Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3106094.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Voldemort
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Voldemort, Lucius_Malfoy, The_Weasleys
  Additional Tags:
      World_War_II, World_War_III, Survival_Horror, Obsession, Alternate
      Universe_-_Science_Fiction, Alternate_Universe_-_Dystopia, Nature_Magic,
      Alternate_History, Body_Horror, Drugs, Suicidal_Thoughts, Angst
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-01-03 Chapters: 1/? Words: 4448
****** On The Frontlines ******
by Arliene
Summary
     AU: In a dystopian society, Lord Voldemort rules the European
     continent with an iron fist. Immortality allowed him to live past the
     Third and Fourth World Wars, which established magical beings as the
     rulers of the planet. Yet, the world is collapsing, nature is
     destroying itself and resources are running out quickly. But there is
     a faint rumor of a young wizard named Harry Potter who seems to be so
     in tune with nature and magic itself, he might be the key to save the
     Earth. HP/LV Slash.
Notes
     DISCLAIMER: The following stories are based on situations and
     characters from the Harry Potter books which are created and owned by
     J. K. Rowling, and various other publishers, including, but not
     limited to Warner Bros., Inc., Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books,
     and Raincoat Books. No use other than entertainment is intended and
     no financial gain is being made. No trademark or copyright
     infringement is intended.
     A/N: Voldemort and Harry will be equals and there will be various
     references to wars, mental health issues and more. Not beta-ed.
     Warnings for this Chapter: Suicidal Ideation, Diseases, Drug Abuse.
     Weird things happening.
Chapter 1: Unpleasant Encounter
"Harry, have you done your assignments yet?" Molly Weasley called from the
kitchen. Her voice startled him slightly. The boy in question hoisted himself
upwards, halfheartedly cleaning the dirt from his robes. A Begonia petal
stubbornly clung to his trousers, but he chuckled only, brushing it off. He
would be back later anyway.
The bushes fluttered around him, noticing his abrupt departure, but he made his
way back to the house quickly without looking back.
"Will do, Molly. Sorry for the delay," he responded, closing the ancient,
wooden door behind him. He shuffled to the main room where most of the Weasleys
were congregated.
The mood was tense, to say the least, and most of them didn't know how to pass
the time until their father returned.
It was another reason why Harry had escaped to the backyard earlier. He didn't
quite know how to talk to his pseudo-family without making it awkward.
Upon entering the room, Ginny was the first to notice his presence, waving him
over. Heads turned and Harry smiled faintly at them.
"You have something on your face." The youngest Weasley member pointed at
Harry's cheek, grinning when he tried to wipe the dirt off.
"Mate, you spend too much time with those gnomes. What's up with that?" Ron
called, pushing a pawn forward on the old chessboard.
"I fell in love," Harry said dryly, waving his hand to clean himself up
wandlessly. Unlike the rest of them, he didn't even possess a wand. Didn't know
how to cast spells with one.
The twins burst out laughing, with Fred clapping him on the back so hard that
he nearly stumbled forward.
"So the rumors are true then?" George called, waggling his eyebrows
suggestively.
"Like what?"
Harry took a seat near the fireplace, trying to relax after the endless hours
that he spent digging in the dirt.
"They call you the plant seducer these days," Fred said and his eyes became
hooded. He wiggled his finger, imitating the way Harry usually talked to his
surroundings up close. Bushes, roses, even trees. His imitation was
frighteningly good.
"I'm flattered, really," Harry said, leaning back heavily against the old,
brown upholstery. Much of what the Weasleys owned was in poor condition,
although their situation was still better than normal. Most people out there
were on their own without a roof over their head. Which was quite common these
days.
"You should be. No one in this entire village can sweet-talk potatoes the way
you do," George mocked, taking a place beside him and ruffling Harry's hair.
"Watch the hair," Harry slapped the boy's hand away, smiling when they
continued mocking him for his unique ability. Their jokes worked and he noticed
both Bill and Charlie laughing along with the rest of them. For the first time
in days.
