Grazhir :: Harry Potter :: Control Issues :: 03 :: Mad-Eye Moody

03 • Mad-Eye Moody

After some experimentation Voldemort realized that he could take a kind of back seat in Harry’s mind and see through the young man’s eyes, hear with his ears, and so forth. And if he exerted himself, as he had done once before years ago, he could completely take over and control Harry’s body as if it were his own. That knowledge made it easier on his nerves when his mate (as he had begun calling Harry in his thoughts) decided he was ready to brave a trip to Gringotts.

It was true that Voldemort could have simply accompanied Harry, but he had his own work to do, and did not want to give the impression, nor make it a reality, that Harry needed him there physically for some reason, as though Harry was incapable of standing on his own two feet. Therefore, he settled into that back seat for a vicarious ride.

And Harry did slip into Gringotts with very little fuss, despite the fact that he was wearing another hooded cloak which concealed his identity. It might have had something to do with the fact that the cloak he was wearing was a buff sort of colour, and could hardly be considered threatening. Underneath it, though, was his combat gear, and even without it Harry was and would be devastatingly lethal if provoked.

As it turned out, Dumbledore had been leeching off Harry’s accounts in order to ‘fund’ the young man’s training. Voldemort had snorted over that and could immediately sense Harry’s agreement with his reaction. Other people, Order members, had probably been enjoying Harry’s inheritance while he had been denied access by circumstance.

It wasn’t all bad news; Harry still had tons of money awaiting him, and quickly informed the goblins that no one was to have access to his accounts except himself, regardless of who, and regardless of reason, rationalization, or justification.

On the heels of that decision he hired one of them as his account manager and negotiated a very generous contract for the salary of said goblin, making it very clear that he was being so kind because he expected his accounts to remain inviolate from that point on, and his new manager deserved to be rewarded adequately for his loyal service.

Harry walked away from the bank with a sack full of galleons, new keys (the old ones having been rendered useless nearly immediately), and the intent of doing a bit of shopping. Just because he didn’t eat food like other people did not mean there weren’t plenty of things to waste his money on, like clothing he often wouldn’t wear.

And so he rode along as Harry strolled into Madam Malkin’s and began perusing the racks, then allowed himself to be drawn into an intense discussion of what he was interested in purchasing that day. Voldemort made some suggestions of his own to be helpful, but largely stayed out of it, curious to see what Harry would decide on by himself.

His mate left a short time later, promising to return when his order was complete, and wandered off to check out the latest in brooms at the quidditch shop, though he did not actually enter, then slinked off to investigate any number of interesting sights and places—the sort of thing he had not been able to do for years.

As he was walking toward Knockturn Alley to browse through the more unmentionable things one might find, Harry had the exceptional fortune to spy Mad-Eye Moody and casually arranged to sidle up behind the man, still in his very non-threatening guise, and attempt to determine whether or not the man had picked up on the fact that Harry was actually out in public.

Moody was muttering under his breath; it seemed he was aware, and was making plans to be there when Harry would have to return to pick up his new clothes. Voldemort got the distinct impression that the man was confident he could handle Harry on his own, which Harry agreed with, though neither of them could fathom why the man would hold that belief.

After all, if an on-the-loose Harry was shopping, of all things, did that not suggest he might not be in as much distress as they would have predicted? Or was it that Moody thought that a desperate Harry would attempt to blend in better so as to more easily find food. That would not explain the amount of time it had taken for Harry to appear in public, though, unless the man was of a mind to believe that it had taken a few days for Harry to shake off his conditioning enough to actively seek out more normal avenues of action.

Voldemort mentally shrugged and Harry echoed that. And after a brief, not exactly verbal discussion, Harry sped up enough to slowly bypass the retired auror, still headed in the direction of Knockturn Alley, and make damn sure his face was seen by at least one passerby. She reacted just like a good little cat’s paw and breathed out his name, very probably loudly enough to alert Moody and spur him into actively paying attention to what was around him with that blasted magical eye of his.

Harry kept right on walking, gracefully making his way through the crowd and into the bastion of darkness, his eyes at once seeking out every doorway, hiding spot, and possible ambush point. A few seconds of his time brought him deeper into the alley, where his cloak stood out as being drastically inappropriate, then he drifted to a stop just at the entrance to a short cul-de-sac.

