I know, another story. I've noticed that there is no Harry Potter and Deltora Quest crossovers, which I found disappointing, so I'm writing my own. Deltora Quest is among my favourite stories to read and I was so excited when I noticed that they had made an anime of it. I haven't seen all of it but it did get me in the mood to write this up. None of my other stories are abandoned and in regards to HP:CO all I need to do is merge my paragraphs together. I will update it eventually.

Anyway, let me know what you think of this!


Implied torture, no details but it is there



"blah" speaking out loud

blah thoughts

Deltora's Protector

Chapter 1 – The Island

It was a place where not even the bravest souls would venture. Completely inaccessible to the outside world except for the scattering of windows high up in the air. The very sight of the place could cause a grown man to run in fear for it was cold, dark, and reeked of death. Screams could be heard by passing sailors, but the treacherous rocks, shallows and waves prevented any help from coming. Aircraft would not survive in this part of the world, for whatever was seen above, was never seen again.

It was upon this island, in the middle of no where, surrounded by a vast ocean, that the worst Dark Lord of the century had made his prison. It wasn't Azkaban; many of his prisoners may have liked to go there for a holiday at some point in time, but then again, many of his prisoners didn't last long in his care.

The longest surviving prisoner was a young man, he had been there for four months, a record the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's henchmen, were keeping track of. The young man, whose very name had once sent the Death Eaters into a rage of mindless violence, had become a shell of the man he used to be. His once vibrant black hair, which had stuck up in any and every directions, was limp and dirty across his pale face. His skin was just as pale as his face for he hadn't seen proper sunlight for so long, and the darkness had become his only haven. His eyes were always closed, they never opened anymore, but beneath his eyelids were emerald eyes, dull and lifeless.

The young man couldn't have been more than fifteen years old, but his appearance had him looking much younger. Lack of food and proper hygiene had him looking closer to the age of twelve, a very much abused twelve year old. There wasn't a clean bit of skin on him, but through the patches of dirt, scars and blood, one could faintly recognise the paleness of the flesh. His clothing hung off his skinny frame as rags. It may have been four months of absolute torture for him, but he had managed to retain the use of his clothes, not that he cared about it anymore.

His name was Harry James Potter.

He had just reached the end of his Forth Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Well, not quite the end, more like at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. He was surprised that he was still alive; especially with the manner he was…retrieved.

Despite what his friends had thought of him, Harry was not unintelligent. In fact, the second the portkey had pulled him and Cedric Diggory away from the safety of the school and into the graveyard, Harry had immediately figured out that they were in trouble and needed to get back to the school. The two of them had dashed to the Cup, but while Cedric had grabbed it, a violent red curse had hit Harry in the back, preventing him from leaving the graveyard until the time was right. The last thing Cedric heard from Harry was his scream of sheer agony, and then he was gone.

Limp on the ground, his nerve endings on fire, Harry was dragged to a certain tomb and restrained with magically conjured rope. He then lay witness to the resurrection of the most fear Dark Lord anyone had ever known…Lord Voldemort.

It was mere luck that prevented Harry from dying that day four months ago, though many wouldn't call it that. He had been on the ground, drained from the brief duel and exposure to the painful Cruciatus Curse, on the verge of dying, and then Lord Voldemort changed his mind.

A portkey later and he was the most important prisoner on the Island.

The door slowly sung open and flickers of light assaulted Harry's closed eyelids. He didn't move for he lacked the energy and the will. Hands grabbed his weak and frail body and began dragging him out of the door. He was well used to this, and had even memorised the various passageways that led to hell and even to where the windows were that could lead him to his escape. The Death Eaters had stopped blindfolding him when they realised that his eyes were almost glued shut from all the blood and dirt on his face.

Harry could even identify the various Death Eaters who came to visit him. Some had heavy footfalls, some had light, there were those with a quick pace and then those who walked slowly…each Death Eater had their signature and Harry was able to recognise them that way. The one leading him now, though, was his former potions professor, Severus Snape. There was reluctance in his movements and occasionally a limp from where Voldemort had attacked him.

Up ahead were two more Death Eaters, Crabbe and Goyle, and they were guarding the so-called Throne Room. Harry knew that this was where Voldemort liked to torture people; he didn't like to get his robes dirty by walking though the dungeon corridors. Snape continued to drag him across the floor, more than likely creating more dirt streaks as Harry couldn't remember the last time he had had a shower or a bath.

When he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, Harry knew that they had arrived at their final destination.

I wonder if I will die toady, Harry thought, as he often did when he was in the Throne Room. He still hadn't moved once of his own accord, and he had no intention of doing so, despite how uncomfortable the floor was and how his broken arm was pressed underneath his body.

"Giving up so soon Harry?" came the voice of his tormentor. "Why, it's only been four months!"

So it's October then, Harry thought. How close to Halloween are we?

"You'll be with your dear mudblood mother soon Harry, maybe you might even see her today."

With that the pleasantries were over. Pain washed over his already pain-filled body as Voldemort used him to release stress from whatever problems he had had that day, and once he was done he allowed his Death Eaters to participate. Weeks ago Harry had lost his voice from screaming and a well placed cutting curse. He doubted that he would ever be able to speak again, but then again, he doubted that he would ever see anything beyond the walls of the Island Prison.

The pain disappeared as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Harry? Talk to me, come on Harry, you have to wake up."

