Disclaimer: If Harry Potter were mine I'd not be doing this. This is the only time I'll be posting a disclaimer for this fic, unless something new comes up. It holds true for the whole thing though.

Freedom Shall Come to Those Who Seek

Chapter 1: Smell the Blood

Harry was in a cold, dark place in someone else's mind. He was dreaming of Voldemort. No, he was Voldemort. There would have been a sick feeling in his stomach if he had been in his physical body, but as it was, even in his mind he felt queasy.

He, or rather Voldemort was standing in the middle of a raised dais, surrounded by Death Eaters. And blood.

There was blood everywhere. On the walls, the floor, the people in the room and the ceiling. Those not fortunate enough to be on the dais, which meant everyone but Voldemort, were knee deep in the red liquid. Even worse was the random body parts that floated by, an arm here, a leg there, glistening red.

Harry shuddered and kept to the shadows of Voldemort's mind. He did not want to be noticed. He was haunted by thoughts of the gruesome deaths that these people must have had, glad that he had missed that part of tonight's little gathering. However all thoughts fled when Voldemort spoke.

"Bring in the boy." There was no visible emotion in his voice but his mind was full of glee.

Harry's attention was captured by a small figure being dragged along in between two Death Eaters, near a door that was almost hidden.

Neville.

Unconscious.

Only capable of one thought, Harry watched as Voldemort played with Neville before banishing him from his sight, still alive. Harry's brain screamed. I have to help him.

To be continued.

A/N: Well since no one is likely to ever read this, let alone review (judging from my track record) I promise to dedicate this to anyone who does. That said, I'm writing this purely for my own enjoyment, as it goes. No idea how long it will wind up being.

Feel free to review. If you've gotten this far, you may as well. :D It is greatly appreciated.