00 and 01 Veils, Rockets, and Bed Pans - Oh my!
12/15/08 -- 1413 words
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (Rowlings) or Pokemon (Tajiri and Nintendo).
AN: Been a while hasn't it? This semester sucked but I've got a month off now so expect an update for APT and SLK soon. I didn't realize quite how much I had for FSS so say hello to it now instead of at the end of the month. I'll rent the next disc of Yuyu Hakusho and see about whipping out the next chapter but to quote someone I don't remember - "It's like pulling teeth without painkillers."
Warnings: Minor swearing, minor violence, use of Japanese suffixes or words, bastardization of canon and pokemon.
Prologue-
Numb.
Remus Lupin was completely and utterly without feeling. Not physically, the cold and damp of the Death Room in the Department of Mysteries seeped into his bones; the hot tracks of his tears burned his cheeks. No, he was emotionally numb; a blasted wasteland of once warm emotion.
The teenager clasped in the werewolf's strong arm could only wish he felt as numb. Sickening fear, drowning sadness, and the twisting, burning fire of hate churned his insides. But, like a deceptively soothing balm, shock and denial blanketed his mind – freeing it of the paralysis that gripped his body.
"Sirius! No!"
Suddenly, the paralysis snapped and the boy was in motion, twisting out from under Remus' arm. He vaguely heard people shouting for him to stop, to come back. Ignoring the calls, he continued forward, down the amphitheater and up the raised dais in the center. Stopping momentarily at the sound of voices coming from the fluttering curtain, the teen glanced back once at the stalled fighting. Bellatrix Lestrange madly cackled part way up the amphitheater and with renewed resolve he ran into the veil. He didn't come back out.
Chapter 1-
Feeling was the first thing to return and it wasn't comfortable – in fact, quite the opposite. He was strapped to something hard, cold, and most likely metal. The aches normally attributed to sleeping on wood were missing and so were the kinks from stone. Bone deep aching, cold, and stiffness from solid metal wasn't, unfortunately. 'Damn.' Carefully flexing his limbs, assessing for damage while trying to remain unnoticed, he could feel where needles had been inserted none-too-gently. 'Well shit.' Panic hadn't set in yet – evidently the drugs were either very good or very strong.
The sickly astringent smell, long since associated with Madam Pomphrey's healing ward, assaulted him. Besides the disinfectant, there was no other scent so he either hadn't been here long or he had been long enough to require clean up. 'Hopefully the former.' The only sounds were his breathing and the annoying beeping of various machines. Evidently no one else was around.
He cautiously opened his eyes and barely bit back a pained groan. It felt like someone decided to stab him in the brain with ice picks. Thankfully, the pain dulled quickly so, the drugs were good for something besides keeping him docile. Glancing around him drew the conclusion that he was in a hospital room, a muggle hospital room. 'I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.'
Nobody was around and he couldn't locate any cameras so he took the opportunity presented to him and slipped out of the bed, careful not to remove any of the multiple needs and wires. His legs held strong so he turned his attention back to the wires and tried to figure out what they attached to – he especially needed to figure out which one was the heart monitor. Casting a quick prayer to any higher power not out to screw him, the teen removed everything except the clamp on his finger. If he was lucky that hospital drama Dudley had gotten into during the summer wasn't complete bullshit.
Silence.
Pure, beautiful, unadulterated quiet. The only interruption was the blessedly regular beep of the heart monitor. No blaring claxons, screaming sirens, or thundering feet. In other words, so far so good.
Getting a good look around, the boy noticed a mirror hanging on the wall by the door. Morbid curiosity rose up and he couldn't help but look.
He was pale and the flesh around his eyes looked bruised. Exhausted green eyes peered out from behind long black bangs that needed a trim; the infamous bolt scar on his forehead was invisible behind them. Shaggy black hair framed a strong face and fell to his shoulders. The circular glasses, almost as infamous as he was, were perched on his face – a red welt on the right of his face marked where he had slept on them. Although curious how they had survived, much less remained with him, the phrase "don't look a gift horse in the mouth," convinced him to not worry about it.
Wrenching his eyes away before he became maudlin Harry Potter looked around, hoping to find his clothes. He really didn't want to try escaping in hospital bottoms and gown. Of course, he was a firm believer that three quarters of all higher powers were out to get him and this just further cemented the black haired boy's beliefs. Not only could he not find his clothes, or any clothes at all, but his wand was no where to be found either. 'Who did I piss off in a past life?'
What to do, what to do? Stick around and wait for his captors to show up and do who knows what to him? Try escaping and hope the kid running around in a hospital gown didn't draw attention? Or, his least favorite but most probable option, trip the alarm and wait for someone to show up then bash them over the head and steal their clothes. Sometimes, Harry James Potter hated being a Gryffindor.
- - - - -
Twenty minutes, a couple of destroyed bed pans, and one change of clothes later, Harry had escaped the infirmary. His newly acquired uniform consisted of black pants and a black jacket with a large red 'R' on the front. The undershirt, boots, and gloves were all white. He had been pleased to find out that a black cap with standard issue and actually fit. During his little confrontation Harry learned his captors were called the Rockets, he was in the uniform of a grunt, and something strange was hidden in sub-basement level two, sector H-3. Their excitement over the mysterious object explained why Harry was trying to make his way down. Somewhere, in a dark corner of his mind, the idea that Sirius might be involved remained unvoiced for fear of jinxing himself and Sirius.
"Hey you! Grunt!"
'Why me? What, did I drown puppies in a past life? Is that why you hate me?'
"Oi, I'm talking to you!" The voice was gravelly with a natural air of command to it. It wasn't a happy voice.
Turning of his heel, the black haired escapee snapped a salute. "Sir! My mind was elsewhere, Sir!"
"Sir" was huge. Over six feet tall with a deep, barrel chest; his black trench coat was straining at the seams across his shoulders. He only needed to flex one beefy arm to rip the sleeve to shreds. Sir's belt had six small red and white balls attached to it. Harry figured they must mean something since even his captor had them but didn't know what.
"Don't let it happen again! This project is too important for some low-level grunt to be allowed to screw it up. What exactly are you doing up here?"
"Sir! I received a call for help subduing our 'guest' in the infirmary. We succeeded in tranquilizing him and I was just making my way back, Sir."
"Any significant injuries?"
"No Sir, just a few minor bruises. The 'guest' was sedated and restrained to the bed."
"Hmph, I see. I'll check on the situation later. Return to your post immediately grunt. Dismissed!"
Harry snapped a quick salute before turning and jogging down the way Sir came from. Let no man say Harry Potter couldn't have succeeded as a Slytherin. After all, every word out of his mouth had been the truth. The savior tilted his head down to hide the amused smirk on his face.
- - - - -
It took him another fifteen minutes and one dead end but he finally reached sub-basement two. A supervisor had found him almost immediately and ordered him to patrol section H-2. Harry had nodded in acknowledgment and was given direction before the super had noticed a different grunt, one with blue hair, and promptly gave chase.
The escapee 'patrolled' the section for over ten minutes, absently noting the door plaques. Jerking to a stop, he looked back. There, on the wall where a second corridor intersected, was a sign:
H-2 Rooms 211-223 North
H-2 Rooms 210-189 South
H-2 Rooms 257-269 West
H-3 Labs 1A-1D East
Harry looked around cautiously before trotting down the east hall. Now, he just had to find the right room.
So, tell me what you think. I've only been promising this for ages after all. Does it seem to live up to mine and your's expectations? Leave a review and let me know.
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