Hostageby Molly Raesly Act One:
Kidnap
"James! Where are you?" Sirius yelled. Panic was evident in his shaking voice. He looked around for a glimpse of his the unkempt head of his friend. Sirius waved his lit wand around frantically to have a better view in the dim forest. All he could see were trees and the mossy soil.
"Relax, Sirius," laughed James, pulling off his invisibility cloak and suddenly appearing where just a bunch of air had been.
Sirius, startled, placed a hand over his chest and staggered backwards into a tree. "Bloody hell, mate!" he exclaimed. "I thought you got dead or something."
"Got dead?" repeated James with amusement. He stuffed the invisibility cloak into his robes as he smirked at his friend.
"Or something," insisted Sirius.
James shrugged and grinned rascally at his friend. "Is Sirius Black afraid to be alone in the big, bad Forbidden Forest?" he teased.
"No!" yelped Sirius defensively as he crossed his arms across his chest obstinately. "I was just worried that some vampire was going to bite you, and you'd be stuck being a pale pansy for the rest of your life. Next time, I'll just send up some sparks and point the little fiend right to your jugular."
"Thanks, Sirius," laughed James. "You're a good friend."
"I was not scared," Sirius assured him.
"You were scared."
"Was not!"
"Yes, you were!"
"Was-"
"Will you two prats shut up?" a voice hissed from behind them.
James spun around on his heels and reached for his wand. He relaxed when he saw the two intruders.
"Remus, Pete, you guys nearly gave me a bloody heart attack," said James, relieved.
"Aha! So now you're the scared one!" Sirius gloated triumphantly.
"Not so loud!" Remus urged him in a hushed voice. He shot a cautious look over his shoulder.
"What's got your knickers in a twist, Moony?" asked Sirius, unworried. "It's the middle of the night. There's no way for any of the teachers to know that we felt like taking a stroll."
"In the Forbidden Forest," Peter added with a grin.
"Well, what's the fun of doing something if you're actually allowed to do it?" replied Sirius, his eyes full of mischief.
"Something's not right," Remus told him. "I feel like we're being watched."
"Remus, you worry too much," James sighed. "You need to loosen up a bit."
"Yeah, mate," Sirius agreed. "This is pretty mild for us. We're just taking a walk outside. We're not even running. Hell, we're not even illegally transforming into animals. Well," he paused to smirk wickedly. "Some of us transform into animals," he corrected himself with a wolfish grin. "Some of us turn into wimpy deer and rats."
"I'm a stag!" James disputed loudly.
Sirius scoffed. "You have a little tail, you eat grass, and you prance around. You're a girly, little deer, mate."
"A stag!" yelled James.
"Guys!" interrupted Remus loudly.
They heard a rumble in the trees. It sounded like leaves being crunched or a branch being moved. Either way, someone, or something, was moving around. James felt the muscles in his shoulders tense up. He looked around vigilantly. The forest was just as dark and as ominous as it always was. They were not in centaur territory, so he wondered what could possibly be following them. Obviously, looking at Remus fumbling for his wand, it was not a full moon, so he did not need to worry about werewolves. His mind sorted through various magical creatures, concentrating on the ones that had especially sharp teeth.
James continued listening. All he could hear was the sounds of their breathing coming out in disjointed pants. He doubted anyone could be following them so unobtrusively as to be inaudible and indiscernible. After all, he was the only one with an invisibility cloak.
"Guys," reasoned James, using his normal speaking tone. His lips turned upwards into a complacent smile. "There's nobody here. It's the middle of the night, and we're in the middle of the bloody Forbidden Forest. Who would follow us? Who would want to follow us?"
"Hey," Sirius rebutted. "There are some Third Year girls who would leave their warm beds to stalk me and love every minute of it."
"Sirius," Remus said pointedly. "You are in Seventh Year. Try to act like it," he recommended, making sure to pause in between each word for emphasis.
"It's not my fault I'm so desirable," gloated Sirius, running a hand through his dark hair.
"Yes," Remus replied through gritted teeth. "I can barely contain myself."
"Well, maybe Peter…" mused James, feigning thoughtfulness.
"Git," Peter said to James.
"Sorry, Pete. It was just too bloody good to pass up," apologized James, shrugging as though that made it acceptable.
"Maybe we should head back to the castle," suggested Remus, who still looked twitchy and weary.
