1AN: I just wanted to start off by saying THANK YOU TO ALL MY REVIEWERS. It really means a lot to know that there are people out there that are actually reading and enjoying some of the things that I have been trying to write. I'll thank you again in the end AU, but for now I'll just let you get to the next chapter.
DISCLAIMER: Is this really necessary? We all know who Harry Potter belongs to, and all of you know that it is not me. What would happen if I did say that I owned everything related to Harry Potter? Would JK Rowling appear out of no where and tell me that I don't? Would she never let me write again and make sure all credit is given to her? Wait...If JKR comes to me, then I could hold her hostage until she tells me what happens in the last book...
ANTI-DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER BELONGS TO ME!
(You'll know if JK comes if my next chapter is written immensely better.)
OH! And I'm just going to add something to give you all a better visual: The Death Eaters in my story DO NOT wear those ridiculous KKK hoods as seen in the movie, nor do they have those skull masks. Plain and simple, just black masks and hoods. Rounded hoods, not pointed. Just picture them as that from now on, because I hate the movie version...lets stay with what Rowling has intended...Go look at page 644 in Goblet of Fire. See? No points...
I'll let you get to your reading now.
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CHAPTER IV:
EXPLANATION
Harry's feet slammed to the ground and his knees buckled, causing him to topple over and fall to the stone floor. Hard.
"...One." He breathed, wincing as he scrambled to his feet. He looked around where he stood for any sign of where he might be, but could see nothing beyond his own hands. He pulled his wand out from his pocket, thankful he had placed it there, and relieved it had survived the fall.
"Lumos." The light issued from the tip illuminated enough only for him to be able to see a small path ahead of him. In his other hand he realized he still clutched the letter, and noticed it was not fully uncoiled. Unraveling it an inch or two further, another line of text was discernable in the shimmering ink.
"Welcome to the Serpent's Lair."
The crimson handwriting of the Dark Lord clearly referred to his present location, where the letter that had truly been a Portkey had been planned to take him. That one line showed that Voldemort had been able play Harry so well that he knew exactly the amount of time that he would take to read the letter and be taken to 'The Serpent's Lair': clearly the name that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had come up with for their headquarters.
No...This can't be happening...I can't really be here, alone, with him...Overwhelming fear began to build inside him as sense finally kicked in and he realized how serious a situation this was. He couldn't even begin to grasp the idea that he was really here, let alone think of what to do, or how he could ever escape.
A thought occurred to him: maybe he could Apparate out of here. He hadn't yet passed the test, but he had done it before, in a dire situation where it was the only choice. And now, once again, those were the circumstances.
He tried to calm down, if that was even possible, and concentrated on being back in his bedroom at Number 4, safely away with Lupin and his best friends. With eyes closed, he forced himself to be there, and tried to make the jump. At first, he had the familiar tube-squeezed feeling as he felt himself being transported and was ecstatic that it had actually worked. But then it felt as though a metal ceiling had been placed above him and he had crashed into it at full force. Harry fell back to the ground, head throbbing painfully. Apparently, you could not just Disapparate from 'The Serpent's Lair.'
Harry rubbed his head absentmindedly as he tried to think of what he could do. He had known that as soon as he opened the letter that something like this would occur, but he did not think fully through to come up with a plan of what to do when it happened.
And what about the Order of the Phoenix? Surely they, too, would be working on a way to save him. Unbelievably, with all the added security measures that they had been providing, Voldemort had still managed to take Harry away.
It's my own fault. I should have listened to Ginny and waited for Lupin. He would have known that there was something wrong with the letter. He crumpled the parchment in frustration and crammed it into the pocket of his plaid-print pajama bottoms. He was ashamed that this was what he had to face the Dark Lord in, and wished he knew a spell that could change what you were wearing. But what would it matter anyway? Does it really matter what clothes you are in when you are going to be killed in the next few moments?
