Light, blinding bloody light! Killing its vision as it flooded his small
cell. It hurt, but he refused to close his eyes. He would not show weakness
to them. This hell, he would survive this; he had survived similar. The
cell wasn't too small, only a bit smaller than his pantry had been. Maybe
he couldn't move in here, his arms hugging his legs against himself with
his feet against the wall. Not too small for him, not at all too small.
Who was he kidding? This cell was hell in small box, literally. It was even sometimes hot for some reason unknown to him. Right now, it was freezing but cool air was coming from the opening. When the cool air touched his naked flesh, he shivered from the non-extreme of it. It was the first not extreme thing in this cell since he had been here.
Into the cell came a hand, covered in slightly warm leather gloves he found when it grabbed him and pulled him out into the light.
Two dark shadows stood over him, thankfully shadowing his eyes from the dark. Their faces never became clear, though the masks covering them and their black robes did. Death eaters. His eyes briefly closed his eyes as he grimaced. He had guessed, but that had not stopped the glimmer of hope of it being something, someone else other than Voldemore. But, it was Voldemore's minions standing over him, probably with smirks under the masks.
He tried to wrestle his arm away from the leather glove. The grip was too much for Harry's weak body. He was trapped there as the gloved hand rose, raising him with it.
"This is the famous Harry Potter? Sure doesn't look that tough," the one holding him barked. Harry tried getting away again, or at least cover himself. A blush he fought upon releasing he was naked, completely and hanging by his arm for the Death Eaters to see all.
The other death eater shrugged and turned to walk away down the rock hallway. A hand motioned for the gloved one to come. With a shrug, jarring Harry's body too hurting more then it was, the gloved one followed, Harry dragged behind them.
The death eaters walked through more hallways, more then half dragging the trying to walk but instead stumbling Harry. The passages got wider as the walls became fancier, from wallpaper to even ratty, old wall hangings. Harry tried not to think where he was going, whom he would meet, the pain his body screamed, what was happening to him, and everything else painful. He also banished all thoughts of good things; he would not contaminate the memories with this hell.
Pop quizzes, forgotten homework, being found in the girl's restroom after talking to Moaning Myrtle, Snape's class... The though of Snape reminded him again where he was, with Death Easters. Was Snape here or know of this? Maybe he would tell Dumbledore and save Harry. A small hope came into Harry at the thought. Maybe they already discovered he was a traitor. The hope lessoned but did not go away totally. There was a chance that he would not die.
The Death Eaters stopped in front of a door. He recognized it, though could not place it. The door swung upon, a man who Harry recognized, Peter Petegrew. His nose flared as he glared. That rat, he had something to do with this.
The blush he had before left, as his face grew white. His scar had flashed up in a burning rage, more than it had been before. The man sitting in the chair, just as he had glanced it somewhere before, that man was starring at him. Voldemore.
A bony white hand waved the Death Eaters and Harry foreword. Giving up, Harry closed his eyes. He did not want to look at him, even if it meant giving in a small thing.
"Wash him, and prepare him," said the scratchy voice, not really there but there.
The two Death Eaters looked slightly until Petegrew whispered something in their air that sent them scrambling back, dragging Harry with them.
Another door he soon came too, a bathroom he saw when they opened the door.
The men plopped him into the old fashioned bathtub. He shivered as they filled it with freezing water -- his body had already started getting used to the warm air. The man scrubbed his body with rough clothes, taking off the effects of days in a cell without a bathroom. A faint sent of fetishes came from the yellow, brown water.
The smell wasn't what he hated. The men's hands, scrubbing his body, taking away the little privacy left, that was almost the worst. The worst was the reaction his body had to the gloved man playing with him. Shame filled him.
It's only from friction. He thought to himself, but it still, he couldn't stop. The man was purposely doing, he bet. Scumbag.
Finally, they deemed him clean enough and dragged him out of the tub. Upon looking at Harry closer, the other Death Eater chuckled a bit and whispered something to the other. Harry snarled inside him. All Death Eaters were scumbag.
He was taken to another room of boiling cauldrons and another, slightly fat, Death Eater. Harry was left alone with the new one after the old ones left after chatting with the new one.
Another hell, he thought as he looked around. He didn't want to know what the man was making, but it smelled horrid and kind of like blood and gore. The man was chuckling softly to himself.
"Lay over there," The man mumbled and pointed to the bed, table thing that Harry laid down on.
The previous thoughts of things not too bad came back. The man continued his potion.
