Disclaimer: Only Charisma belongs to me- the rest is courtesy of JK
Rowling.
A/N: Set right after Shattered Illusions. One of Charisma's dreams of her memory of that night.
Darkness. A gnawing pain so bad, she felt dizzy and seemed to be losing consciousness. She could feel her warm blood, staining her clothes and could hear the steady drip as it hit the stone floor. Glancing down, her blurred vision could just make out the shiny pointed instrument deeply imbedded in her stomach. Each breath was agonizing and seemed to take too much effort.
She wished it would end, but still she tried her best to look defiantly up at the smiling snake-like face in front of her. She'd never give up, just like her parents never gave up.
The numbing pain in her wrists from the shackles she hung from was obliterated, as the object in her stomach was wedged slightly deeper. She moaned in agony and bit her lip to stopper the scream that was edging to escape. She knew that was what Voldemort was waiting for: her submission. Her feet sagged, unable to support her weight any longer, causing the shackles to draw more blood, which ran down her pale arms.
An exasperated cry from Harry drew her eyes from the Dark Lord and she felt a pain in her heart, deeper than any physical infliction Voldemort could cause. Harry was in pain and there was nothing she could do. He looked at her with desperate eyes, fighting against his own shackles in an attempt to reach her. Turning her tear-stained face from him, unwilling to witness his pain, she looked over at her other friends. Charlie, Ron, and Hermione were all unconscious, tied to the same wall she was. Voldemort's high chilled voice rang through the night air.
"You see her suffering Harry. You know you could put an end to this suffering if you just tell me the name of the Chosen."
"I don't know who you're talking about. Your fight's with me just leave her alone." Harry's voice rang strong in the large stone room. Voldemort narrowed his eyes.
"Crucio." Harry's pain echoed through the room and Charisma's eyes watered.
"No," She rasped, her voice a hoarse whisper. Voldemort heard it and turned to her. Her anger quickly swelled in her chest and to her surprise, sparks flew from her clenched fists. Voldemort's eyes widened in comprehension and a terrible smile of devilish delight slithered across his face.
"My, my," Voldemort said softly. "All this time we've been searching for the Chosen and here she is, right under our nose. Tell me, girl," He asked, leaning closer to her, "What is your name?"
Charisma raised her head defiantly, ignoring Harry's shocked expression, and looked Voldemort straight in his red-slit eyes.
"My name is Charisma Andrews." He smiled gleefully before moving his hand to jamb the instrument deeper. Her whole body clenched with fear and pain and she heard Harry scream as a Death Eater performed the Cruciatus Curse on him. Her mind screamed and her body felt on fire before-
Charisma sat up gasping for breath, a scream on her lips. Her bed sheets were twisted around her small body. Her clothes stuck to her sweaty skin and her whole body was shaking. She felt incredibly sick and could feel tears falling down her face.
Stumbling to the bathroom, she fell in front of the toilet, her stomach wrenching from her memories. Wiping her mouth, she fell back on the floor, unable to keep her sobs from escaping. It was only a memory but it had felt as real as the cool tile beneath her.
Curling up on the bathroom floor, her dark hair matting on her damp face, she tried to stifle her cries, causing her wounded stomach to burn. Gripping her bandaged stomach with shaking hands, she could feel wetness from a ripped stitch. Blinding truth set in and she was left with a terrible feeling of desperation and apprehension for the days to come.
A/N: Set right after Shattered Illusions. One of Charisma's dreams of her memory of that night.
Darkness. A gnawing pain so bad, she felt dizzy and seemed to be losing consciousness. She could feel her warm blood, staining her clothes and could hear the steady drip as it hit the stone floor. Glancing down, her blurred vision could just make out the shiny pointed instrument deeply imbedded in her stomach. Each breath was agonizing and seemed to take too much effort.
She wished it would end, but still she tried her best to look defiantly up at the smiling snake-like face in front of her. She'd never give up, just like her parents never gave up.
The numbing pain in her wrists from the shackles she hung from was obliterated, as the object in her stomach was wedged slightly deeper. She moaned in agony and bit her lip to stopper the scream that was edging to escape. She knew that was what Voldemort was waiting for: her submission. Her feet sagged, unable to support her weight any longer, causing the shackles to draw more blood, which ran down her pale arms.
An exasperated cry from Harry drew her eyes from the Dark Lord and she felt a pain in her heart, deeper than any physical infliction Voldemort could cause. Harry was in pain and there was nothing she could do. He looked at her with desperate eyes, fighting against his own shackles in an attempt to reach her. Turning her tear-stained face from him, unwilling to witness his pain, she looked over at her other friends. Charlie, Ron, and Hermione were all unconscious, tied to the same wall she was. Voldemort's high chilled voice rang through the night air.
"You see her suffering Harry. You know you could put an end to this suffering if you just tell me the name of the Chosen."
"I don't know who you're talking about. Your fight's with me just leave her alone." Harry's voice rang strong in the large stone room. Voldemort narrowed his eyes.
"Crucio." Harry's pain echoed through the room and Charisma's eyes watered.
"No," She rasped, her voice a hoarse whisper. Voldemort heard it and turned to her. Her anger quickly swelled in her chest and to her surprise, sparks flew from her clenched fists. Voldemort's eyes widened in comprehension and a terrible smile of devilish delight slithered across his face.
"My, my," Voldemort said softly. "All this time we've been searching for the Chosen and here she is, right under our nose. Tell me, girl," He asked, leaning closer to her, "What is your name?"
Charisma raised her head defiantly, ignoring Harry's shocked expression, and looked Voldemort straight in his red-slit eyes.
"My name is Charisma Andrews." He smiled gleefully before moving his hand to jamb the instrument deeper. Her whole body clenched with fear and pain and she heard Harry scream as a Death Eater performed the Cruciatus Curse on him. Her mind screamed and her body felt on fire before-
Charisma sat up gasping for breath, a scream on her lips. Her bed sheets were twisted around her small body. Her clothes stuck to her sweaty skin and her whole body was shaking. She felt incredibly sick and could feel tears falling down her face.
Stumbling to the bathroom, she fell in front of the toilet, her stomach wrenching from her memories. Wiping her mouth, she fell back on the floor, unable to keep her sobs from escaping. It was only a memory but it had felt as real as the cool tile beneath her.
Curling up on the bathroom floor, her dark hair matting on her damp face, she tried to stifle her cries, causing her wounded stomach to burn. Gripping her bandaged stomach with shaking hands, she could feel wetness from a ripped stitch. Blinding truth set in and she was left with a terrible feeling of desperation and apprehension for the days to come.