Quinta essentia
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter, I have just borrowed them without permission, but with every intention of ...
Now look what the cat dragged in
3 weeks after the end of Harry's fifth school year, things look worse than ever and that says a lot for someone like Harry Potter. Even after all the time of silent grief and mourning not even disturbed by the Dursleys, he still has not come to terms with Sirius' death. Lying on his back in Dudley's spare room he stares blankly at the bars in front of the window, his thoughts so far away that he is not even aware of his relatives' existence. Just when he thinks for the umpteenth time in this month that life could not get any worse, a message arrives carried by an unfamiliar barn owl:
'Potter,
hand yourself over or your cat loving neighbour will die.'
Even though he has never seen the hand writing, Harry does not need a signature to guess who would be behind such a demand. Only death eaters would have an interest and threaten with killing people.
Thinking of Mrs. Figg and her cats a shudder runs down his spine, not another person to lose their life for him, first his parents – even though he cannot remember that event, unless he is surrounded by a hoard of dementors – then Cedric and now Sirius, his godfather, the closest person to a parent he has had in his life yet. Following that trail of thought makes tears well up in his eyes, even though he tries to suppress them. Ifhe would not react, who would be next, maybe Ron or Hermione?
No, he could not live with another death weighing on his conscience, he would put an end to it; if Voldemort wanted him, then he'd get him. Finally having made the decision, he feels a little bit more light-hearted; soon it would be over, one way or the other. If the prophecy is right then he could win by means of whatever power Tom Riddle knew nothing about. Otherwise he doubts that he would be better prepared to face the dark wizard after another year of standard magical education than he would be now, after all it was rather unlikely they would introduce the class 'How to defeat Dark Lords' just for him.
The Dursleys left the house some hours ago, also leaving him to his lethargy and unresponsive grief. Thus sneaking out of the house is no problem and soon he makes his way down Privet Drive unnoticed by anyone in the neighbourhood. They are probably all out on a lovely Sunday afternoon like today, just like the Dursley.
Finally he stands in front of Mrs. Figg's door and knocks carefully at first then a little more purposefully. No one should say a Gryffindor would not walk to death with his head held high.
The door opens and none other than Mrs. Figg herself is standing in the door frame, looking a little perplexed, but none as dumbstruck as Harry.
'Harry, dear, what are you doing here?', the elderly lady asks him with a friendly twinkle in her eyes. Before the teenager has a chance to answer though, her eyes widen in shock, while she is staring at something behind Harry. Whipping around as fast as can be expected from an experienced Quidditch player, his mouth drops in surprise and horror, when seeing none other than Bellatrix Lestrange with 4 other Death Eaters standing in front of him. The madwoman is grinning gleefully, while keeping her wand trained at his face.
'Now look what the cat dragged in. I knew my little note would lure you out of your hole, Potter. You Gryffindors are just so predictable,' her cackling laughter at that statement makes goose bumps spring on his arms. 'Just like my dear late cousin, Sirius.'
With a roar of pure hatred Harry jumps at her, but a swift flick of her wand makes him fly backwards through the door, where Mrs. Figg is still standing. As they both land on the floor, the death eaters do not hesitate a moment to let ropes spring out of their wands to bind their prisoners.
'Crabbe, take the Squib! Goyle, you carry Potter. Make sure you don't lose your delivery on the way to our Lord!', Bellatrix barks the commands at her assistants, before spinning to apparate herself to the side of her master.
Only seconds later, Harry and Arabella Figg join them in the circle of Death Eaters. Voldemort himself is seated on a throne in the centre of the room, his red reptilian eyes gleaming with horrifying joy at the sight of his prisoners. His thin mouth cracks into an evil grin, as he declares to the gathered death eaters: 'Ladies and Gentlemen, we are deeply honoured to find that Harry Potter has decided to join us for some time, I will hope you will make his stay as pleasant' – he pronounced the word with all possible venom and sarcasm – 'as possible, lest he get a false impression of our hospitality. To give you an example, let me be the first to welcome you, Potter. Crucio.'
Immediately indescribable pain runs through Harry's whole body, while he writhes on the floor screaming out loudly. After a few seconds, less than Harry would have expected, Voldemort lifts the spell, grinning at his followers encouragingly.
'Now let the fun begin!'
Just as that statement is made, another death eater arrives, quickly stepping towards the throne, bowing low before Lord Voldemort and kissing the hem of his robe before getting up again in one swift motion.
Severus Snape is quite annoyed as well as worried, why would the megalomaniac summon him during the bright day, he is a creature of the shadows and the night – the title Dark Lord has more than one deserved reason after all. This step would not be taken, unless the megalomaniac has become so vain to simply want show his power over his minions, because he can – very annoying indeed – or something important has happened that the Dark Lord wishes to share with them all – worrying, as in his experience this usually has ended in some horrifying event, torture, murder or something else Bella would consider quite pleasurable.
Before his quick demonstration of devotion to the much-hated creature he has had no time to check for the reason for today's meeting. He lets his eyes glide through the room quickly, taking in as much as possible, while silkily apologising for his late arrival, blaming it on the distance he has to cover to reach the border of Hogwarts' wards, his usual excuse, Dumbledore makes such a good scapegoat in the Dark Lord's eyes after all.