"Ah there, done finally. Yes, yes, this shall work, this shall work. Master will be pleased." The man handed Harry a cup of the thing. "Drink, kid. It's not permanent.... You need to drink it all, or master will be angry. Yes, drink it all or else."
Harry gulped the potion down, pretending to not notice the horrible taste.
Nothing at first, then a pain, starting from the groin region and traveling upward. He wanted to scream, but he could not. It hurt too much for anything. Then, the real pain started.
He screamed as he felt his body twisting from the inside, changing on both outside and in. Bones shifted, as well fat. His lower stomack was the worst. It felt like someone was carving a cave there and twisting everything up and different.
He passed out from the pain.
Pain...
Agony...
Hurts...
Mummy, help me, even though you are dead...
His eyes snapped open with the thought of his mother.
His body, it still hurt but not as much as before his sleep. A dull throb compared to the agony before, it was. He could handle this, and he would.
Something was wrong. Totally twisted and not right, and in his body. That potion, what had it down?
Harry almost fainted again when he opened his eyes. Harry was not Harry anymore, or at least the body wasn't. The sight: small breasts, like an athlete's, covered by his long brown hair. Reaching down, he felt that he was also a she down there two.
He would kill all the Death Eaters, the scumbags.
Harry flopped back down a bed. It wasn't the bed from before. The room, and the bed, seemed to have come from a badly written romance novel. Silken sheats surrounded his hurt body as he looked over at the red curtains-- there was no windows though--and down at the red rug and around at the other red odds and ends.
"Great, first a horror film, now a bad romance novel. Just perfect," he muttered to himself.
"You will." Harry's eyes widened at the slightly muffled voice leaking into the room.
"Why me?" He recognized this voice. Snape, he was here. Was he here to save Harry maybe?
"Ask Master. He just said you had to do it." He recognized this voice now. Draco's great father was speaking.
Harry's hope dropped.
"But, I do not like girls like that," Snape said to Harry's surprise. Snape was gay?
"Look, sex is sex. Just go in there and rape that girl's pussy, got it. I got other things to do." Lucius sounded annoyed.
The nest thing Harry heard was the door opening. Snape stood in the door, a snarl on his face.
"I'm sorry," Snape whispered in his ear before he begun. Harry turned his face away, trying to not think about what was happing to him.
Harry pretended to fall asleep when Snape finished, glad that no one saw his tears.
**
If you like it, Review and I might get the next part out in a week. ^_^
Don't worry.. Harry will not be a girl for too long...
Maybe I should not have read those Harry turns into a girl stories this weekend.. shrug
Who was he kidding? This cell was hell in small box, literally. It was even sometimes hot for some reason unknown to him. Right now, it was freezing but cool air was coming from the opening. When the cool air touched his naked flesh, he shivered from the non-extreme of it. It was the first not extreme thing in this cell since he had been here.
Into the cell came a hand, covered in slightly warm leather gloves he found when it grabbed him and pulled him out into the light.
Two dark shadows stood over him, thankfully shadowing his eyes from the dark. Their faces never became clear, though the masks covering them and their black robes did. Death eaters. His eyes briefly closed his eyes as he grimaced. He had guessed, but that had not stopped the glimmer of hope of it being something, someone else other than Voldemore. But, it was Voldemore's minions standing over him, probably with smirks under the masks.
He tried to wrestle his arm away from the leather glove. The grip was too much for Harry's weak body. He was trapped there as the gloved hand rose, raising him with it.
"This is the famous Harry Potter? Sure doesn't look that tough," the one holding him barked. Harry tried getting away again, or at least cover himself. A blush he fought upon releasing he was naked, completely and hanging by his arm for the Death Eaters to see all.
The other death eater shrugged and turned to walk away down the rock hallway. A hand motioned for the gloved one to come. With a shrug, jarring Harry's body too hurting more then it was, the gloved one followed, Harry dragged behind them.
The death eaters walked through more hallways, more then half dragging the trying to walk but instead stumbling Harry. The passages got wider as the walls became fancier, from wallpaper to even ratty, old wall hangings. Harry tried not to think where he was going, whom he would meet, the pain his body screamed, what was happening to him, and everything else painful. He also banished all thoughts of good things; he would not contaminate the memories with this hell.
Pop quizzes, forgotten homework, being found in the girl's restroom after talking to Moaning Myrtle, Snape's class... The though of Snape reminded him again where he was, with Death Easters. Was Snape here or know of this? Maybe he would tell Dumbledore and save Harry. A small hope came into Harry at the thought. Maybe they already discovered he was a traitor. The hope lessoned but did not go away totally. There was a chance that he would not die.