Their situation wasn't easy and he didn't really have much hope things would
get better, but moments like this were precious nonetheless.
"Harry James Potter, you still have a mountain of homework waiting for you,"
Molly suddenly called, entering the room and Harry pinched the bridge of his
nose, a bit annoyed. It was true, though. Recently, he's started to neglect
most of the assignments given to him by the Weasley matriarch and her husband.
He didn't see the point studying more magic when other, more important problems
took a toll on their family.
None of the Weasleys had a formal wizarding education and there were no schools
left to attend, since it was way too dangerous to expose children to their
current political and economic situation. So really, this homework business was
mostly just there to fill their days with meaningless tasks.
"I'll do that in a minute," he replied eventually, resigned to his fate. The
twins snickered at his misfortune.
The clock chimed loudly and with a quick look, Harry noticed that Arthur would
be back from London in about a minute.
The sound broke the relaxed atmosphere, throwing most of them right back into a
state of suspense and worry.
Right on time, Arthur Weasley burst into their room, panting heavily. Most of
the red-headed children rushed forward, greeting him quietly. Molly took the
man's rumpled coat from him, putting it away, while Arthur dispelled his
Bubble-Head charm to breathe more freely again.
People couldn't go to London without further magical protection. If you left
the designed areas and safe zones, you could risk dying of toxic air exposure
and black rain that occasionally expelled the worst of the nuclear fallouts all
over the country.
"We have a problem," Arthur told them finally, and the slight panic in his
voice indicated that this time it was even more serious than their usual
"problems." No one dared to interrupt him.
The man took a seat near the stained, somewhat broken window, and his hands
were trembling slightly.
"Arthur?" Molly stated, hesitating, and that was all it took for him to break
down completely.
"Food resources will last a year, at the most." he said in fright and Harry
tensed, his lips forming a grim line. Ginny whimpered, holding Ron's hand
tightly.
It was really bad.
"People will die of starvation. Malnutrition statistics keep rising from what
they told me at the ministry. The healers can't keep up," Arthur explained,
waving his arms in agitation.
"Did they find a solution?" Molly asked, walking over to him.
"Of course not," Arthur breathed. "It's all about keeping the public unaware. I
don't even know what the Dark Lord intends to tell them in a year, but right
now it's all being covered up by his Death Eaters." He grimaced, and the pallor
of his skin told Harry that he's been out of the safe zone for far too long.
"Maybe we should leave the country," Bill suggested, looking around for
support. There wasn't any.
Harry scoffed, unable to hide his own bitterness and anger at the situation.
"Where to? Germany? Russia? Maybe Japan? Or right, I forgot. Bubonic Plague
everywhere," he said in a sharp tone.
"Young man-" Molly shouted, but Harry didn't bother, standing up quickly to
leave the room. He didn't want to intrude, didn't want to share this grief with
the others. He needed space, time to think.
"Harry, please wait," Arthur called out desperately and something in his tone
made him stop. Something that told him there was more to this story.
"There's something else you need to know," he said faintly. Harry's shoulders
tensed.
"Why me?" he whispered, but everyone heard him clearly.
"Because it pertains to you," the man explained, making Harry turn toward him
slowly.
"They know and they asked for you," he voiced and Harry froze. "I tried keeping
your abilities a secret, but someone in this town must've said something
incriminating."
"You mean the ministry knows? All of them?" Harry questioned, alarmed.
He didn't want people to know about that. There was only so much he could do
after all.
Arthur nodded in return, confirming his worst fears. Ron looked at him
helplessly.
Yes, his abilities to speak and synchronize with his surroundings helped with
the growth of vegetables and fruit. Yes, he could feed people if he managed to
turn dead earth back to something more vital.
He could not return extinct animals back to life, so that humans could actually
eat things other than stuff directly harvested from the gardens.
And he absolutely refused to become a guinea pig for the ministry only to test
those limits of his. What good would that do?
It was useless. Their time was running out anyway and he didn't think there was
a solution to the end.
To be honest, killing himself would be far kinder at this point that waiting
for the inevitable blast. Only his loyalty to the Weasleys kept him from
reaching that point.
