The Zoo

A/N: This fic was written as an emergency reserve for the QLFC, Round 8, Beater 2. Fortunately, as always, our Beater came through and posted a better fic. I am posting this only because I didn't want it to go to waste, and as a gift-fic dedicated to Arianna Waters and Chemical Flashes. Without Ari, I would not have written this, whilst Chemical Flashes inspired this and should be thanked for all the encouragement and support given.

I am aware that this isn't exactly the best piece of what, and it does contain dark themes. The use of humans in zoos, unfortunately, is not fiction and has occurred throughout history. The mistreatment of animals is also common today, where creatures such as lions, tigers, elephants, and bears, etc., are forced to perform and are starved in places like circuses and zoos. Thankfully, a tiger place in Thailand recently was shut down for its torture and mistreatment of animals, and hopefully, more will be (not saying that all places mistreat animals). I am also aware that technically, humans are animals, but you get the idea.

Anywho, I hope you enjoy this VoldemortWins!AU, showing what life is like two years after he wins.

He was not an animal, and would not be one, no matter how hard they tried to turn him into one.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I must ask you to brace yourselves. Our next attraction is the most terrifying, yet most piteous, we have managed to add to our collection. The last one of its kind, a rare, nature-defying breed of Muggle and magic… Are you ready to be amazed?"

The boy sighed and rolled onto his side, body numb to the rock he called his bed. If he had more energy, he would have pressed his arms to his ears, blocking out the guide's spiel. If he had more energy, he would try to break the manacles biting into his wrists and ankles, and break free from his enclosure. As it were, all he could manage to do was turn away from the many curious faces pressing their noses against the cold glass, eager to catch a glimpse of him.

A sharp prod to his ribs indicated that his keepers had other plans. It came again, sharper this time, as the guide continued his speech.

"I present, the very last Muggleborn, Mr Teeny!" the guide shouted, rapping on the glass.

A collective gasp could be heard when the boy finally sat up. If he didn't, he knew he would have been prodded until one of his ribs were broken, just like his former inmate had been. It was probably a good thing that the girl had given in, though; his sick and twisted captors had apparently planned for them to mate, providing for them a third Muggleborn for some experiments. Nevertheless, the boy did not much feel like walking around with yet another broken bone.

"Isn't he a fright?" the guide asked.

The man nodded at the guard—a Death Eater—in the enclosure with a smirk. The boy knew what was coming even before the guard stooped down and replaced the stick he held with a large, metal collar. The guard walked up to him, a glint in his heavily-lidded eyes. Rather than backing up into the stone wall behind him, the boy remained still as the guard clapped the manacle around his neck. The guard yanked on the chain attached to it, forcing him to stand.

The boy's knees wobbled under the weight, but he did not give them the satisfaction of falling over. He walked forward, each step causing pain to shoot up his spine, as the guard yanked the chain again and paraded him around.

"He looks human," one child—no more than six or seven years old—said.

"Yeah, he's boring, I want to see the tigers again," the child's companion agreed.

The guard stopped in his tracks. Looking at the guide, he dipped his head once. The boy braced himself for what was next, knowing the consequence if any customer seemed dissatisfied.

"A human? A boring human?" the guide asked, theatrically waving his arms around. "This creature is no human!"

The boy could see the child's mother clap a hand over her mouth and glare at the child, her cheeks growing red. The guide smiled at the woman, however, and continued, "This creature is a beast! Would you like to see what he can do?"

The crowd clapped and cheered, a few wizards whistling.

"I can't hear you!"

"Yes!" the cheers grew louder, and those nearest the enclosure began to pound on the glass.

"Right, Mudblood, you heard them," the guard whispered into the boy's ear, the scent of alcohol heavy on the man's breath. "Let's see what you can do."

"Alright, let's see him do something simple. No, don't laugh folks, the brain is small in these creatures. Who wants to see him… clap?"

The guard poked him, and the boy had no choice but to comply. Putting his hands together, he clapped twice.

"More," his guard hissed.

The boy sighed, but clapped another three times, the chains on his manacles rattling.