"Who are you, Lily Evans?" asked Sirius with a laugh when he noticed James's head jerk upwards at the name. "Seems like I've got Prongs's attention now. Too bad he can't get Evans's. It's been, what, seven years now?"
James nodded glumly, and Sirius snorted. "Seven years of pining and that girl still loves her Head Girl badge more than any bloke. Has she finally convinced you to see the light and become annoying goody-two-shoes who lives by the rules, James? It seems she got to Moony."
"Lily's not like that!' James rebutted. "She just likes doing the right thing and carrying on tradition."
"Yeah," muttered Sirius darkly. "And my dear old Mum thinks tradition is chopping off the heads of house-elves."
"Sirius, if we try to sort through all of your psychological wounds, we'll never leave this forest," interrupted Remus playfully.
"Too right you are," replied Sirius, smirking now.
"We probably should be heading back," said Peter, glancing down at his watch. A noise echoed from inside the forest, and he looked around in alarm. "I don't want to run into anything dangerous." His voice squeaked at the thought.
"Ahh, Wormtail, where's your sense of adventure?" asked James, grinning.
Suddenly, the rustling sound heightened as everything turned dark. James looked around anxiously for his friends, but he was too shrouded in darkness to make anything out.
"Sirius?" he called out, but no one answered. Frightened, James reached for his wand. He heard a low rumble that almost sounded like a laugh. James looked for the voice and raised his wand defensively as he prepared himself for an attack. All of his senses heightened as he felt the adrenaline rush through his body. James gripped his wand so tightly that he could feel the strain in his knuckles. He sensed movement on his left and turned swiftly to aim a curse at the impostor.
"He's got a wand!" someone yelled.
"Stupefy!"
Then, everything went black.
When James awoke, he could not see anything. He blinked several times as he tried to adjust to being awake. Eventually, James realized that there was some sort of material covering up his eyes, not that it was really necessary. He was practically blind without his glasses anyway. He attempted to remove the fabric, but he could not lift his hands. They were bound, he realized. They were bound and tied behind his back.
James tried to stand up, but he was unable to. Wiggling around, he discovered that he was currently sitting on a rough wooden chair that forced him to use proper posture. James wondered for how long he had been sitting. His legs were also tied tightly with rope to prevent him from escaping. The material forcing down his tongue prevented any speech or adequate breathing. Unable to see, move, or speak, James wondered whether he was alone.
The air stunk of mildew and mold. He could hear the slow drip of water coming from the ceiling. Perhaps there was water nearby. The room was cold, and James realized that someone had removed his shirt and robes. He shivered at the notion. His invisibility cloak had been in his left pocket along with his wand. He was defenseless, and he wanted his glasses back.
Time passed by very slowly for James. He could not tell if it had only been fifteen minutes or fifteen days that he had been sitting stiffly against the wooden chair. He was fairly certain that there was an enormous splinter in his right side. He winced at the thought. That would not be pleasurable to remove once he got out. If he got out of there, that wass.
Finally, James heard the sound of muffled footsteps coming towards him. He strained against his gag to make a sound. Not caring who it was, James merely wanted to alert someone of his presence. He needed to find out what was going on. Where was he? Who had brought him here? Where were Sirius, Remus, and Peter? Were they okay? The questions flooded his brain.
He felt the gag being ripped away from his mouth. Blood was forming in the cracks of his chapped lips. James sucked the air greedily. It was stale and humid and unpleasant, but he breathed hungrily. He craved water more than anything. James sputtered for a few seconds as he attempted to speak.
"Water," he croaked. He was not sure who was there, but it did not matter.
"Nuh-uh-uh-uh, Potter," he heard a voice chastise playfully. "You don't get water until I'm through with you."
The voice sounded slimy and pretentious. James figured it was someone in a position of power, or at least, someone with delusions of grandeur.
"Who are you?" James demanded. "Where am I? Where are my friends?"
"So many questions," the voice replied back. "You are really not in a position to be so difficult, Potter. I don't appreciate your tone. I should probably teach you a lesson."
James felt a gloved hand strike his face. His left cheek stung, and James attempted to return the blow but he could not move against his restraints.
"I've got you now, Potter," the man said. "There's no way to escape. You're trapped. You're our prisoner. I can do anything I want to you. Before the day is through, I can have you screaming for death. If you're good, I might even grant you your wish."
The man's face was close to James's, and he could feel his putrid breath against his nose. It was repulsive.
"Lucius," James heard another voice say warningly. This one was higher-pitched. It sounded more apprehensive than the first.