The persistent voice echoed softly in the dark cell. Harry knew where it was coming from. Two weeks ago Voldemort had captured the Longbottom Heir, Neville Longbottom, and good friend of Harry's. He hadn't been tortured as much, though the laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange often drifted up the corridor once she was done. Many thought that it was a miracle Neville was still sane.

Harry moved his good arm in front of him to drag his broken body across the floor to the wall. There was a small hole through the brickwork that allowed the two to communicate. How Neville had known that Harry was in the cell next to him he still hadn't figured out. Harry had lost his voice a few weeks before Neville turned up, nevertheless, Harry was grateful for the company and that is the only reason he continuously pulled his abused body across the floor. He found the hole by touch alone and slipped his hand in, hiding what he was doing by curling his body around the hole. He felt a large hand wrap around his own small one and then he relaxed.

"You took a while to answer me this time Harry," Neville said with concern through the wall. "Bastard must have been angry today."

Harry drew his finger lengthways across Neville's palm from thumb to pinky, signifying 'no'. They had come up with the method of communication when Neville suggested it. They needed to know how the other was.

"He was happy?" Neville asked. Harry altered the direction of his finger so that it went from Neville's wrist towards his fingertip, which meant 'yes'.

"Bastard," Neville growled. "We have got to get you out of here. The fact that you're still alive has caused discussion amongst the Death Eaters. You know the only other prisoner to last a long time in here was back during Tom's former reign, and he only lasted six weeks."

Neville had started to call the Dark Lord by his former name when Harry had spelt it out for him. Like Hermione had always said, "fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself". Harry squeezed Neville's hand, signifying 'I know' and allowed his hand to go limp. Neville tightened his grip so as to keep Harry in the land of the living, and also to keep a measure of his pulse.

Harry had no idea how long they stayed like that, his sense of time had become warped, and without his sight he couldn't even see where the sun was, or what light they had. Food was in short supply, and rats no longer visited him in his cell. Some moldy bread was occasionally left by the door, but Harry had long since lost the will to move that far. If he died of starvation that meant that he would no longer be in his own personal Hell, he would be free.

Several hours later the door opened again, and Harry reluctantly pulled his hand from Neville's. His body was rolled over so that he lay on his back, and from the soft tone coming from the Death Eater above him, Harry knew that it was Snape. Neville seemed to know it too because his question through the wall was about Harry's condition.

"Not good," Snape replied softly. "How he's still alive I don't know."

"Get him out of here Snape," Neville ordered. "While you can still get him out, do it."

It had been a long time since Neville had been afraid of their former professor. Being the only Death Eater to bring them food and the softly spoken hints, the two knew that he was a spy. Snape only sneered and insulted them when there were witnesses, so that was how the two knew if he was alone or not.

"The Order will be coming tonight," Snape whispered. "The wards will be down for a short amount of time when the Dark Lord leaves, be ready to go."

"I've been ready for weeks Snape," Neville stated. "It's Harry who's going to need help."

Harry let the conversation rush over him. He knew, and he guessed that the other two did as well, that he wouldn't survive being taken away from the Island. He was hanging onto life by a thread, the only reason he was still alive was because of Neville.

"Be ready Longbottom, there will only be one chance of escaping this place, you miss it and you will die here."

Snape left. Once the door was shut Harry rolled back onto his side with a great deal of difficulty and reached for Neville's hand again. Neville said nothing, just returned the gesture, knowing that Harry needed the slight contact.

"We will get out of here Harry, I promise you."

It was several hours later when Harry felt the wards shift and disappear. He squeezed Neville's hand to let him know that the time had come and rolled away from the wall. He remained on the ground as the effort involved for sitting was far beyond what he was capable of. He could hear shouts down the corridor, some voices he recognised as Death Eaters, and some he hadn't heard for so long. He smiled slightly, his end had come, and one way or another he would be leaving his cell.

He could hear Neville leaving his cell and the hurry of feet to his door. It swung open with a bang, and Harry heard gasps of surprise and horror. Neville appeared before him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry attempted to move his good arm to grab Neville's hand, but Neville saw the struggle and grabbed it himself.

"I'm here Harry, and we're getting out of here."

He was lifted from the floor by strange hands that didn't belong to Neville and he desperately clung to the boy's hand. Neville hurried along beside them as they made their way out of the building. Harry knew the way they were traveling, it was to the roof of the building. He had been there only once when he still could open his eyes, so that he could be shown how pointless it was to try and swim away. There was not a single mass of land in sight. He found it amusing that the only way out was to go to the roof.

Shouts appeared from behind him and his hand slipped from Neville's. Death Eaters were chasing them and firing spells as they went. Harry knew that he, and the unknown man carrying him, had been separated from the others. He heard Neville's shouts grow fainter as he was carried away.

"Damn, stupid Death Eaters," the man holding him cursed. "Now which way?"

Death Eater screams behind them caused the man to spin sharply, and the brush of breeze on Harry's face let him know exactly where he was. They were next to the only window on this level, and on the wrong side of the building to be heading to the roof.

"There he is! Stop him!" the Death Eaters screamed upon spotting them. Harry knew that he was about to die, he only hoped that Neville would escape. Curses flashed past them, there colour noticeable even behind his closed eyelids. The sound of shattering glass came from behind him, and then there was a flash of green.

The man holding him had turned at the last minute and taken the killing curse in the back, dying immediately. As the arms holding him went limp, Harry noticed that the force of the curse had actually sent them out the window, and they were falling into the ocean far below them.

Harry's last thought before crashing into the water, was that he would finally be able to see his parents again.

Ta da! Up next is Deltora

Chapter 2 - The Peddler