A quick glance into it revealed nothing and no one to worry about, so Harry turned so he could see back from whence he came, and sure enough the characteristic sound of a wooden leg striking the ground could be heard getting closer. Harry smirked and took up a casual position leaning against the wall, then waited, looking for all the world as if he was scouting out feeding opportunities.

Moody came into view less than a minute later, pausing only for a split second before he oriented on Harry. Harry, for his part, took notice of the new arrival, shrugged, then went back to his search. Moody finally came to a stop near him, but not too close, and said, “Potter, what do you think you’re doing?”

Harry turned his head at the sound (and Voldemort could feel the blankness that settled in as his mate’s expression), then looked Moody up and down appraisingly. “You’re too old,” he said in a dismissive tone, “I can’t use you. Go away.”

“Potter, you will come with me right now,” Moody said. “I don’t know how you managed to run off like that, but the answer to that can wait until later.”

Harry frowned and arched a brow. “I said you’re too old. Now go away before I attempt to feed off you anyway.”

Moody paused at that, then said slowly, “You’re hungry, boy? Come with me and I’ll make sure you get fed. Someone young, perhaps? Healthy, vigorous?”

Harry pushed away from the wall and acted quite a bit more interested. “You’ll provide me with food?”

“All the food you can handle, boy,” Moody said, trying to make his gravelly voice sound coaxing. “You just need to come with me.”

“Really,” Harry said. “You’re certain of this.” He reached up to push back his hood and reveal his face fully, palming an inconspicuous portkey at the same time.

“Yes,” Moody said simply, taking a step closer.

Harry relaxed even further, taking a step forward of his own, and reaching out that same hand. “Food?” he whispered, sounding faintly desperate. “I’m so hungry.”

And then Moody made a rather silly decision given his legendary paranoia and reached out to take Harry’s hand, thus activating the waiting portkey. A few seconds later they were both standing in Voldemort’s private dungeon. Voldemort hastily pushed back from his desk and made for the secret door, keeping one eye mentally on what Harry was doing. By the time he reached the bottom of the staircase Harry was standing over an unconscious Moody, a smug little smile on his face.

“Well done, Harry,” Voldemort said. “Granted, it helps when they aren’t too bright, but still, that was a masterful performance on your part. I’m quite proud of you.”

Harry flashed him a blinding smile and looked back at his former trainer. “I shudder to think what he’ll look like once he’s stripped,” he commented absently, then stepped back and wrinkled his nose.

Voldemort chuckled and nodded his head. “Even so, he must be searched just as carefully as Severus was.” He whipped out his wand and prepared to do just that.

A half hour later Moody was bound to a spare torture device; they did take a moment to spell Severus’s over to one wall so it was out of the way. Voldemort left long enough to procure the potions they would need, forcing them down Moody’s throat when he returned, and then conjured up two comfortable chairs for them to use. “All right. Now, Harry, this is what I want you to do. . . .”

They had not even been at it long when Harry was pushed past the point of reason and into a dangerous state of violent agitation, so Voldemort pulled his mate to him and kissed him passionately, knowing it would derail Harry’s present desire to start killing indiscriminately at the depth of betrayal they had just uncovered. It wasn’t until several minutes later that he pulled away slightly.

“Harry,” he said gently, “rational thinking, please, and self control. You’re not going to gain any true satisfaction if you act in a blind rage. If you would like me to continue this investigation alone, that will be all right. I don’t mind.”

Harry made an odd noise in his throat, one that Voldemort interpreted as an expression of deep emotional pain, then nodded.

“Perhaps you might consider spending some time in the training room?” Voldemort suggested. “I think that would be a safe way for you to work off your anger and aggression. If you prefer to wait here, though, that’s perfectly fine. Or, you could return to our room and take a sleeping potion.”

Harry’s expression turned to one of helpless indecision and he began fidgeting restlessly, so Voldemort made the decision for him. “All right, Harry. Let’s go back to the house for now,” he said and pulled the hood of his mate’s cloak up to conceal his face, then began leading him out of the dungeon.

Harry was docile enough during the brief journey, though Voldemort could not help but feel as though the young man was like a tightly compressed spring just waiting to explode. He led his mate to their sitting room so he could fetch a potion from the cabinet, then into the bedroom and undressed him, knowing that would help to settle him a bit. “Are you hungry?” he asked, wanting to be certain that was not part of the problem.