His life in the shadows unfortunately was about to be destroyed completely.
"He requested to see you, Harry," Arthur murmured and Harry heard the gasps
quite clearly.
Fuck.
"You mean the Dark Lord..." he began, speaking calmly, yet his mind was
screaming, his blood boiling over.
"Yes, tonight. He wants us to introduce you, and if we don't comply, he will
come to us," the man explained and there was a sadness in his tone that
revealed just how much he regretted that he couldn't protect Harry from the
outside world.
Harry briefly entertained the thought to just let the Dark Lord come to him. It
would be quite funny to force him to come to their quaint, little village of
Godric's Hollow, where his parents lay buried. Murdered by the very same man.
But he knew he couldn't make this harder for the Weasleys just out of petty
revenge against a dark wizard.
No, he needed to comply.
"I'll be there," Harry replied, hiding his nerves from the family. Before
Arthur could say more, he quickly crossed the threshold, closing the door
behind him and leaning back against it. The whispering inside the room grew and
he quickly cast a spell to shut them out. Harry closed his eyes and in the
darkness he saw nothing but death.
                                     * * *
The orphan stood in front of the old mirror, frowning at the attire he wore. It
was shabby, yet it was the best item he owned.
It shouldn't bother him. Of course, it shouldn't. Lord Voldemort's opinion of
him didn't count and Harry was actually tempted to dress in Muggle rags to
honor their allmighty Lord. The way the bastard deserved.
But he knew his appearance would be evaluated, no matter what.
It was actually quite funny. The small pureblood society of this century was
still more concerned with status and money than worldly problems; or issues
that actually should be addressed. After all, you couldn't feed your stomach
with galleons and fancy clothes.
Harry hoped those people would be the first ones to starve to death.
"Harry, are you ready," Arthur called, knocking on his door.
"Yes, let's get this over with."
Both of them left the Weasley residence in silence and Harry ignored the looks
of worry that were thrown his way. Ron's devastated expression and Ginny's hurt
one was too much to bear. He convinced himself that he would be back.
At least, he hoped so. Because otherwise there would be no one left to take
care of the garden, and no one there to put better food on the table.
Outside, he could feel the cold silently worming its way into his body, a
feeling that was almost unnatural in its sharpness. It was dark and the faint
shimmering wards that surrounded the old house kept most of the unclean air out
of the perimeter. It also helped that Harry had taken care of the gardens,
creating a lush environment for the family and for himself. Beyond the wards,
he'd have to rely on charms or his own plants which he took with him as
protection.
This time, it was a single Calla Lily in his pocket that hummed faintly, its
petals turned to him as if seeking comfort in Harry's body warmth.
It's been over three years since the last time he ventured out of the village
and he didn't really know how bad it was outside of Godric's Hollow. News
reports remained vague, but Arthur reassured him once they were inside the
ministry, it wouldn't be so bad.
He placed his hand on the man's arm as soon as they crossed the wards and they
apparated away.
Arthur was wrong, of course.
It was bad.
London looked desolate, empty of any life forms except the wizarding lowlife of
their society, hidden away in unsafe buildings or living on the street. Most of
the homeless criminals didn't survive for more than a year. Even good men and
women died lonely and forgotten, their corpses rotting away in the cold, often
covered in poisonous substances.
They walked in silence for a couple of minutes.
Deep impact craters have obliterated the roads completely and everywhere Harry
looked he saw destroyed houses, debris and no greenery. No artificial light
existed, the only sign of activity being the Ministry of Magic up ahead.
Harry and Arthur reached a safe zone, but before they could cross it, the older
wizard needed authorized access, which meant slitting his palm with magic and
letting the bloodied hand touch the shimmering barrier around the only repaired
building in miles.
It pulsed faintly and the wizard quickly ushered Harry inside, before it could
close again.
"Don't look them in the eyes," Arthur murmured, stepping forward and glancing
sideways in nervousness.
"What do you mean," Harry asked, a bit confused. He was trying to keep up with
the quickening pace.