James thought to himself. He remembered his father talking about a Lucius Malfoy once. Apparently, he was always trying to cause a ruckus at the Ministry and intruding upon his father's auror cases. James could even remember his appearance vaguely. He could recall snickering at the absurdity of a grown man with that long of blonde hair. It made him look like a girl.
"C'mon," the first voice, who was apparently Lucius Malfoy, urged. "A little disobedience should not go without a little punishment."
"You heard what the Dark Lord said. He is to remain unspoiled until he has had a chance to speak with him. We're only supposed to make sure he's awake."
"I'm not going to kill him," Lucius replied slowly. James could imagine his oily lips smirking into a smile. "I just wanted to have a bit of fun."
"No. Orders are orders. We do not disobey the Dark Lord."
James was surprised at the decisiveness of his tone. James had never heard of a "Dark Lord" before. For all he knew, it could have been any bloke in the entire world. Hell, Peter could have been running around calling himself a Dark Lord, and no one would have been any the wiser. However, the reverence in the second man's voice made James believe this was not some casual prat in dark robes. Whoever this "Lord" was, he had followers who respected him and would carry out his orders. Instinctively, James knew this was not a good combination.
He struggled against his binds. Even without his wand, he could probably find some way to escape. He was the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and they were only two men. If he could manage to take them by surprise, he could probably escape relatively unharmed. James began to form his plan as the men continued to argue. He would knock out Lucius first and then attack the next man. James clawed at the rope around his wrists, but he could not break it. They must have been reinforced magically. James tried to undo the bindings around his ankles, but they were just as impenetrable. The entire time, James listened acutely for even the slightest suggestion of where he was or who was in charge of brining him here.
"Malfoy! Leave this room now! It is not your ruddy job to interrogate the hostage!"
"Don't you ever tell me what to do, McNair! I outrank you!"
"Only in your own mind! The Dark Lord will not be pleased when I tell him about this!"
"You wouldn't dare! I have done nothing to the boy!"
"You were only supposed to make sure he was awake! You were ready to hex him!"
"Correction, you were about to hex him. I was the one who was trying to stop you," Lucius corrected him in a satisfied tone.
"He will see through you! He knows when people lie! He can see inside your mind!"
James blanched. Who was this person? How was he so powerful? Why did they fear him so much? Could he really read people's thoughts? James knew that Legillimancy was a branch of magic, but he never knew of anyone who had actually practiced it. It had been forgotten many years ago along with the other dark forms of magic. He, himself, had only stumbled upon the subject when he and Sirius had been accidentally searching through the Restricted Section of the school library for a good prank to use on the Slytherins.
"The Dark Lord will not question my loyalty. Leave now before I do something I won't regret later."
"Malfoy, you-"
"Silence!" a cold voice hissed. It was new to James's ears. His body shivered involuntarily at the sound of it. His entire body felt cold. The voice filled James with a sense of dread, and he was not one to be easily frightened.
"You two pathetic pieces of vermin," the harsh voice sounded again. "I expected more from you. I told you to greet our guest, not to argue like blundering fools in front of him. I can hear you. I can always hear you. Why do you disrespect me so and in front of our visitor? Are you no longer loyal to your master? Would you like me to end your services?"
The voice was calm, but there was a hint of malice behind the threatening words. James swallowed hard. He had expected the leader to yell or scream. For some reason, his polite, eerie tone scared James more than anything else. His hands began to sweat, but he tried to stay as still as possible. He wanted to remain unseen.
"No!" the second voice replied timidly.
"No, master," answered Lucius, his voice thick with obedience.
James immediately imagined him bowing down submissively in front of this dangerous man. The man in question would be tall and muscular. He would look like he could kill you with his bare hands but would not have the need to do so. No, this man would never need to do anything for himself. Perhaps, he would have a mustache.
"Imbeciles," the harsh voice ridiculed. "I gave you a simple job, and you both failed to perform it. I should kill you both where you stand."
"Please, master," Lucius whimpered. "Have mercy."
"Silence!" the leader commanded. "You do not have the right to speak to me."
The two men remained silent. James wished he could see their faces to measure how much trouble he was in.
"Explain yourselves," the voice demanded.
"We were wrong," Lucius stated meekly. "We wanted to help you, but we were wrong. We will not disobey you again, master. We are sorry."
"And you? Are you repentant for your sins against me?" the leader asked.
"Always, master. I live to serve you," the second voice replied.