Harry shook his head.

“Will you take this sleeping potion for me?” he asked, holding up the vial.

Harry took it without speaking and opened it, knocking it back quickly and tossing the empty vial aside.

“All right,” he said, guiding his mate over to the bed and getting him settled. And then he waited until he was sure Harry was unconscious before entering his mate’s mind to see if any damage had been done to the barrier that he would need to repair. There was none, which was a good sign, so he extricated himself, smoothed the hair back from Harry’s face, then returned to the dungeon to finish things up.

He could hardly fault Harry for his reaction. After all, it was a bit shocking to find out that half the Order had been in on and approved of what had been done to his mate. Voldemort was really quite curious to see just exactly how Harry would end up dealing with them, especially people like Lupin, Granger, and the youngest Weasley male.

Moody was frequently in attendance at Order meetings, so Voldemort was able to get a very good idea of exactly who the lucky folks were that had just been added to Harry’s list of people to have a chat with, plus see the useless, fluttering distress over the fact that Severus had gone missing. That made him feel very tempted to do a bit of creative carving himself, but not until after he had erased any evidence of Harry’s own words from Severus’s chest.

His perusal of Moody’s memories also ensured that Voldemort knew where most of the Order members resided, which was quite a coup, and Moody had some knowledge of their defensive warding, which definitely did not hurt. Voldemort stopped long enough to fetch some supplies so that he might take notes, and then continued digging.

He made absolutely certain he was back at the house before Harry would wake up. Voldemort preferred to be sitting there just in case, ready to soothe him with a touch if need be, or simply talk if the rest had succeeded in letting Harry’s subconscious mind work through some of his anger and pain.

As it was, Harry’s eyes fluttered open and immediately sought out his. “How bad is it?” he asked quietly.

“I have a list of names, and for some notes on where they live, plus some information on warding. I also noticed that Order headquarters appears to be within the home of former supporters of mine.”

“Yeah. But, I think . . . only one was marked? Uh, Regulus?”

“Correct. I feel compelled to wonder if a certain portrait I noticed would be of any use to us.”

Harry furrowed his brow for a moment. “I don’t think you’re talking about Nigellus, so I guess you mean Mrs Black?”

Voldemort nodded. “What do you think?”

“She probably would if it was for you. Well, unless something has drastically changed since the last time I was there. I doubt Nigellus would ever help. He’s partially bound simply because he’s a former headmaster and as far as I know, Dumbledore is still headmaster at Hogwarts?”

“Yes, he is. Still, he was a Slytherin, Harry, and one shouldn’t underestimate that. He may be loyal as a former headmaster to a present headmaster, but our thrilling little war has absolutely nothing to do with the school. Nigellus can be as loose-lipped and deceitful as he wishes when it comes to anything not related to Hogwarts.”

A slow smile brightened Harry’s expression. “That’s downright sneaky thinking.”

Voldemort smirked and nodded again. “Naturally, Harry. We do have a reputation to maintain. However, it would be easier to see if Nigellus would ever consider being a snitch via Mrs Black, and to do that you would have to sneak into that place. Even though I can derive the location from past knowledge, I would not be able to actually see it from the outside, nor enter.”

“How important do you think it would be?” Harry countered.

Voldemort shrugged. “That depends. The impression I received was that Black cannot leave her frame, so she is of limited value as far as a source of information, though I suppose people might be foolish enough to chatter in the front hall, or loudly enough nearby for her to hear.”

“I don’t know if he’s in the same place he was,” Harry said, “but Nigellus was in one of the bedrooms.” He snorted softly. “The bedroom they always made me use, actually. I know he could move freely between Hogwarts and the house, but I don’t know how much lateral freedom he had. There weren’t a lot of portraits there, but I might not be remembering right.”

“Well, for the time being it may not matter. So long as we have a steady supply of Order members to plunder, we’ll have fairly timely and accurate information. If it starts to look as though we must attempt to subvert them, we can revisit that particular idea.”

“Okay. So, you have names, some locations, and some warding specs?”

“Correct. Would you like to start going over that data, or. . . ?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m a bit hungry, and I still feel wound up.”