"Ministry workers, the lower departments," Arthur replied and Harry did as
asked as soon as they entered the Atrium without much trouble. Inside, there
were dozens of wizards and witches, most of them dressed in the same,
unimpressive grey robes that turned the entire room into a sea of bleakness.
Harry's own shabby, dark red robes stood out like a bright flame in the middle
of the night. Keeping his head down, he barely noticed the others, yet most of
them walked with robotic precision, carrying out tasks of various kinds, not
paying much attention to their colleagues.
"They're on drugs," Arthur whispered, once they managed to find a somewhat
secluded spot near a stone pillar. Their meeting point.
"The newest product on the market. Called The Lost Prophecy. It keeps them
going, making them happy," the wizard explained, not sounding as if he even
believed it. Looking up, Harry watched as a witch walked forward to one of the
fireplaces in a delirious state. Her grin was wide, too unnatural and her eyes
were glassy. Her skin was peeling of in certain places, especially around her
mouth. When she turned around, looking his way, Harry averted his eyes quickly.
"Is it legal?" Harry asked, feeling out of place.
Arthur chuckled darkly. "Officially sanctioned and produced by the ministry.
Most workers can't even do without it anymore. I'm lucky I'm not forced to do
the same," he said and Harry nodded at that, gripping the man's hand tightly.
To offer some kind of comfort.
He felt sick.
They waited then more minutes before something happened. A man approached them,
parting the crowd with his mere presence and this time Harry managed to look
up, knowing instantly that this man would take him to the Dark Lord. The man
made sure not to come in physical contact with any of the lower department
officials, the boy noted wryly.
"Lucius," Arthur greeted, his voice like steel.
"Arthur, it's a pleasure to see you again," the man replied coldly, indicating
anything but, yet his eyes swept past the man as if he wasn't even there,
looking down, before finding Harry's green one's.
A shadow of a smirk crossed the man's expression. He was watching him in
genuine interest now.
"You must be young Mr. Potter," he said finally.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy," Harry replied, eyeing the man's extravagant,
silver robes that shone so brightly. They revealed a luxury he'd never seen
with his own eyes. It was nauseating.
"If you would follow me, please. The meeting will take place on the first
floor," he indicated, moving forward. Obediently, Harry stepped closer. Arthur
was about to follow them as well, but Lucius held his gloved hand up.
"You will wait here, Weasley."
"But-"
"Those are the rules and I'm not here to waste my time reminding you of them."
Arthur wanted to say something else, but Harry cocked his head to the side,
smiling warmly at him. "I will be alright," he said quietly, nodding again.
Then he turned around and followed the impatient, blond wizard to his
destination, completely missing the devastated expression on Arthur's face as
he watched the boy go.
'Alright' was such an ambiguous term.
It felt like hours passed between the time they left Arthur behind and arriving
at the Dark Lord's office. Yet the closer he came to meeting the esteemed
Leader of this whole mudball of a planet, the more his anxiety kicked in.
He wanted to be back in the gardens. His wish must've been noticed by his
companion, though. The white flower in his pocket let out a soothing hum,
calming him and he whispered his thanks, ignoring Malfoy's look of bemusement.
They passed wards after wards, ignoring various masked guards and soldiers that
were protecting the high security area. They also passed by ornate doors with
inscriptions such as 'Magic is Might' and 'For the Greater Good'. And finally
they reached the end of a single, narrow corridor decorated by a long, green
carpet. The walls were so bright, it hurt to even look at them.
But what disturbed Harry even more was the crisp, extremely clean air that
entered his lungs. His body wasn't prepared for the onslaught of sheer filtered
air that invaded him. With each step the boy took, he felt the oppressive magic
around the area caging him in, dark in nature, but working endlessly to keep
this place somewhat bearable compared to the outside world.
Unlike Harry's own magical protection, though, the air was sterile, impersonal
and devoid of distinct smell. And so very cold.