Only years of mastering self-control under the hardest of circumstances keep him from showing any sign of shock, when seeing Arabella Figg lying on the floor, next to a still slightly shaking Harry Potter. Now you'll have to keep your nerve, Severus and act through this, or will are all doomed.
When hearing his voice, both prisoners have started to look at him intently. Slowly he turns to face them, while putting on his trademark sneer that serves as much as a mask as the dark one that is part of the death eaters' outfit. 'Now look, what the cat dragged in.' he pronounces venomously, while pretending cruel curiosity at staring them down.
Suddenly he sees Bella emerge from the circle around the supposed victims shrieking in malicious joy, 'It was me, who brought them here, when you have failed to locate him, although you're such a trusted member of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix,' she gloats, her mad eyes bright with glee. 'I had the idea of bullying Fletcher, that worthless thief, into sending a note with an order owl that could reach Potter and he really came, just as I thought he would; all Gryffindors do that.' Merlin, why had they never thought of that, Fletcher had always been a weak spot. Entrusting that spineless vermin with the knowledge of Potter's whereabouts was certainly a grave mistake of Albus' judgement.
'SILENCE', the Dark Lord's high-pierced shout shakes him out of his musings. Under different circumstances he would have smirked at Bella's flinch at the outraged tone of her master. But with Potter lying on the floor of an old manor, shivering from the Cruciatus curse, he has more urgent worries than petty quarrels with the 'Mistress of Distress'. Something had to be done quickly.
'Severus, take your place,' the creature hisses, 'We will first dispose of the squib to give Potter a foretaste.'
If it had only been Arabella Figg, Severus might have tried starting some witty argument to ensure her survival for long enough to give the Order a chance to rescue her. But right now Harry Potter is his number one priority, getting him out alive is all that matters. Therefore he complies, takes his place in the circle and frantically searches for a chance to slip Potter the Portkey that he carries around for cases of emergency – and this is a case of emergency if I've ever seen one – all that without the Dark Lord or any of the Death Eaters noticing.
Again the cruel words sound through the hall, 'Let the fun begin!'
Several curses and hexes are thrown at Harry and Mrs. Figg and even though Severus silently tries to counteract some of those, he cannot spare them the full brunt. After just a few minutes that seem like hours to the Potion Master the Dark Lord raises his hand and every single Death Eater in the room lowers his respectively her wand immediately. Potter lies panting and gasping on his side, while Arabella is whimpering softly from the pain, blood and spittle dripping from her mouth, where she must have bitten through her tongue.
'Enough of these petty games. Avadra Kedavra.' Everyone is completely rigid as the green light hurtles towards the elderly woman and makes her crumple to the floor lifelessly.
Harry is staring at Voldemort in stunned silence as he hears the killing curse uttered and sees the green light flying in his direction. This is it.
But then to his horror Mrs. Figg collapses beside him, dead just like Cedric Diggory. At that moment Harry feels something inside him break. Not caring about his pain or injuries he jumps to his feet, screaming at the top of his lungs, 'NO, NOT AGAIN. HOW MANY PEOPLE DO YOU HAVE TO KILL BEFORE IT'S ENOUGH?'
A curse from the Dark Lord's wand hits him straight in the chest and he is thrown backwards, gasping for air.
'Milord, unless you intend to rid the world of the Potter whelp here and now, giving him some medical treatment would be advisable, if you still intend to fight him in a duel,' he hears the silky voice of Severus Snape comment. SNAPE, the bastard, who is responsible for Sirius' death, who is supposed to be Dumbledore's trusted spy, yet what has he done, when they have needed him? NOTHING. I hate him as much as Voldemort, he should have saved Mrs. Figg and me, but he has done nothing, probably even enjoyed it.
During his musings he has missed the first part of Voldemort's order, '… treat him, Severus.' Harry can sense someone stepping next to him; it can only be Snape, who is bending down on his knee. 'Potter, take this', Snape half-whispers. But Harry is far too angry to comply. 'I don't take anything that you give me, you treacherous bastard.' He grabs the bottle the man has tried to press into his hand, while holding another bottle to his mouth, and throws it away.
The small vial flies towards the circle of death eaters and finally rolls right in front of Bellatrix Lestrange's feet. Carefully she bends down and picks it up, while eyeing it suspiciously. He can feel Snape beside him tense almost imperceptibly.
'A portkey.', she hisses venomously.
Suddenly all hell breaks loose around Harry. At Voldemort's command 'GET THEM!', all Death Eaters raise their wands again, this time pointing at the two of them. Snape shoves another potion violently down his throat, while muttering an incantation. The room around Harry slowly seems to blur and drift away, as he sees the Potion Master jump to his feet throwing curse after curse at his attackers, while swiftly dodging hexes thrown towards him. One of the curses that Snape manages to avoid sends two of the death eaters flying through the air, knocking down several others, before finally coming to lie on the floor unconsciously. Never would Harry have dreamed that the greasy dungeon dweller could have such quick reflexes, dodging curses with almost catlike speed and grace.
But still he is just one man against a whole room full of death eaters. Before Harry completely disappears from the room a curse from behind strikes him – obviously Voldemort has decided to join the fight –and with a gasp of pain the skinny man collapses to his knees.