He hoisted himself off the ground with the hand that did not hold his wand, the thing that was now his only hope for survival against the forces of the Dark Lord. Harry knew he was here, somewhere in this building, waiting for him. Waiting to kill him. It was now only a matter of time before it happened.
He raised the holly staff high to extend his field of view. To his left was a narrow, stone hallway, and, not seeing anything else making itself available to him, Harry had the sense that this was where he was supposed to go. With no other option and no hope for escape, he started his walk for the door that lay at the end of it, and whatever may lie beyond...
The walkway closely resembled that of those that lead down to the dungeons and potions rooms of Hogwarts. It was cold, and had an arched ceiling, and on the walls were brackets that might have once held flaming candles. Spattered between two of those brackets was a dark substance that looked eerily like blood. Harry closed his eyes and fought back a wave of fear-induced nausea.
What the hell was he doing here? At this moment, he was, with no doubt, walking toward his own death. Why wasn't he running; trying to get out before it was too late? There has to be another door somewhere...There has to be an exit. But he knew, in the back of his subconscious mind, that there was no escape, that nothing could prevent what was to come. Harry continued to walk forward, ready to face whatever was to come.He gripped his wand tighter with a sweaty palm.
The handle on the black door before him was one of tarnished silver, crafted into the form of a twisting snake. With a deep breath that could very well have been his last, he reached out toward it. But there was no need to apply any force, for as soon as he hesitantly extended his arm, it swung away from him, opening into the darker room that lay behind.
This was it. This was the point where he chose to either walk forward and face his end or turn and run and hope for escape. He took a deep breath, and reached forward toward the darkness...
He turned and ran.
But he didn't get far, for as soon as he put his back to the door and began his sprint, he was immediately halted, bare feet skidding against the stone. He instinctively raised his wand in hope of defending himself from what stood before him: a mass of black-clad Death Eaters, with their own wands drawn toward him. (AN: remember, no pointed hoods.) Someone snapped their fingers, and the hall was eerily lit in a faint glow from small, swirling fires that were centered on the empty brackets. They burned with a green flame.
"Going somewhere, Potter?" The cold voice spoke from amongst the black shadows, and Harry didn't need to see the face to know who was speaking.
"Bellatrix!" He exclaimed, raising his wand higher to point at his unseen foe. He had not seen her since that night at the Ministry of Magic. The night that she had killed his godfather, Sirius Black. And he wanted her dead.
"I see you haven't forgotten me, Potter. I'm touched." She taunted from somewhere amongst the black crowd.
"Where are you?" Harry shouted, searching the face-hiding masks. "Show yourself!"
"Do you want to finish our duel, boy, is that it?" She said, one of the black shapes moving forward.
"No...I want to kill you!"
"Ah, even better. In that case..." She stepped out from the crowd, but someone grabbed her arm.
"Bella, don't..." The unrecognized voice said warningly, but showed no real enforcement. She shrugged off the hand and ignored him.
With robed arms outstretched, she stood before him. Alone, defenseless, vulnerable. "Take your shot." She tempted.
Harry didn't know what she was doing. Why would she willingly give herself to him so easily? Did she not think he was capable of killing her? The Death Eaters behind her were tense, anticipating what was to come. If they did not think he had the will for revenge, then he was severely underestimated.
He pointed his wand directly toward her, not caring for the consequences of what he was about to do. Too many people had died, too many had suffered. And it was time someone paid for it. This might be the only chance he ever had, and he was taking it. He remembered what she had once told him about the Unforgivable curses, how you really had to mean them to use them. He had never wanted anything more. He thought of Sirius, of Dumbledore, of Ginny...and he bellowed his curse.
What the hell, he was going to be killed anyway, right?
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" The words felt exotic coming from his mouth, and they seemed to burn his lips like poison. He felt cold and heartless, high on adrenaline, fear, and the sweet feeling of triumphant revenge. The green light flew forward and drove through the heart of his target, and he eagerly waited for the moment when she fell dead before him.