"Mr. Potter, I assume you're aware of the rules." Lucius broke the silence,
turning to him. Harry stared at the Death Eater impassively, looking for flaws
in the man's regular features, ticks that pointed at his behavior or mood.
"Bow low. Never speak unless asked to. Never look His Lordship in the eyes.
Don't turn your back on him, right?" Harry recited coldly, feeling disgust
settling down in his stomach with every word he said.
Lucius smiled, his expression one of amusement and contempt, his eyes briefly
flickering downward to the flower in his pocket that still peeked out, quiet
shy.
"You forgot one thing, boy."
"Really?" Harry mocked. A gloved hand reached out to smooth down his unruly,
black hair. The touch startled the boy.
"Don't be a brat," Malfoy reminded him, letting go of the plant whisperer.
What the fuck?
                                     * * *
"Enter", a low voice called out and Harry felt his body stiffening in
nervousness. One just didn't meet an immortal, thousand years old being every
single day, much less the ruler of the Earth.
He squared his shoulders, imitating a confidence he didn't feel and turned the
handle.
Once he entered the room, he instantly felt it. The wizard's magic pressed down
upon him, tearing into his body ruthlessly, exposing his own magic, which rose
in challenge to meet the overpowering force. He pushed it down forcefully.
Harry didn't bat an eyelash, knowing that it wasn't wise for him to let himself
react.
The heat inside the office was unnatural in contrast to the cold outside. It
was imitating a tropical climate he'd only ever read about in books. He started
to sweat and only the subtle cooling charm he cast upon himself, prevented him
from further embarrassment in front of Lord Voldemort.
To his surprise, the room was sparsely decorated, but several ancient looking
instruments, and figurines depicting lost cultures and lands hinted at the
resourcefulness and opulence of their lord. And his arrogance.
Harry bowed lowly without looking at the man, drawing his arm close to his
chest as proper etiquette dictated. Privately, he thought he must look
ridiculous playing a pureblood kid but dressed like a pauper.
"My Lord," he whispered, eyeing the carpet.
A minute ticked by, indicated by a mechanical clock that was placed to the left
near the charmed windows. Harry licked his lips that were surprisingly dry.
He didn't move, but his ears caught the faint rustling of papers, the way a
chair was pushed back and footsteps drew closer.
His poor eyesight didn't allow him to see details out of the corner of his
eyes, but he knew the Dark Lord was stepping much closer to him. Then, long
fingers reached out and an unnatural cold hand grasped his chin, forcing him to
look up. Voldemort stepped even closer than was socially acceptable.
Green eyes locked with crimson and Harry would've recoiled in horror, if he
wasn't forced to remain still.
Lord Voldemort was everything he imagined and more. Death personified, to be
more precise. His skin was extremely pale and he was bald. His slit nostrils
inhaled the humid air around them and pale lips were practically nonexistent.
He looked more snake-like than human.
None of that should have surprised him, given the fact that this person was
immortal and had lived for over a thousand years. No mere human could achieve
such a thing. But it still affected him and his eyes widened while he continued
tracing the man's unique features in fascination.
"Am I?" Voldemort asked, watching him just as intently.
"What?" Harry whispered, deliberately allowing himself to be examined by the
man instead of withdrawing.
"Your Lord? Am I your Lord?" the man asked, his voice bland.
Harry didn't even hesitate. "Of course. You are the leader of this nation and
the world. That makes you my Lord," he said.
Voldemort let go of him but remained close and there was a strange light
flickering in his eyes.
"Such lies," the man hissed and Harry's eyes narrowed. His body tensed in
preparation of an attack, but something else must've caught the Dark Lord's
attention when crimson eyes fixed on something in his robe's pocket. Of course,
Harry thought darkly.
"A Calla Lily," the Dark Lord whispered, eyeing Harry's flower curiously. "Not
a true lily and yet you seem to have cultivated one successfully," he said, but
he didn't reach out to take it from him, which was something that surprised the
younger wizard.
"Tell me, child. Are you honoring your mother with this?" And Voldemort's tone
was mocking, his thin lips curling in amusement.
