head back with a handful of platinum hair. “Naughty boy. You don’t know how much trouble you’ve just caused me. This boy was never supposed to be a part of this! He‘s not dirty, like you. Now I’ll have to punish you both for this. How does a week in the dungeons sound?” he threatened, contorting his bearded face up in anger.
Albus levitated Harry up, and laid him on the desk in front of Draco. “Do you know how many times I’ve done this to you, Mr. Malfoy? I always love telling you this part.” he said smugly. He opened his desk drawer, as Draco prodded at Harry’s cheek with his fingers, willing him to wake up. A stinging slap across his face jerked him back, and Albus huffed at the boy’s blatant ignorance. “I asked you a question, Death Eater‘s son,”
Draco shook his head vigorously. He had no idea what the old man meant. To his knowledge, this was the first time he’d ever been raped by anyone. “More than 30 times, I believe I’ve lost count.” he boasted, drawing a length of cord from the desk drawer. “I just keep making you forget, and send you off on your wicked, little way, and you haven’t a clue in the world that I just fucked you,”
Draco cried out in disgust, dropping his forehead to the desk as his will began to wane. “Normally we have our fun in the dungeons, I just thought we’d skip that step this evening. And now this...” he waved his hand over Harry, and frowned. “If he’s anything like the other, he’s in for a rough time.”
Argus entered then, in taking the glorious sight in front of him. “Finally got tha’ Potter boy, I see. I knew it was comin’,” he hissed.
Albus smiled softly, looking over the two charming boys on his desk. Thoughts of the most foul nature ran through his head, and he nodded to himself as he made his decision. Flipping Harry over, he bound his hands behind him. He slid his legs over the side of the desk, so they hung limp in the air. He tugged his pyjama trousers down, and unbuckled his own, holding Harry in position with his hand on his back.
“You’ll want to watch this, Draco. I’m going to wake him up for it. You’ll want to watch his eyes, and then you’ll see what I see when I take you,” Harry’s face laid directly in front of his own, and Draco began sobbing as Argus came up behind him. The old Headmaster massaged his length to hardness, and positioned it over cleft of Harry’s buttocks. He then leaned in and tapped his wand on the unconscious boy’s nose.
Lord Voldemort was resting comfortably in his bed chambers, allowing a devoted servant to lay at his side. After a wonderful evening of brilliant sex, they had both collapsed in each other arms, fully exhausted. Drifting off into the lullaby of erotic ensues he had just experienced, the piercing visions that invaded his mind startled him into devastation. Flooding pictures, sensations of rape, and pain-filled screams cut into his psyche, as the images he was clearly seeing and feeling were coming directly from the eyes and ears of Harry Potter.
As if he shared his senses, he witnessed the terrified boy in front of him, being forced to watch Harry being raped. The filthy caretaker standing behind him, holding the blonde’s head in position was laughing. Voldemort could feel his pain, sense his fear running through his veins. All that would have probably pleased the old snake, if not for the stabbing memory that unblocked itself from his mind then. Harry had craned his neck to look behind him, and glared defiantly at.....
Bolting upright with a blood-curdling scream, Lord Voldemort began shaking uncontrollably where he sat. The visions had done something to him, and it was something he hadn’t recalled a memory of before. He could see himself, as a young boy about Harry‘s age, in nearly the exact position that Potter was in that very moment; Hands bound behind his back, and looking behind him, seeing Albus Dumbledore’s face contorted in ecstasy.
The nameless servant sat up quickly, and attempted to comfort the trembling Dark Lord, but Voldemort would have none of that. With long, spidery fingers, he snapped his neck with the strength of several mortal men, never wanting anyone to know he’d woken with a scream.
“Wormtail!” shouted Voldemort. He climbed from his soiled bed, and stood naked before the vile Death Eater entering his chambers. His body was still quite contemptible to look at, but had reverted somewhat with his growing powers. Within a year, perhaps, he might look human again, but for now...
“Remove this thing from my bed, and send for Lucius. I need to speak with him immediately,” he said calmly, waving a skull-white hand over the corpse. He glided across his room, and draped himself with a velvet dressing gown, and sat upon his throne, waiting for Lucius.