And he waited...and waited...But it did not come; she did not fall.
She stood before him...and laughed...
"You cannot kill us, Potter." She smiled at him evilly. "No one can kill us...We are invincible!"
"No...how..?" Harry sputtered in shock. That spell should have killed her instantly. How is it possible that it had no effect? And, bloody hell, had he just tried to murder someone?
"The power of the Dark Lord, boy. And it is in your best interests to give into it." She motioned to the crowd, and several Death Eaters stepped forward toward Harry. He backed away, but two of them grabbed his arms to keep him from escaping. The third reached for him with a silver hand.
"Wormtail!" He screamed at him in recognition, but the black figure remained silent. The other Death Eaters held Harry still as Wormtail's silver hand harshly ripped out several strands of Harry's hair.
"Ouch!" He cried in surprise, tears stinging his eyes from the unexpected sharp pain. "What was that for?"
"Come, come, Potter. You should know better than us the ingredients needed for a Polyjuice Potion." Bellatrix said as Wormtail slithered back, disappearing amongst the crowd.
The first question he thought of was what they would need that for, but instead was concerned with how she had said it. "How would you know about that?"
"We have our sources; we know far more than you think. Now release him, it is time."
The Death Eaters loosened their grip on his arm, and Harry twisted away and backed into the door behind him. But his weight on the already ajar door pushed it fully open, and he was no longer leaning against it, but falling into the dark room beyond. He landed on his backside, the Death Eaters stopping their approach and laughing at his clumsiness. But Harry realized he was still leaning against something, but it did not feel like the door. It felt more like...
Slowly he turned his head to look over his shoulder, afraid at what he knew to be behind him. And sure enough, as he looked back, Harry saw that he was leaning against the black robes of a tall figure. Tilting his head up fearfully, he glanced into the scarlet, gleaming eyes that shone from a pale, skull face.
Harry had fallen back against Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord himself. He scrambled to his feet to face him, utterly mortified and unable to say a word. His eyes were wide, jaw ajar, breathing fast and wavering, but he tried with all his strength not to show his fear. But when you are looking at the face of evil itself, it's nearly impossible to show any amount of bravery.
"Welcome, Harry." He hissed. At that moment, Harry's wand decided to fly into the outstretched, summoning, long-fingered hand. "You will have no use for this." With that, he snapped it in two, directly before Harry. It made a loud crack and several final sparks shot out. The sound it made might as well have been Harry's neck, for without his wand, he stood no chance. He didn't even have time to protest, and was too stunned to exclaim his shock.
Voldemort nodded to one of the Death Eater's behind Harry, all of which were kneeling respectfully on one knee. The called figure rose and came forward, taking the shards that were once Harry's wand that were being offered to him. He bowed and backed away, turning to go back down the hall.
"As for the rest of you, you may leave. I have no use for you at the moment."
Harry heard the Death Eaters stand and leave reverently, but there was a clear feeling of apprehension among them. One fool had the nerve to question the dictation.
"M-master...You had p-promised us a chance to...t-torture the boy..."
"And Lord Voldemort retains his promises. Did you doubt that I would?" Harry was chilled by the harsh hissing voice, and was glad it was not directed at him.
"N-no, Master...Forgive me...I was only..."
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort sent the spell whizzing past Harry's left ear. Harry did not need to turn around to know that the spell had hit its intended target. There was a soft thump as the body fell to the ground, dead.
"Take it to the Incinerary." He ordered with disgust. "And let this show what happens to anyone who dares rebuke what I say. Let your confidences never waver again."
Harry could hear the sound of hurried footsteps and something heavy being dragged away as the Death Eaters all but fled the corridor. After that, it was just himself and Voldemort.
The Dark Lord said nothing. He simply lifted his finger and Harry found himself levitated off his feet. Voldemort turned and entered the shadowed room, Harry being forced to follow. As soon as he was in, the door slammed shut. For a moment, the room was encased entirely in darkness. Harry's feet again touched the ground, and a snap from Voldemort ignited the same green-flamed torches from the hall. Harry noticed that they had brass serpents entwined about them, something he could not see before.