"I'm surprised you even remember her name?" Harry said bitterly, turning his
head to avoid the crimson stare. Voldemort remained unmoved, though, and he
didn't acknowledge Harry's remark. Instead, the man grabbed something from his
robes' pocket, withdrawing...
an orange?
Harry stared at the object, but couldn't really make sense of it. The outer
shell looked half-rotten and there wasn't much to eat from, but nonetheless,
the Dark Lord reached out, grabbed Harry's hand and forced him to take it.
"Show me," he commanded, and with elegant steps the tall man returned to his
seat.
Instinctively, Harry knew he'd have to reveal his skills in front of the
immortal wizard. He didn't like this part one bit.
"Why should I?" he challenged, still holding onto the fruit that was barely
salvageable.
The man's voice cut through the silence without mercy. "You seem to be under
the impression that you have a choice in this matter, Mr. Potter. But I'm
afraid not," Voldemort replied calmly, staring at him.
Harry shrugged. "I don't see what you could possibly do to me in order to force
my hand. Unless you want to kill the Weasleys, of course," he remarked
casually, returning the gaze. "I wouldn't put past you," he added, knowing just
how much devastation Voldemort could cause without ever having met the man
before.
"Indeed. But it's not my intention to force you by using threats, since I can
already sense it on you, boy." Voldemort's finger glided over pale skin.
"Sense what?" Harry asked, confused.
The wizard's smile grew sharp.
"Your hopelessness. Your wish to leave this world. You don't think you have
anything left living for," the wizard said. And of course he was right, Harry
thought. There were rumors that the Dark Lord could read peoples' minds, but
Harry didn't think he's projected his feelings quite that openly.
"I can smell it on you. You've grown weary."
"Fine, I get it," the younger wizard hissed, coming closer to the Dark Lord
whose eyes were laughing at him, mocking him for what he thought must be a
weakness. Harry deposited the rotten orange on the man's desk. His white
companion gave off a small warning, but Harry soothed her worries and got to
work. If he was supposed to act like a Herbology circus clown for a private
show, he'd do it in such a way that it would leave the arrogant bastard
stunned.
Harry closed his eyes, aware that Voldemort was following his every move.
Calling upon his magic, he began to whisper, his voice gaining a sing-song
quality that was gentle and harmonic.
Despite the cooling charm, he could feel cold sweat gathering on his neck, but
he continued coaxing the life out of the fruit, contaminated by the outside
world. Usually, wizards could take care of their food resources for a limited
period of time if their gardens were located inside a safe zone. Everything
outside of it however was destroyed and no amount of magic would be able to fix
it.
I'm dying. A faint sound, a whispered voice from deep inside called to him, a
fragile soul that existed everywhere in nature, but needed encouragement to
gain more strength. 'You're not. I'm with you,' Harry said, knowing his words
wouldn't be understood by humans.
Who are you? So warm. So sweet.
Harry smiled. His fingers stroked the uneven outer shell and he continued
whispering to her. 'I'm with you. It is not your time yet.'
And with that he called upon a strand of his own magic, forcing it into the
object. His hands glowed faintly and then the warmth left him, the connection
cut.
Harry opened his eyes slowly.
Right in front of him, a perfect orange was lying innocently on the desk,
intact. It worked, as always.
He looked up.
Voldemort was staring at him, his gaze piercing through Harry as if seeking
answers. Crimson eyes were dilated.
"That was..." A dark voice, gaining a different quality. "Impressive."
Pale, lifeless hands reached out, but instead of taking the fruit, they touched
Harry's own that were still placed on the surface of the man's desk.
Harry grimaced, knowing that the things he could do would always unnerve
people. Or excite them, given the situation they were in.
"Tell me, Mr. Potter. Would you like to accompany me on my travels?" Voldemort
offered, and there was a hint of promises, of new things to come that Harry
couldn't possibly hope to decipher yet.
But the dark wizard's words also got to him and Harry smirked, knowing that
this world was doomed anyway, no matter what Voldemort might believe in his
misguided attempt to save himself.
Leading the man on for a while could be fun, though.
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