Voldemort arched a brow and considered, then said, “Then now might be a good time for you to visit the training room, and once you’ve exhausted yourself I can feed you fully. If you want a small snack first, though, I’m perfectly all right with that.”

Harry’s gaze flicked off to the side, then back, and the corner of his mouth curled up. “Maybe just a little snack,” he said softly as he sat up and threw back the covers. Harry slipped off the bed so that he could kneel before the chair Voldemort was in, then reached up to almost reverently free Voldemort’s cock from his trousers so he could take it in his mouth and begin to move his head smoothly.

Voldemort relaxed into the chair’s embrace and closed his eyes, content with Harry being in control and with being coaxed and sucked and teased with fingers into an orgasm that was not quite as intense as normal, but was still very satisfying for him. He did not open his eyes until Harry had gently tucked his spent member back into his trousers, but when he did his mate had a sweet smile curving his lips.

“I’ll be sure to spend enough time in there to give you a chance to recover, Tom,” Harry said a bit saucily and rose, stooped for a moment to drop a kiss on Voldemort’s lips, then sauntered off.

Voldemort was once again struck by the odd dichotomy Harry represented, and all he could do was shake his head slowly in bemusement.


It wasn’t until several days later that Harry had decided what he wanted to do with Moody, and Voldemort had been able to make the proper arrangements. So it was that when Alastor came to awareness, the first thing he saw was his daughter, naked, bound, and cruelly gagged a short distance from him. Or so it appeared. Voldemort did have the odd Death Eater who simply would not learn their lessons, and had graciously provided one to play a certain role in the upcoming spectacle. After all, he had been planning on killing the woman anyway, so she might as well be of some use before then.

Moody let out a strangled cry and began struggling desperately against his own bonds, then stilled abruptly when Harry caught his attention by laughing softly. “What have you done!?” he demanded.

Harry stepped forward and shrugged, sliding one hand down the girl’s back to gently pat her on the ass. “Well, my dear trainer, I thought I’d give you a little treat. After all, you spent so much time seeing to my own welfare, and at that, you never really did get a chance to have the same kind of fun Sevvie did.”

Harry let his hand trail back up along the girl’s spine as he stared intently at Moody. “To that end, I went to a great deal of trouble to set this up, and make sure you were comfortably trussed in a way that will make this a lot easier. You see, I always wondered if you never touched me like Sevvie did because you were too old. Can’t get it up, darling? I can fix that for you, and I will.

“As for her, I reckoned it would help drive the point home for you to see how it makes you feel to watch someone you care about being treated like I was. Or, in this case, actively participate. So, this is what we’re going to do,” Harry said patiently, taking a moment to playfully tweak a lock of the girl’s hair, then pat her on the cheek.

“I order you to release me! You’re supposed to obey me, boy!”

Harry frowned slightly and brought a hand to rest on his hip. “You’re not all that bright, are you? This is called payback, darling. Revenge. And in just a few minutes, I’m going to make damn sure you can get it up, because you’re going to take the part of Sevvie in a little play I’ve scripted out, while your sadly innocent daughter will get the privilege of being me.”

And having said that, Harry quickly cast a spell to silence Moody, not wanting to be further interrupted while he was being so damn nice to explain things. Then he sauntered over to a rack against one wall and spent a minute contemplating the offerings; eventually he selected a whip and sauntered back to the girl, trailing the multiple strands over her back. And then he stepped into position and began whipping her mercilessly, making a bloody mess of her back, ass, and even her thighs.

Moody was quite affected by the scene, and definitely by the tears that were streaming ceaselessly down the girl’s face, and struggled even harder in a futile attempt to get free and protect her.

After the blood was flowing quite freely Harry tossed the whip aside with a satisfied smile and turned his attention back to Moody, slipping a thin metal rod from his gear and holding it up. “This, darling, is what will make sure you’ll be able to shove that useless cock of yours into your own flesh and blood. And due to the sheer beauty of construction for that rack you’re presently bound to, I can direct your every move. It’s a lot more fun than using the imperius curse, I think. You don’t get to escape into that nice floaty feeling this way.”

Voldemort was having a hard time not laughing at Harry’s antics, and felt renewed pleasure at his mate’s creativity when it came to torturing his enemies. He watched as Harry stepped up to Moody and crouched, then forced the rod up Moody’s urethra, essentially rendering him “hard,” especially after a tap of his wand made the rod expand.