Voldemort flicked his wand, and a solitary wooden chair appeared behind Harry.
"Sit," he commanded, and Harry did not dare to dispute.
For the longest time, neither of them said anything. Harry doubted that he would have been able to anyway, for fear had clenched his throat. He realized that he had never been more afraid in his life. Not in the Chamber of Secrets; not in the Graveyard; not even the events that had happened in the Cave in June; nothing could compare to the overwhelming sense of terror he was experiencing right now. Harry sat helplessly before all the power of the Dark Lord himself, and as he looked into those crimson eyes, he knew that he would not be leaving here alive.
"Harry Potter..." He drawled. It took Harry a moment to realize that it was said in Parseltongue, the snakelike hissing making it far more chilling than it would have been if said without. He continued to address him in the serpentine language. "What an honor it is to have you before me. The-Boy-Who-Lived...We shall see if you live up to that title."
He paced the floor before Harry, not taking his scarlet eyes off him. Harry stared back with his own wide green ones. Voldemort walked around him, and when he had left Harry's field of vision, Harry braced himself in apprehension for an attack. After a few seconds when nothing occurred, Harry unclenched his eyes. Inches from his face was the white skull of the Dark Lord.
"Are you scared, Harry?" He mocked him. His breath was warm and putrid as he hissed so close to Harry's face.
Harry drew as far back in the chair as he could without tipping it over. He stammered his answer. "N-no."
"Liar." He simply said. He straightened up and stood a few feet away. It was another few moments before he spoke again.
"Do you know why you are here, Harry Potter?"
It took Harry a moment to find and strengthen his voice, willing himself not to show his insurmountable fear. He failed. "So you can kill me."
Voldemort gave a short laugh before responding in Parseltongue. "You know from your dreams that is not what I have planned for you. Tell me, Harry, what is to happen..?"
"You're going to torture me." He was astounded by the amount of courage and resolve in his own voice.
"Oh, yes! Without doubt, I will do so. But that is not why you are here." He paused to allow Harry time to absorb this. He continued once he saw the look of fearful recognition dawn upon the boy's face. "Now, Harry. Why are you really here?"
Harry looked away to the stone ground in stunned disbelief. "You...you w-want me to t-take the Dark Mark..." He turned his head back to Voldemort and spoke incredulously. "You want me to become a Death Eater!"
Voldemort smiled a cruel, twisted smile of satisfaction. "I'm glad you've caught on so soon."
Harry was stunned. "Why would you want to make me a Death Eater? I thought you wanted me dead!"
Harry couldn't understand the look on Voldemort's face as he spoke to him, continually in the language of snakes.
"I have only ever wanted you dead because, I will admit it, you pose a threat to me. I had thought that if I eliminated you, I would become unstoppable. But you, Harry, have proved yourself very difficult to be disposed of. No matter how many attempts are made against your life, you always seem to walk away unscathed."
"I knew you were powerful. I had known even before the occurrences of that night some 16 years ago. How could you not be with your lineage? And even as I said the curse that would end your life, the spell that would begin my irrefutable reign, I had doubts. Should someone harnessing a power this intense be gotten rid of so easily?
"I decided that it did not matter. You were a threat to my own power and could not be kept alive. But I knew as soon as the curse touched you that I had made the wrong decision. Instead of killing you I should have brought you back with me, raised you amongst the Death Eaters to become the most powerful in their ranks. You could have been the most fearsome of all warriors. But I had underestimated your true strength, and for my own greed. I had payed most dearly for my naivety that night.
"But now, Harry, fate has granted me another chance. A chance that I will not take lightly. I do not want you killed. I want you to side with me. You have heard the Prophecy, Potter, you know what it says. 'For either must die at the hands of the other.' This means that only you can kill me, but, in return, only I can kill you. If we were to join together, we would be invincible. Immortal. The world would be placed in our hands to control.
