Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Duty Bound ❯ The Tank ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I DO NOT Own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. Think about it… if I owned them, would I be here?
Summary: All aboard the Hogwarts Express! Everyone was coming back for sixth year… or so they thought. One of their number is missing, and it is up to the most unlikely person in the world to find him. But what happens when he has to be pulled from his own mind?
HP/DM. There will be ROMANCE! A notice will appear at the beginning of the chapter above the story title if there are lemons in that chapter.

Duty Bound
Chapter One: The Tank

Blue. The world had gone blue. All Harry could see were blue people, blue machines, blue lights; blue everything. His emerald green eyes held pain and fear as he found that he couldn’t move his arms or legs. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t even move his head. Looking out, he realized that the people weren’t permanently blue; there was just a lighting that made them look blue. He went to sigh in relief when he found that there was a mask pumping oxygen to him over his mouth and nose. He began to panic when he managed to look at his shoulders and notice that he was shirtless. Looking down slightly, he found that his head was elevated above his body, revealing that he was pant-less as well. There was a strange apparatus over where his underwear would be, hiding his most secret body parts from view. Looking out of the tank, panicking more and more as each second went by, he noticed strange, blurry wizards looking up at him in shock. One raced out of the room as the others scrambled around getting blurry papers together.
It’s blurry because you have no glasses, he thought.
His eyes and head moved as far as they were allowed to see as much as he could. The container that he was in looked round, and appeared to have some sort of liquid inside it. He had heard of Muggle cryogenics before and he began to wonder if he was in the future. Then, out of the shadows stepped Voldemort. He looked like someone else, but he was definitely Voldemort, alright, since Harry’s scar burned even inside the soothing liquid.
“Harry, Harry, Harry. You got pretty badly beat up over the summer, so I simply had to help you recover. Then I decided that maybe I should keep you here as a pet. Perhaps you will see the truth and purpose behind my actions,” he said in that liquid honey voice of his.
Harry tried to yell and scream but found that his vocals were cut off before they were even out of his throat. His throat itself hurt like hell. He struggled against the bonds, fighting to get at Voldemort; to kill the man who had taken so much away from him but found that the golden chains holding him in place tightened with every move he made. Voldemort smiled before turning to a nearby assistant. As the assistant turned to his panel, the chains slackened, leaving him a little freer to move.
“For now, Harry.”

“Ron! Have you seen Harry?” Hermione asked softly as she entered their compartment.
“Nope,” Ron replied, concern for his friend filling his face.
They were back on the train again, headed for their sixth year at Hogwarts. Harry was supposed to come to the Weasley’s half way through the summer, but he had never shown up. Dumbledore had told them that Harry had prior obligations and couldn’t make it, but there was an air of worry in his voice that couldn’t be ignored. All summer, Ron and Hermione had diligently waited for him to show up, but as every date arrived, Dumbledore once again came to tell them that he was busy; each time the worry became more and more prominent. The last time had had all of the Weasley’s who were still in touch and Hermione shaking with fear. Dumbledore had finally revealed that Harry was not at home; that no one knew where he was. All they knew was that Snape had told them that Voldemort had somehow gotten his hands on Harry and was keeping him alive to toy with at his leisure.
The train, while it had once been a gateway to freedom, was now a ride to tell. A grueling six hour ride throughout which they knew they would relive all their memories of Harry from all six years past. Everything from little, excited, can’t-stop-bouncing-up-and-down-in-his-seat Harry Potter, scared eleven year old who just found out he was magical to scared, despondent, all-around-broken Harry Potter who boarded the train last year with a heavy heart and tears in his eyes.
“What? No Potty this year, Weasel?” Draco’s sneering voice cut through the pain.
“No, Draco. Harry’s been missing for half the summer,” Ron replied, all the fight gone out of him. He turned his blue eyes upward and watched Draco Malfoy lose his balance and blanch
“Jesus…” Draco whispered as he plunked down next to Hermione.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, concerned for her enemy despite everything. It was, after all, her nature to care.
“I… I didn’t believe him… or I would’ve told Severus sooner… Harry’s been captured…” Draco whispered softly.
“What do you know?” Ron growled, the promise of information too much for his already over taxed, over worked, underappreciated brain.
“Only that he’s being held in a lab about five miles from Hogsmead, so the Dark Lord can force him to watch as he destroys Hogwarts when his plan goes into effect,” Draco said softly, concerned for Harry.
“I thought you hated us…” Ron told him. “Why are you helping us?”
“Never. I was just... jealous I guess. You… You guys are so happy despite the imperfections in your life. I have all the money, power, and fame I could ever want and… I never see my father; I’m probably going to end up in an arranged marriage with a girl I don’t even know; my father will probably force me to work for the Ministry to Voldemort who knows which; I’ll never get to do anything I want,” Draco revealed.
“Shit,” Ron whispered.
“Well… we have our friends, and that’s what makes us happy. It’s not because we have Harry “Bloody Famous” Potter in our pocket. It’s because we have a friend named Harry who’s fiercely loyal to us, no matter how badly we fuck up,” Hermione replied.
“Maybe you should’ve tried to get to know us before you started torturing us,” Ron said bitterly.
“I… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have intruded…”
“No, stay. I didn’t mean it like that, mate,” Ron said quickly.
“I… I shouldn’t intrude, though,” Draco said as he got up to leave.
“You’ve brought us a step closer to Harry. That’s more than anyone else who has intruded has ever done. So you have earned the right to stay,” Hermione said, pulling him down by his robes.
Draco, shocked, fell back down beside Hermione. His steel grey eyes drifted out of focus as he remembered all he’d done so far to fuck things up. His words on the train to Harry, made in bitter haste against Ron; his Seeker position on the House team in second year, despite the fact that he hadn’t earned it; the killing of Buckbeak in third year; the Potter Stinks badges from fourth; joining the Inquisitorial Squad last year; all such spectacular failed attempts at impressing Harry; instead, what he did appeared to make him sick.
And Draco found he couldn’t blame him.