"I will not forget this incident, nor will I blindly accept your apologies. However, for now, I will allow your punishments to wait. It is of no matter to me when you die. I don't like to rush simple pleasures. Besides, I wanted to speak to young James myself."
James felt the muscles in his neck, shoulders, legs, and fingers tense up. He was sure it was clearly evident without the protection of his shirt. The mirthless laugh from the voice confirmed his fears.
"How rude of me," he said. "I have been neglecting our guest. Remove the blindfold."
James's jaw tensed as he felt rough hands reaching for the material around his face. Once the fabric was removed, James had to blink several times before he could adjust to the light. He must have been down here for a very long time, especially as hungry and thirsty as he was.
He glanced around the chamber. It was dark and green from the fungus growing on the walls. Everything was hazy and unclear without his glasses. Water leaked everywhere, and he could spot several spiders crawling around on the floor. His chair was the only furniture in the tight cell. There were metal bars inhibiting him from leaving. It was so rudimentary. James had the sudden urge to take a bath. Eventually, his eyes settled on the man, whom James assumed to be the leader.
"Ahh, it's nice to see you, James," the voice said in a slippery tone. "Leave now," he said to the two men, who left immediately without uttering a single word.
James looked up just in time to see a bit of blonde hair disappear behind a corner. He then turned his attention upwards to the leader. He held back a gasp. The man was tall, yes, but could not be considered menacing in physical stature. His head was bald, and his skin was pallid. James could not help but notice that Sirius would have teased this bloke relentlessly for his squished-looking nose. Honestly, he could not be that threatening with that snoz.
"I wouldn't think that if I was you," the man told him. He did not smile, but his voice sounded amused.
James suddenly was afraid. If he could really read minds, there was no telling what else this man could do. He had followers who obeyed him, he had the luxury of not being bound, and most of all, he had a wand. James was doomed.
"Ahh, fear," the man commented lightly. "Very good, James. A wise emotion. Don't worry, I can make all your fears go away."
"Who are you?" James asked. He sounded too hoarse to be himself.
The man laughed coldly. "I am Lord Voldemort."
Even despite the imminent threat of torture and possibly death, James could not control himself. He snorted. "Seriously?" he asked. "That's kind of a rubbish name. Why didn't you go with something cooler, like Captain Evil?"
The Lord fellow chose to ignore James's comment and started to creep towards him so that his eyes were level with his prisoners. "I hope that one day you will refer to me as 'The Dark Lord.'"
"I'm not very religious. Sorry, mate," James quipped back. Internally, he cursed himself for being so flippant. It was a reflex he had developed from being a Marauder. Still, as long as he was going to die, he might as well have a bit of fun. James had never liked authority figures.
"James, I wish you wouldn't say that. I have plans for you."
"I have plans too," James told him. "And, oddly enough, they don't involve you." James realized that the longer he kept the man talking, the longer he would have to try and think up an escape plan. Plus, at least he could give himself a few more minutes to live. "How do you know who I am, anyway?"
"James, do you know anything about the Department of Mysteries?" The Voldemort fellow smiled unnaturally like he was pleased by the conversation as he ignored James's question.
James wondered if he had imagined this very conversation in his head. His servants had known exactly where to find him. They must have been planning this for a long time. "Yeah, my dad mentioned it once. Why?" James asked suspiciously.
"In the Department, there resides the Hall of Prophecies."
"You mean, like telling the future?" James scoffed. "I never liked Divination."
"There was one prophecy, in particular, that is of much importance to me. I suppose one could say that it is my destiny."
"What does this have to do with me?" asked James, confused.
"Everything." The word sounded enigmatic coming from the leader's lips.
James stared at him blankly and waited for him to continue. He worried that he was not being respectful or frightened enough. The man obviously appeared to have a lot of power, or at least he thought he did. Yet, James had no clue whom he was. Why should you fear someone you've never even heard of?
"The prophecy's ending is unknown to me. I have reason to believe you might know its full contents."
James blinked. The man's face was still just a fuzzy outline without his glasses. "I have no idea what you're talking about, mate," he said truthfully.
"Don't lie to me, boy," Voldemort demanded. "What has Dumbledore told you? I know he's heard the prophecy!"
"I have no ruddy clue what you are saying, and even if I did, I wouldn't sell out Dumbledore to you!" James yelled back.
"Don't tempt me!"
"I don't have anything to tell you!"
"Crucio!"