"You, Harry, are the only person with whom I would ever consider sharing this power. Isn't that something that you want? You have never been in a situation where you could exert your full force, Dumbledore assured that. He kept you back, he restrained you from becoming what you were truly destined to be. Why? He feared you, Harry. He was afraid that if he did not restrict you then you would become more powerful than him. And, without doubt, you would have.
"If you were allowed to rise to your full potential, you would have become indestructible. Wizards everywhere would have revered your name much like they do mine. Your powers would have belittled my own. But Dumbldore kept you back...
"I wouldn't do that, Harry. I would never restrain a wizard from becoming what they are truly meant to be. That's why I don't want you dead. I want you to live, live the life that you were destined to. I would train you, teach you all that I know. Together, we could become more than any wizard has ever dreamed of becoming. All that I ask, is that you take the Mark of loyalty to me. Become a Death Eater to become what you are meant to be."
Harry was shaking in rage. How could he say something like that? After all that he had done, how could Voldemort possibly expect Harry to side with him? Dumbledore had never held him back; that was a lie. He didn't have any 'great potential' to be withheld from anyway.
"Dumbledore has kept nothing from me..." Harry said through clenched teeth.
"Hasn't he, Potter?" Voldemort incited. "Not once has he even withheld information from you?"
"No...he wouldn't do that. He told me everything..." But as Harry thought back, the temptation of doubt crept into his mind.
"Did it not take him nearly 16 years to discuss the contents of the Prophecy with you? Did he not force you to live with Muggles for the first 10 crucial years of your life? If I am correct, you did not even learn of the existence of the wizarding world until you received your letter of acceptance to Hogwarts! He has told you nothing of the plans of the 'Order of the Phoenix', even though it is you who has more right to know than any of them. You say Dumbledore has kept nothing from you?"
"He...he couldn't tell me. He said I was too young. But he wanted to tell me everything..."
"But he didn't, did he? He has never told you anything without first being prompted, and still then was it hesitant. You have no idea what the old fool was hiding from you, Potter. He has kept from you more than you will ever know, because he has taken those secrets to his grave."
"What else could he have been keeping from me?" Harry shouted indignantly. He wanted to know everything that Voldemort was talking about, but he knew that the Dark Lord would only allow that if decided to side with him. As much as he wanted to know, settling his curiosity was not something to trade the damnation of the world for. "If he had wanted me to know, he would have told me!"
Voldemort stood back and smiled, and Harry knew he was preparing to reveal some dire revelation. "Has Dumbledore ever told you about your family, Harry?" He hissed out in almost whisper.
"What? What about my family?" Harry was taken aback.
"Apparently, he hasn't. Haven't you ever wondered how you are so powerful? Why I choose you to fulfil the Prophecy? I choose you over a pureblood, Harry. Why would I ever do such a thing, if not for a good reason?"
"Because you saw yourself in me. We were similar..."
Voldemort snarled. "Dumbledore told you that. That was his reasoning. He thought that I had chosen you because we were both half-bloods. But he lied to you, again. Yes, Potter, we are similar...but only in the fact that we are both descendants of Hogwarts House founders."
Harry blinked. That couldn't be right. He wasn't a descendant...
"Think I'm lying again, Harry? Why else would the Sorting Hat put you into Gryffindor if it saw my own power, Slytherin's power, within you? It is not because you asked it to, boy, the Hat doesn't take requests! It put you in Gryffindor because you are a Gryffindor by blood. Your entire father's side was."
"No...no, I'm not..." Harry said in disbelief. "I can't be..."
"Yes, Harry. You are the final Heir of Godric Gryffindor." Voldemort stood back and watched as his words took their affect.
Harry sat in stunned disbelief. No. No, I'm not. He's saying this to get me to turn against Dumbledore. Dumbledore would have told me that...he would have told me if I was Gryffindor's Heir...I'm not...I can't be...