Bitterly, Harry thought about his friends on the Hogwarts Express. There was so much he wanted to say to them before Voldemort killed him, but now he would never get the chance. He wanted to tell Draco that he’d never really hated him. He’d hated himself more than anything. He’d fallen in love with someone unobtainable, and that pissed him off. He wanted to tell Hermione that she was the best Muggle-born in the world, and he would never, ever regret having met her on the train that day. He wanted to tell Ron that he was the closest thing to a brother he’d ever had. He wanted to tell Neville that he should never let anything hold him back; to go for the gold or die trying. He wanted to tell Luna that she would make a great writer and a great wife to someone someday. He wanted to tell Ginny that she was beautiful, even if Harry didn’t love her like that. He wanted to tell Dumbledore that he was sorry for breaking up his office last year and eavesdropping and jumping into a bowl full of his memories and so much more that he couldn’t even remember. He wanted to tell Snape that he hated his guts more than anything else in the world. There was so much left that he’d never be able to accomplish now because part of him knew that he’d never get out of the tank. For that was what it was, a containment tank capable of holding a small, angry elephant for thirty-six years.
He hated Voldemort more than anything. He hated him because he had taken so much away from him, but he also pitied him, because he’d never known love and compassion like everyone else. He wished he could show him the love and compassion, but his chance was lost. With the Horcruxes, there was no chance of him being able to reach the boy inside of him; the boy called Tom Riddle.

Despite Harry’s disappearance, everything went on pretty close to normal at Hogwarts. The only difference was Draco Malfoy and his Slytherins were no longer attacking Ron and Hermione every chance they got. Draco, Ron, and Hermione spent all their free time locked away in the library, looking up maps and books on the areas within a five mile radius of Hogsmead. They put their heads together and made a list of every probable location where Harry could be located. It was several rolls of parchment long; far too long for the Order to investigate before it was too late. As September turned to October, they buried themselves in the books, deleting multiple locations on the list until they got it down to a reasonable length of about a half a roll of parchment. By October 27th they were read. They raced up to Dumbledore’s office with it to find Snape and Dumbledore deep in conversation.
“Dumbledore, I implore you to see reason. It’s not normal for a Slytherin and two Gryffindors to hang around each other this much. They’re thinking of going after Potter!” Snape’s dark voice growled.
“Actually, we were making a list,” Hermione interrupted.
Both Professors turned to look at the three students in the doorway. Their eyes skimmed from each individual to the next, Snape trying to figure out what each was thinking. The darker, more sinister professor found himself blocked on all three accounts by brick walls made out of lead bricks. Never before had the man been met with such strong resistance and he’d never expected it out of Draco, let alone the other two. He was so enraptured by the juicy mystery that he almost missed Draco’s next words.
“And why wouldn’t it be normal for three friends to hang out together?” Draco asked.
“Never mind; what’s this about a list?” Dumbledore asked.
“We compiled a list of all the probable locations that Harry could be using Draco’s knowledge of him being within a five mile radius of Hogsmead. At first it was way too long, but we shortened it to about a half a roll of parchment after revising it a little,” Hermione explained as she began to hand over the two rolls of parchment with all the locations on it. Only the places with an X beside them were to be checked, she would later explain.
“Knowing you research habits, I’d imagine that this list is very thorough,” Snape sneered as he attempted to snatch the parchment.
Dumbledore, although many years older, was by no means an old man; he grabbed it first. Unrolling and looking at both scrolls, he nodded every few items down and smiled at a few.
“I believe, we may have come one giant step closer to finding our mislaid Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said with a smile.