Covering both boys up completely with Harry’s invisibility cloak, Albus handed them over to Argus to take them down to the dungeons. Both were under the Imperius Curse, and Harry was too weakened to fight it off. Harry’s right wrist was bound to Draco’s left, with a thin, nearly invisible cord that was used as a leach to guide them off in their jumbled state.
Pulling the cloak off as they reached their final destination, they were both violently shoved into a small cell, barely clothed, and shivering from cold. “Was supposed ta memory charm ya tonight, Draco, but the old man thinks yer both too pleasin’ together ta waste on one night. We’re going ta make the two of ya get real close this week,” said Argus, clanging the cell door closed, and locking it behind him.
The curse was lifted then, and both boys sagged into the floor, sobbing quietly as they held onto each other for support.
Lucius Malfoy apparated right into the main hall of his master’s home, and dashed up to his bed chambers, as he knew it must be important. The old man rarely summoned him at night without a very good reason.
Scurrying through the door, he knelt properly in front of his master, kissing his hand and he bowed his head to him. “My Lord, you’ve sent for me?” he asked, lifting his head up to meet his master’s eyes.
“I have dreadful news to bear, Lucius. Please, take a seat beside me,” replied Voldemort.
Lucius sat quickly, crossing his legs and leaning in to hear his master’s words.
“I had a disturbing vision while I slept,” he said, his harsh, scarlet eyes drifting off into remembrance. “A vision so disturbing, it jarred a memory from my own mind...” He held up his hand as Lucius inhaled a breath to speak. “Please, this is difficult.”
He sat quietly for a moment, going over the thoughts one last time, making sure what he saw was real enough to relay it to his second in command.
“I saw two children being raped at Hogwarts this evening in a dream. Not a dream exactly... a sort of visualization,” he said softly, feeling their pain enter his body once more. He shuddered, and gulped in much needed air into his lungs, as Lucius licked his lips to try and speak.
“Children.. in Hogwarts? Who were they, do you know?” he asked nervously.
Voldemort turned to him and furrowed his brow with sadness. “In the vision... it was clearly Harry Potter... and your son,” he said.
Lucius sat back in his chair, feeling floored. “Draco?” he whispered anxiously.
Voldemort nodded to affirm his fears. “There’s more,” he said carefully, allowing Lucius to soak the first horrors in, before continuing further. Lucius finally nodded, beckoning his master to continue.
“It was as if I was looking through Potter’s eyes. I saw who the rapists were. You’re not going to believe it.” he said, and Lucius took a ragged breath into his faltering lungs.
“Tell me,” he hissed.
“It was Albus Dumbledore,” he replied, stone-faced. “Him, and that squib caretaker. Filch something.”
“My son...” murmured Lucius. “Albus Dumbledore raped my son.”
“I know this is difficult to hear, Lucius. I am sorry. I need you to do something for me, though. This is very important. Get me Severus Snape. I don’t care how. Blackmail, torture, kidnapping... just get him here, alive,” he said sternly.
Lucius tilted his head in confusion over the request. Snape was a traitor, and wanted dead... never alive. “I will do as you ask, my Lord, but if I may... can I know why?” he asked.
Voldemort nodded his head. “Because I have a feeling those two boys weren’t the only ones who were molested by that man. We’ll get your son out of there. Send word to the Headmaster that he’s requested home immediately, but make no mention of what I’ve told you. I also need you to go over your library. Bring back any books on safe recovery from memory charms. Anything that will help. Go now.”
Standing before his students at the head of the High Table, Albus sadly informed the school of poor Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy’s regrettable, and sudden bout of the Wizards Flu. He explained the illness in small terms, and that the boys had been quarantined away, and would possibly recover in about a week’s time, if they recovered at all. Everyone, including Ron and Hermione, initially believed the old wizard then. Why would their champion, the greatest wizard alive have any reason to give them doubt?
Harry hung limply from the set of chains hanging from the ceiling of the dungeon. He was blindfolded, and his toes barely scraped the stone floor beneath him. The pain from that alone was nearly unbearable. Draco stood in front of him; eyes closed, head down, sniffling through tamed sobs, as Argus commanded him to hit the boy’s face again. “Do it, Malfoy. Or I’ll get the whip back out,” he warned.