The Death Eaters stopped in front of a door. He recognized it, though could not place it. The door swung upon, a man who Harry recognized, Peter Petegrew. His nose flared as he glared. That rat, he had something to do with this.
The blush he had before left, as his face grew white. His scar had flashed up in a burning rage, more than it had been before. The man sitting in the chair, just as he had glanced it somewhere before, that man was starring at him. Voldemore.
A bony white hand waved the Death Eaters and Harry foreword. Giving up, Harry closed his eyes. He did not want to look at him, even if it meant giving in a small thing.
"Wash him, and prepare him," said the scratchy voice, not really there but there.
The two Death Eaters looked slightly until Petegrew whispered something in their air that sent them scrambling back, dragging Harry with them.
Another door he soon came too, a bathroom he saw when they opened the door.
The men plopped him into the old fashioned bathtub. He shivered as they filled it with freezing water -- his body had already started getting used to the warm air. The man scrubbed his body with rough clothes, taking off the effects of days in a cell without a bathroom. A faint sent of fetishes came from the yellow, brown water.
The smell wasn't what he hated. The men's hands, scrubbing his body, taking away the little privacy left, that was almost the worst. The worst was the reaction his body had to the gloved man playing with him. Shame filled him.
It's only from friction. He thought to himself, but it still, he couldn't stop. The man was purposely doing, he bet. Scumbag.
Finally, they deemed him clean enough and dragged him out of the tub. Upon looking at Harry closer, the other Death Eater chuckled a bit and whispered something to the other. Harry snarled inside him. All Death Eaters were scumbag.
He was taken to another room of boiling cauldrons and another, slightly fat, Death Eater. Harry was left alone with the new one after the old ones left after chatting with the new one.
Another hell, he thought as he looked around. He didn't want to know what the man was making, but it smelled horrid and kind of like blood and gore. The man was chuckling softly to himself.
"Lay over there," The man mumbled and pointed to the bed, table thing that Harry laid down on.
The previous thoughts of things not too bad came back. The man continued his potion.
"Ah there, done finally. Yes, yes, this shall work, this shall work. Master will be pleased." The man handed Harry a cup of the thing. "Drink, kid. It's not permanent.... You need to drink it all, or master will be angry. Yes, drink it all or else."
Harry gulped the potion down, pretending to not notice the horrible taste.
Nothing at first, then a pain, starting from the groin region and traveling upward. He wanted to scream, but he could not. It hurt too much for anything. Then, the real pain started.
He screamed as he felt his body twisting from the inside, changing on both outside and in. Bones shifted, as well fat. His lower stomack was the worst. It felt like someone was carving a cave there and twisting everything up and different.
He passed out from the pain.
Pain...
Agony...
Hurts...
Mummy, help me, even though you are dead...
His eyes snapped open with the thought of his mother.
His body, it still hurt but not as much as before his sleep. A dull throb compared to the agony before, it was. He could handle this, and he would.
Something was wrong. Totally twisted and not right, and in his body. That potion, what had it down?
Harry almost fainted again when he opened his eyes. Harry was not Harry anymore, or at least the body wasn't. The sight: small breasts, like an athlete's, covered by his long brown hair. Reaching down, he felt that he was also a she down there two.
He would kill all the Death Eaters, the scumbags.
Harry flopped back down a bed. It wasn't the bed from before. The room, and the bed, seemed to have come from a badly written romance novel. Silken sheats surrounded his hurt body as he looked over at the red curtains-- there was no windows though--and down at the red rug and around at the other red odds and ends.
"Great, first a horror film, now a bad romance novel. Just perfect," he muttered to himself.
"You will." Harry's eyes widened at the slightly muffled voice leaking into the room.
"Why me?" He recognized this voice. Snape, he was here. Was he here to save Harry maybe?
"Ask Master. He just said you had to do it." He recognized this voice now. Draco's great father was speaking.
Harry's hope dropped.
"But, I do not like girls like that," Snape said to Harry's surprise. Snape was gay?
"Look, sex is sex. Just go in there and rape that girl's pussy, got it. I got other things to do." Lucius sounded annoyed.
The nest thing Harry heard was the door opening. Snape stood in the door, a snarl on his face.
"I'm sorry," Snape whispered in his ear before he begun. Harry turned his face away, trying to not think about what was happing to him.
Harry pretended to fall asleep when Snape finished, glad that no one saw his tears.
**
If you like it, Review and I might get the next part out in a week. ^_^
Don't worry.. Harry will not be a girl for too long...
Maybe I should not have read those Harry turns into a girl stories this weekend.. shrug