James screamed. His body had never felt such pain before. There were knives everywhere, cutting him, slicing him, stabbing him. Hot flashes of pain stretched across every bit of his skin as though he had fallen into lava. His entire body shook and clenched from the pain. A bright light flashed before his eyes, and all he could concentrate on was the agony he felt. Then, suddenly it stopped. The sound of James's heavy breathing filled the room.
"Tell me what Dumbledore's planning! What does it have to do with you and the Mudblood redhead?"
"Leave Lily out of this!" James yelled. "She's done nothing wrong! Hurt me! Don't hurt her!"
"So, there is something involving the two of you. I knew it. Love makes man a fool."
"I'll kill you before you can even touch her," James threatened as he thrashed against his bindings. He mentally performed hexes in his head. He did not have a wand, but he had to fight back somehow. Maybe if he just concentrated hard enough, a miracle could occur.
"I'd like to see you try, boy," Voldemort sneered as he caressed his wand thoughtfully. "Then it is as I suspected, Dumbledore is trying to keep the two of you safe. But, why? What did he tell you?"
James did not answer. He stared vacantly at Voldemort, who was becoming more livid by the second.
"Tell me!"
Again, James merely stared. He refused to think any answers in his head. He just kept repeating the foulest curse words that he could think up.
Voldemort walked up to James chair and slammed his arms on the sides of it. He brought his face far too close to James's. "Tell me what you know."
"Bite me," James replied caustically.
"Crucio!"
Impossibly, the pain doubled the second time. All James could feel was the torture his body was somehow enduring. Everything was on fire. The pain was everywhere. Every cell was being ripped apart. His lungs ached to scream, but he refused to emit a single sound. He bit down on his tongue and desperately tried to concentrate on other things. He thought of Quidditch, his parents, his friends, and Lily. He focused everything bit of his remaining energy thinking about how much he wanted to kiss Lily Evans before he died. After a lifetime, the pain ended again. However, James could feel the ghosts of burns and wounds everywhere. It was only slightly more tolerable now.
His breath was coming out in forced pants every second. His entire body was shaking and covered in a sheen of sweat. His teeth were chattering in his mouth as his fingertips rattled uncontrollably at his side. James had never been tortured before, and he quickly found that it was not his cup of tea. Well, at least he could keep his humor in times of distress.
"Are we done yet? I was planning on lounging around by the lake today," James croaked out defiantly.
Voldemort's eyes ignited with fury. He struck James across the face with the back of his left hand. It caused James's mouth to begin bleeding. James resisted the urge to spit it on the man's shoes. His mum would have a fit if he was that disrespectful, even if the man was torturing him.
"Why you insolent, moronic, little boy! How dare you speak to me that way! I am Lord Voldemort!"
"What does that even mean?" James asked. He mentally cursed himself. Why could he not stop trying to infuriate the man who was torturing him? His mother had always told him he never had an ounce of tact. Oh Merlin, his mum. What would she do when she found out her only son was dead? James sat up straighter in his chair. He would find a way out of this.
"Perhaps, my name will mean more to you once I've killed you," threatened Voldemort, brandishing his wand.
"Master, don't!" shrieked a high-pitched voice.
Both James and Voldemort whipped their heads to see a dark-haired girl reaching out to her master from the other side of the bars. She would have been pretty if she had not been wearing so much makeup. Her eyes were shrouded in enough dark liner that she looked like a ghost.
"Bellatrix, this does not concern you," stated Voldemort coldly as he turned his attention and his wand back to James.
"Master, do not kill the boy," she urged him as she leaned against the bars.
"Why shouldn't I?" He caressed his wand as he looked greedily at James. "He dared to defy me! I do not allow such behavior."
"But, master, you need the information. He knows what the old buffoon is planning. He can be coerced."
"He has been tortured, and yet he remains unhelpful. I do not like those who do not want to help my cause." He turned his back fully to her and focused his blood red eyes back onto James.
"He can be persuaded, master. I have an idea. Please, consider it. I know how to break this boy. I can help you. I always want to help you," the girl whispered in an almost worshipping tone.
James wondered how long they had been dating.
Suddenly, Voldemort smiled beatifically. "Ahh, Bella, the way your mind works," he hissed appreciatively. "You are right. I will not kill this boy…for now. You may do whatever you like with him for the next few hours."
The dark-haired girl smiled evilly. James grimaced in response.
"Thank you, master."
"Just don't kill him, yet," Voldemort warned her. "I want to be the one who sees the light leave his eyes."