The crowd nodded, evidently impressed by such a feat. "Do more!" a few even shouted.

"Alright, let's see him jump."

Another prod to his rib had the boy jumping, albeit only a centimetre or two off the ground. It was enough for the crowd who looked at each other and smiled.

"You know folks, this animal can even speak," the guide said.

"No way!"

"Impossible!"

The boy thought of what he could say, but one look at the glare on his guard's face and he thought better of it.

The tricks soon became harder, anything the crowd wanted. Do a back flip? Sure. Stand on his head? No problem. If there was something he couldn't do, the guard brought out the wand and cast 'crucio,' and soon he found he strived to do them.

By the time the crowd grew bored and the guard tired, the boy was on his knees. Every muscle ached, fresh waves of pain surging through his body. His head pounded against his skull, the laughter and jeers of the crowd still echoing through it. When he closed his eyes, little stars danced behind them.

His mouth was dry, yet it was a few more hours before the guard—a different Death Eater this time—did anything about it. Lifting his head a fraction, he saw a pair of polished, black boots tapping the concrete before a steak was plopped down in front of them.

"Eat."

The boy looked at the steak, screwing his nose up at it. Red liquid dripped down its sides, the meat an unhealthy hue of red and brown. The stench it gave off alerted him to the fact that it had never met a fridge or cooler—whatever wizarding families used.

Lifting his head, his neck still sore from the manacle they had left on it, he stared at the guard. "It's raw," he said.

"So? Perfect food for an animal." The guard glared down at him, nudging the steak with his foot. Throwing another silver bowl beside the steak and aiming his wand at it, he filled the bowl with water. "There's your drink. I suggest you eat up before your next performance."

The boy looked back at the food. Reaching out a hand, the manacles on his wrists restricting the movement, he pushed the steak away. It was the wrong thing to do, for the guard flicked his wand at the steak, levitated it, and used it to slap the boy across the face.

"Eat it."

His face stung, liquid running down his cheek. Rather than wiping it away, he folded his arms. In his peripheral, he could see the guard aiming his wand at him, ready to fire a curse. He must have decided against it, however, for he soon put his wand back into his robes pocket and shrugged.

"Suit yourself," he said, kicking the steak as he walked to the exit. "Not my problem."

Once the boy might've watched him leave, hoping to find a way out of the enclosure. He had soon discovered there was no point, however, when the only way one could enter or exit was by presenting the Dark Mark to the guard on the outside—that, or in a body bag.

Hearing the click of the door, the boy laid back, staring up at the flickering candles on the roof. He missed the sunlight; he missed the warm, natural air. He missed the rain, the sky, the grass, the dirt. He missed walking, running, laughing, even studying—everything that made him human. He knew it was their intention all along, to strip him of all he loved, of all he felt, and to turn him into one of the other creatures locked away in this 'zoo'. His name—Merlin knew what it originally was, the last two or so years weighing down on his memory—had been replaced with the ridiculous title 'Mr Teeny.'

They wanted him to act like an animal, and yet that was the one thing he refused to be.

Even if he did want to eat, he would not have had the time. Not long after the guard left, another one entered. "On your feet," she said, poking him with the stick used earlier.

The boy grunted but did not move. The poking continued, hard jabs hitting his ribs and thighs.

"Get up."

Just like that morning, a crowd was gathered in front of his enclosure, noses pressed against the glass. A spell hit him in the chest, and the boy was forced to his feet; through his headache, a voice in his mind told him that it was a good idea to get up, to balance on his weak ankles and knees.

"Witches and wizards, I'm pleased to present to you the most horrifying, uncivilised creature known in existence. Ladies, hold on to your children, for here is, Mr Teeny!" the guide roared.

The boy gave the crowd a wave, another good idea sent to his mind. He saw a few women gasp, their husbands snarling at him. His heart gave a jolt, however, at the number of children staring at him, a mixture of fear and enjoyment in their eyes. None of them could've been older than ten or eleven; young, impressionable, Pureblood minds being educated on the last Muggleborn in Britain and, if rumours were true, the world.