“Did you enjoy that, darling? Does it make you feel like a real man again?” Harry asked absently as he stepped out of the way so that he might use his wand to direct both occupied racks into position. Once Moody was nearly up against his ostensible daughter Harry firmly grasped the man’s bleeding cock, slathered more blood on it from the wounds of the girl, then pressed the head against the girl’s anus.

“I really, really hope you enjoy this, darling. I know I will.” Harry giggled madly and flicked his wand again, this time to direct the movements of Moody’s frame, then watched avidly as the man was forced by his bindings to rape his daughter. And as an afterthought, he cast a spell to prevent Alastor from keeping his eye closed.

Harry let that go on for several minutes before he decided that Moody needed a little something else to contemplate. He flicked his wand and directed Severus’s rack out of the shadows to rest directly in Moody’s line of vision. “As you can see, darling, I had loads of fun playing with Sevvie earlier. I’d let you talk to him, but he completely lost his head at one point so I’m afraid he’s not feeling all that well. Still, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to take comfort in his presence, so there you are.”

Another few minutes passed by; tears began to slip free from Moody’s only eye, and Harry obviously felt that was a signal to move things along. He stepped over and slid one hand down to cup Moody’s scrotum, then made a tsk’ing noise. “My, my, not even a little bit tight. Could it possibly be that you aren’t getting off on this, darling? Could it possibly be that you’re even now regretting you ever agreed to that nefarious scheme to train me? I’m sure your daughter regrets it. Or are you thinking it’s a shame you didn’t beat me yourself?”

Harry removed his hand and directed the frame to force Moody to thrust harder and more quickly, then retrieved the whip he had cast aside and started flaying the girl again using the same rhythm, laughing the entire time in a sick mockery of humor. But he did eventually grow tired of his little game and drop the whip at his feet, then move to stand at the girl’s head.

Voldemort checked the time, knowing they could not unduly prolong things because of the polyjuice, and smiled when Harry lifted his gaze and stared into the shadows. “Tom? What do you think? Has he suffered enough yet?”

Moody stiffened in his bindings as best he could as Voldemort stepped into the light. “Once again, Harry, I must commend you on your technique. These people obviously didn’t value or appreciate you. Why, it’s practically criminal that they never let you play or express yourself freely.”

Harry smiled sweetly and bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment, then glanced at the girl, totally ignoring Moody. “You know, I think she’s just about fucked out, Tom. I should probably be kind and just kill her.”

Moody attempted to protest that strenuously, so Harry removed the silencing spell and said, “Did you have a suggestion, darling?”

“I don’t care what you do to me, just don’t kill my baby girl,” Moody said in great distress.

“Yes, she certainly is your baby, isn’t she. Such a good daddy to make sure your daughter gets in one last good fuck before she dies. Why, maybe I should nominate you for father of the year?”

“Potter, please!”

“Well, perhaps not. It isn’t like she’s had an orgasm or anything.” Harry tapped the side of his face, smearing himself with blood. “Well, I have to kill someone, darling. If I can’t kill her, then I guess that means you’re volunteering?”

“Yes! Just let her live!”

Harry aimed a bright smile at the man and nodded. “Sure! I can do that. But, you’re going to keep right on fucking her while you die, old man. You know, die in harness?” He giggled at his own joke before replacing the silencing spell and tucking away his wand in favor of a long cord produced from his gear. After running it through his hands for a moment Harry slinked off behind Moody’s frame and looped the cord around the man’s neck, then slowly garroted him.

And before Moody finally did die, Harry whispered, “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll take very good care of your baby girl, like you did for me.” The cord was looped back up and tucked away, then Harry looked at Voldemort expectantly.

“Are you hungry, my sweet?” Harry nodded and edged closer, so Voldemort got out his wand and cast a quick killing curse on the nearly dead girl, then put both bodies in a stasis similar to that of dear Severus. Granted, a dungeon really ought to have a certain ambiance, but he wasn’t all that keen on having the bodies actually start decaying just yet and stinking up the place. “All right, Harry. Bring your hood back up and we’ll go home. I’ll tidy up here later.”


“I think your handling of the situation was appropriate, Harry.”