But Harry realized that these were the exact words he had uttered upon the discovery of him being a wizard. When Hagrid had told him in that hut on the sea, he had denied it, refused to believe it to be possible. But just because he didn't believe the truth then, doesn't mean he had to believe this lie now...
"Deny it all you want, Harry, but you cannot avoid the truth. You are Gryffindor's Heir whether you choose to believe it or not. That's why I choose you. I knew that if you had the blood of a Founder in your veins then you would amount to something far greater than anyone else had foreseen. Even without his blood, you would have been great; but with it, you are unvanquishable..."
Voldemort was cut short by the sound of laughter echoing throughout the stone room. He looked genuinely shocked at the sound of it. He looked at the boy before him, who wasn't even trying to control his bout of insanity.
"What do you find so funny? I see nothing you would consider humorous..."
Harry continued to laugh, tears rolling down his face. "This is a dream!" He finally was able to shout out after somewhat subduing his laughs. "This is all a dream! None of it's real! I actually thought I had been taken captive, but no way that could have happened: I have the entire Order on my doorstep! And then I find out that Voldemort wants me as a Death Eater and I'm the Heir of Gryffindor? This is just a twisted version of the same dream I've been having for a month!"
Voldemort began to laugh too, but his laugh was nothing like Harry's. It was cold and mirthless.
Harry got out of his chair and walked to a door on the other side of the room. He gave Voldemort a short wave as he put his hand on the doorknob. "Well, I think I've had enough of this dream. I'll have to tell Ron, he'll find it brilliant...So, Voldy, if you don't mind I'm just gonna head on out...Many other dreams to get to...Gotta catch up on my beauty sleep. Wouldn't hurt you to, either...Good luck on getting the 'Heir of Gryffindor' to become a Death Eater..."
"You. Stupid. Fool." Voldemort said, shaking his head in disbelief. Harry didn't notice as he slipped a hand into the pocket of his robes and drew out a wand. "I didn't want to do this so soon, but you leave me no other choice..."
"Artaithum!" The Dark Lord bellowed the spell and a large silvery-green snake erupted from the end of his wand and connected with Harry's chest. Instantly, Harry was on the floor, convulsing in pain. It seemed as if every inch of him had been ignited in flame, and he screamed with the pain of it far louder than he had ever screamed before. He was lost in an unknown world of pure torment, and he was no longer in touch with his surroundings. His skin split into deep, freely bleeding gashes that covered his entire body. It was as if he was being whipped with a scorching iron rod that ripped and charred his flesh with the jagged pieces of glass and metal that it contained. Before his eyes were visions of his friends as they were put under the same spell, their mutilated, dead bodies being burned and disposed of. All hope and joy had been sucked from the world and shredded into infinitesimal pieces. And in the back of his semi-conscious mind, the Dark Lord was whispering that if he took the Dark Mark, all of this would be over, everything would be put right...
An eternity had passed, and finally, Voldemort had lifted the spell. Harry was no longer laughing, but instead, laying on the floor crying in pain as he gasped for breath. His face was drenched with his own tears and sweat, and his arms, legs, and chest were all painfully bleeding, the thick warm liquid oozing down. Bruises were already appearing on his torn skin. The deep lacerations that covered him slowly began to fade into faint pink scars, but he still remained covered in his own blood.
"Holy...fucking...God..." They were the only words that could ever possibly some that up. It wasn't a dream...it isn't a dream...This was all real. He really was captured by Voldemort, he really was the Heir of Gryffindor, and Voldemort really did want him as a Death Eater. This wasn't a dream...this was a living nightmare...
"That, Harry, was the Artathus. I've never used that on anyone before, but I must say that I am pleased with the result. Hopefully now you realize the full severity of your situation."