He blinked as camera flashes assaulted his eyes, even as his mind told him it was a good idea to stare at them and continue waving.

"Who wants to see him do a few tricks?" the guide asked.

The crowd whistled and chorused, "Me!"

One nod at his guard and the boy knew it would start again. The cameras continued flashing as he began to jump and flip around the tiny enclosure, palms slapping against the hard concrete. When he was finished, the same voice in his mind told him to bow.

"Careful folks, too much noise might set him off," the guide said, a smile on his face.

'Growl at them,' the voice urged.

The boy opened his mouth to comply, the cameras still going off. One particular flash caught his eye, however, and he shook his head, trying to shake the bright lights from his eyes. As soon as he did, the spell on him seemed to be lifted, the voice disappearing.

A few of the guests gasped at his reaction, some witches stepping back from the glass. Looking around, the boy saw his guard smirking, wand in hand. Ah yes, they wanted him to act like an animal and thought he was.

More camera flashes lit up his enclosure and the hallway. Turning back to the crowd, he pleaded with his eyes for them to stop, to free them. He knew it was in vain hope, but perhaps, just maybe, one of them would take pity. He had a feeling that he had once known a decent witch or wizard—a few of them, actually.

The crowd simply laughed, pointing at him with glee in their eyes. One little girl stuck her tongue out at him, only to be clapped on the shoulder and praised by her well-dressed father. The boy's eyes, however, were focused on another child, whose camera was different from the rest. It looked older with more buttons, the pictures inside developing instantly. More importantly, the boy was sure he had seen the camera before.

Slowly, he stumbled closer to the glass. A few more people leapt back whilst others cheered. He ignored them all, gaze locked on the camera. Yes, he had seen it before, it belonged to… it belonged to someone important… it belonged to…

"The camera! That's my brother's camera!" he said, lifting his hands and pounding on the glass. "Give me my brother's camera!"

The guard in the enclosure picked up the chain still attached to the collar on his neck and pulled on it. The boy almost fell back, his hands tugging on the collar. His eyes remained fixated on the camera, however, and he managed to lunge forward again.

"Uh oh, ladies and gentlemen, he's gone a little crazy," the guide said.

The boy ignored him, fists pummeling the glass. The child with the camera continued snapping his picture, pulling it away only long enough to wink at him.

"Give me that camera!" he shouted, pointing at it.

Laughter replaced the horrified looks, and the crowd began to mock him. "Give me my camera," some of them mimicked, whilst others resumed clapping.

It was his brother's camera; they couldn't have it!

The guard tugged him back again, rougher this time. "That's enough," she snarled, her other hand holding her wand and pointing it at him.

Bearing his teeth at her, he tried to push forward. "I want my camera!"

The crowd clapped him on, stamping their feet on the ground. He clawed at the glass, tempted to rip out their faces. It was his brother's camera; surely they were the uncivilised ones for refusing to give it to him?

The guard finally managed to push him away from the glass with the aid of her wand. He fell to the ground, panting. He tried to get up again, determined to not give up, but the guard was already on top of him. Aiming her wand at his chest, she shot a stinging hex at him.

He crumbled into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut. The curse hurt more than it would've any other human, and he bit his tongue to stop him from crying out. Still, it was not enough to wipe him out, and, taking a few, deep breaths, he swiped out at the guard's legs.

"Boo!" the crowd hissed when he managed to scratch the guard's ankles.

It wasn't enough to cause any damage, but from the way she reacted, he may as well have ripped into her muscle.

"That hurt, you filthy animal," she said, cursing him again.

The crowd cheered as he writhed around, the pain shooting through his body. More camera flashes lit the place. Focusing on the flashes and his mission, he continued to try to claw at the guard. He had to get that camera.

"He's a savage!"

"Don't let him get out!"

"I can see why they're almost extinct!"

It was only when the guard managed to hit him with 'stupefy' and the lights began to grow dim did he give in. The world was growing dark, witches and wizards still pounding on the glass. Too late, he realised that they had succeeded; he had become an animal and had nothing to show for it.