“Well, I wanted him to feel something other than just physical pain, Tom. After all, these people broke my trust, tried to break my mind and spirit, and certainly broke my heart.” Harry snuggled up closer and kissed Voldemort’s neck. “I mean, maybe you’re right. I don’t think I am really the type for casual killing, or even a cruel person. Not normally, anyway. But I have to admit that getting revenge is rather satisfying for me. And if they hadn’t have done all that, I would probably be more likely to empty my stomach at the very idea of what I’m willing to do now.”

Voldemort stroked Harry’s back, careful to avoid the scales. “If at any time you would prefer that I serve justice on these people, simply say so and I’ll handle things. Otherwise, I’m perfectly happy to continue assisting you in your endeavors.”

“I will,” Harry said. “I was thinking I might track down my dear friends Ron and Hermione next. It’s been ever so long since I’ve seen them.” Then he sat back and gazed at Voldemort shrewdly. “In any case, I’m sure you are happy to help. While I know there’s a lot more to it than this, I am aware that it simplifies things for you, what with me picking off members of your opposition in my own personal vendetta.”

Voldemort smiled broadly. “Yes, that is true. But given that I have become hopelessly addicted to you, my sweet, I am equally happy for your sake alone.”

Harry smirked at him and nodded. “That’s about what I thought. I had an idea, by the way, for Sevvie.”


“Don’t you think it would be really thoughtful of us to make sure Dumblefuck gets his little peon back? I thought, if you liked the idea, that we could ship him off to Hogwarts via portkey. You know, perhaps during a meal? Wouldn’t it be fun to have Sevvie land on the headmaster’s plate, still nude, still bloody? It might upset some appetites!”

Voldemort chuckled and pulled Harry close again for a hug, then said, “I think that might be doable.”

“And maybe include a little note, staked to his chest with a knife or a pin so it doesn’t get lost in transit.”

“Let me think about it, Harry, the logistics. I will definitely go ahead and remove those carvings you made, though, and possibly replace them with something less telling.”

“Okay. Logistics?” Harry sat back again with an adorably puzzled expression on his face.

Voldemort had to firmly rein in the urge to sink his hands in Harry’s hair and kiss him soundly or get lost in another round of sex. “Yes, such as making certain the portkey could be set to land him in the exact location. It’s been a number of years since I’ve been in the castle. Bodily, that is.”

Harry pondered, his gaze drifting off to the right. Then he looked back with an odd smile curving his lips.

“What is it?” Voldemort asked suspiciously.

Harry immediately adopted an innocent expression. “I bet I could nip in and refresh my memory of that particular location, and verify the coordinates, without getting caught. Then I could return here and you could make that portkey, Tom.”

Voldemort knew it was a mistake, but he took the bait and said, “You bet?”

“Why, yes. I was thinking that if I was able to manage it, you’d give me a very specific reward.”

“Harry, I would give you just about anything you wanted anyway. All you have to do is ask.”

Harry grinned and replied, “Yes, but it’s more fun this way.”

Voldemort gave a slight sigh and asked the expected question. “And just what reward would you want?”

Harry didn’t answer immediately; he licked his lips first and coyly traced a pattern on Voldemort’s chest before he said, “I’d want you to take me on your desk. You know, in your office.”

“But, Harry, that’s horribly cliché,” he protested.

“Yes, I know, but think about it. Why would it be one if people weren’t so damn eager to make it one? There must be a reason, and I want to know. So, if I successfully bring back those coordinates, will you?”

Voldemort found himself smiling almost against his will and nodding. “All right. If that’s what you’d like, then yes. But, what about if you fail?”

Harry looked briefly taken aback. “I don’t think that’s really a concern, do you?”

“Perhaps, but it’s not a true bet unless there’s a penalty involved for losing,” Voldemort pointed out.

“Oh. Well, I suppose so,” Harry said a bit reluctantly. “Like what?”

He thought about that for a few moments, then smiled. “If you fail, Harry, you will have to wear clothing for an entire week. That is, with the exception of when I’m feeding you, or we’re sleeping, or any time I decide to take you simply because I feel like it.”

A dismayed look crossed Harry’s face. “A whole week? Well, okay. But I’m not going to fail, Tom. In any case, you’ve just reminded me that I need to go pick up my order from Madam Malkin’s.”