Voldemort snapped his fingers and three Death Eaters Apparated inside the room. They performed a levitating charm on Harry, and he was lifted off the floor and carried through the door, making no effort to try and escape. He couldn't clearly see the hallway that lay beyond due to his smashed glasses. He allowed them to slip off his sweat-drenched face and fall to the floor; they would be no use to him now anyway.
The Death Eaters led him into an even darker hall that seemed to have small doors leading off of it. Harry was taken to one of the doors and the charm was released, causing him to fall inside. He winced as his already sore body scraped the stone. Without a word, the Death Eaters left, magically sealing the door behind them. Harry was left in a cell of utter darkness. He vaguely heard the Death Eaters leave, before he realized that another presence had taken their place outside his door.
Bloody hell, please...no...
He groaned to himself in desperation, praying that his suspicions weren't true. But even as he did, he was overcome by and immense cold and a desperate feeling of helplessness and despair. He shivered violently. Voldemort was using Dementors to guard his cells.
Harry's thoughts swam around him as he heard his mother screaming for life. Grotesque and fearful images appeared before him ceaselessly. Visions of his parents' death, a bright green light, the graveyard revival, the Dark Mark burning black, Cedric's lifeless stare, Voldemort rising from the cauldron, Death Eaters, the repetitive dreams, the Artathus, Sirius falling though the veil, the Prophecy, Dumbledore's crumpled form as he suffered in the cave, Dumbledore's dead body Voldemort at full strength, an image of his own mangled body at death...Then nothing but darkness, and pain, and cold, his suffering even penetrating unconsciousness.
It seems is was only minutes before a Death Eater was shoving a boot in his chest, yet he knew it was more like hours. He cried out as he was hit with another blow before being pulled by his hair to his feet. They forcefully led him out into the dark hall, and directed him back into the room from the night before. In the center of the room waiting for him was Voldemort.
Harry stumbled in deliriously. A harsh jab to the back forced him to his knees before the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters left, and he was left bowing before him. Voldemort wasted no time.
"So, Harry." He hissed in Parseltongue. "Did you enjoy your beauty sleep?"
Harry winced and groaned inwardly, mortified that he had actually said that to the Dark Lord only hours before.
Voldemort did not expect an answer and continued. "I am willing to forget that incident, if you are willing to consider my offer. Take my Mark, or die."
Of course, Voldemort had to make it that simply complex. Give him two options and choose one, both of which are as bad as the other. If he took the Mark, he would be betraying his friends and going against everything he had ever believed in. But if he died...he would take with him the fate of the world because Voldemort would become immortal.
"Neither." was all Harry could think to say.
"That is not a choice, boy."
"Well, I didn't like the options you gave me so I made my own." Harry replied sarcastically, knowing he would probably regret it. But what more could the Dark Lord do to him?
"Fool. So what do you plan to do? Sit there and wait for a rescue?"
"Uh, yeah. Actually, I am."
Voldemort actually laughed. "No one can save you, Harry. This building was built by Salazar Slytherin himself: it is impenetrable. And with the spells I have added, it has more than Hogwarts itself. There are no doors, there are no windows. The only way that someone can get in or out is if I allow them to. There will be no rescue.
"Now, I ask you again. Which do you choose."
"Neither," he said with resolve.
"Artaithum!" Again Harry felt the strength and horrors of the spell as it ravaged him. His body thrashed madly and appeared spasmodic as the previous wounds erupted again and spilled out the dark, shimmering crimson. You could almost hear the sound of tearing flesh beneath the rabid screams. Voldemort watched with glee as the boy before him begged for it to end. Eventually, he granted his pleas.
As the spell was lifted, Harry remained immobile, his breathing sharp and shallow. Voldemort pointed his wand at him again. "Ennervate." Instantly, Harry's eyes snapped open, the color mirroring that of the flames that were the room's only source of illumination. He leaned to his side and coughed, spitting up blood.
"Unconsciousness will not be an escape. I will use this spell, everyday, all day, reawakening you when necessary, until you have given me your answer."
"I will n-never side with you." Harry spat. "I will never b-become one of your hell-damned followers."