Draco gritted his teeth, and lashed out, sending a furious blow to Harry’s cheek once more. Harry yelped uncontrollably, but brought his head back to the centre quickly. Argus sat back in his overstuffed armchair, clapping his hands in excitement. How badly he had wanted to see Potter get the beating of his life, after just receiving the beating of his life from his own hand.
“I’m so sorry, Potter. I - I can‘t do this...” whispered Draco, cringing at the sight of blood dribbling down the boy‘s chin.
“Shh. Just do what he says, we’ll get through this, Malfoy. Don‘t give up,” whispered Harry, sounding a lot more confident than he surely looked.
“Merlin, that was enjoyable. Now take ‘im into yer arms and snog ‘im til I tell ya ta stop,” he demanded, standing up from his chair. Draco heaved in a few breaths, and lifted Harry’s weight off of his restraints, coaxing him to wrap his bare legs around him. They began kissing, mocking passion as Argus bellowed, wanting more drama. Draco pressed his fingers into Harry’s hips to hold him up, letting the boy’s muscles relax from the strain he’d been enduring for more than five hours in that position.
Harry hissed out into Draco’s quivering lips, feeling the caretaker’s fingers run over the torn flesh of his back. Argus silently counted the whip lashes and knife marks up in his head, wanting to top himself with Draco’s freshly healed back when Albus returned.
“Going ta have ta break the two of yas up now, I’m afraid,” said Argus, grabbing a handful of black hair with his hand, wrenching the Gryffindor’s head back behind him. He produced an old, wadded up cloth, and shoved it roughly into Harry’s mouth. “Albus says we got ta keep ‘im quiet after a beatin. Might be like Riddle, this one.” He wagged his eyebrows at Draco, and held his hands up, shaking them exaggeratedly in front of him.
Draco gaped at hearing the Dark Lord’s real name mentioned, as the insensible Argus finished knotting Harry’s gag at the nape of his neck. Harry was too dazed to hear what was said. The pain over his back alone gnawed at his senses so severely, he drifted in and out of consciousness several times at that moment.
Unlocking the cuffs around Harry’s wrists, the smaller boy sagging in Draco’s arms. Binding his hands behind his back, Argus directed Draco to place him back in the cell, and to return quickly.
Draco carried him back like a toddler; keeping his legs wrapped around his waist, holding his head over his shoulder. “What do you think he meant by that?” he whispered, resting him gently on his stomach over the tiny, rotted cot in the corner of the cell.
Harry barely managed a shrug in his waned state. Draco lifted the exhausted boy’s head from the mattress, laying it on it’s side, and brushed the tangled hair away from the Gryffindor‘s brow, “Get some rest, we’ll talk about it when I get back,”
Severus Snape walked reluctantly into the foyer of Riddle House, being prodded irritatingly by Lucius’ wand in his back. Very calm, and looking slightly arrogant; he moved at his own pace towards the withered, old snake, resting uneasily upon his throne there. “You wanted to see me, my Lord?” he asked, bowing deep, and taking a cheap swipe at Lucius as he erected himself.
“Ah, yes... my dear, sweet Severus,” mocked Voldemort, smirking over at the black-eyed potions master. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me. You never write... you never fire talk.”
Severus sighed. “I’m sorry, my Lord. There was that little matter of you putting that price on my head that kept me from returning too quickly... but here I am,” he replied smugly, holding his hands up to himself.
Voldemort waved him over, and Severus leaned in close. “I’m willing to forget all about your little disrespect problem, if you are willing to devote your services to me once more. I’m certain that once I tell you the reason, you’ll be more than happy to oblige,” he whispered, staring the man directly in the eye.
“I’m all ears, my Lord,” he replied.
Feeling the chains being pulled up so his weight was held by his wrists, Draco felt a swell of pity pore over him for Potter, who hung there for so long, never complaining. He bit down on his lower lip as the first lash cracked across his back, tearing the flesh open once more.
“Don’t wear him out too quickly, Argus...” said Dumbledore, entering the dungeon whilst unbuttoning his extravagant robes. “I want him later. Then I want him with my pet. It would be so beautiful to watch them make love.”
Dropping his head into his chest, Draco let out a deep breath and told himself he could do this. Harry said they could do this and he wasn’t giving up. Draco decided then, looking up at the old Headmaster face to face, he wouldn’t give up either.