"We shall see, Harry. Artaithum!"
Again, Harry felt his flesh ripping open and tearing apart, creating gorges of freshly flowing blood. His scar had actually burst in pain and was now contributing to the gushing crimson streams. He felt the intense scorching sensation throughout ever fiber of his being as though he had been lit aflame by the very fires of hell itself. Searing slashes appeared over the entirety of his tormented body as he thrashed madly on the stone floor, begging for it to end. He had no sense of where he was or what was happening. All that was there was him and this all-consuming pain. His mind was wiped blank of all thought, but horrible images kept flashing before him. Images of suffering, of pain, of death. And he knew that is was somehow his fault. A voice beckoned to him from the distance, saying that everything would end if he just agreed. All he had to do was take this Mark, and it would all be over...but over that calming voice was his own, and it was screaming at him to never give in. But the pain! Everything hurt so bad. All he had to do was consent to its application and he would never be hurt again...only that, and it would all be over...
As the spell was ceased, Harry found himself crumpled on the floor in a pool of his own blood. He stopped screaming and just lay there, gasping for air. He looked at the gashes that covered his body, and they began to slowly recede and heal over, covering him in faint pink scars. His face was drenched in sweat, tears, and blood, and his eyes began to roll madly towards the back of his head. The room spun and tilted wildly and Harry became nauseous. He leaned over and vomited viciously, contributing more blood to the pool he had already created.
His entire body was shaking as he lay there, drained of all energy and unable to move. He felt cold and sick, and could still feeling the ebbing's of the immense pain. Voldemort was talking but he couldn't hear him, not that he would have wanted to anyways. Harry's eyes drooped shut as they rolled away and he passed into the dark and troubled world of unconsciousness, praying that he wouldn't again be awakened by that black essence of evil itself.
This was only day one.
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AN: Well, I'm sorry to leave you here, but that's all for this chapter. V should be up shortly. But now, all I have to say is that I am in shock. Not two days after I wrote the author's note at the top of this fic did my thumb drive die. My thumb drive is a USB device on which been saving everything I have written for the past 3 years. Well, its gone. I have nothing else. Updates after this could take longer than before, but I really really promise that I'm going to try. Its just really hard to lose everything you have ever written and have to start over again from scratch. I had SO much stuff saved on there for this fic...now I have to try and remember it and piece it all back together. I really want to get all the way through this story, so I'm not giving up. Its just a minor set back, that's all. Its like playing Candyland and your right at the Kandy Kastle when you get a card to go back to that ugly plum tree guy at the start. Wow, I did just compare my life to Candyland. I think I'm going to go now.
WAIT! I just thought of something! I reread my AN at the beginning, saying that "I own Harry Potter" and "maybe JK will come and stop me." OMG! JKR destroyed my thumb drive so I couldn't take credit for her work! She came to my house and killed it! Or maybe she sent some internet virus to eliminate it. I don't know! Aw...but what I do know is that I still don't know what happens in Book 7. Darn you JK. And now, I'll be lucky to write the next chapters at all, let alone write them immensely better...and, I daresay, I really need to step it up a notch.
I'm going to go slave over remembering minute details from later chapters so I can continue to post for your enjoyment and my own sanity.
May the Force be with you.
nods head and DISAPPARATES
loud crack as I Apparate back.
Oh! About some of the reviews...if you have been reading some of the later ones and been
like 'what the hell? Why are they calling her James and Prongs?' that's cuz these reviews have been sent from my core group of insanity-linked friends. Ignore the content of them, you'll never understand it. But, 'BerttheToolBox7' is 'Remus Lupin'; 'Theresa Black' is 'Sirius Black'; and the other is my 'darling wife Lily'. They address me as James. But, if you contact them about me, they will deny any knowledge of my existence, so don't harass them for anything.
And one more thing...(I hope you all are actually reading this far)
I would like to send out a very special thanks. There has been one person who has come to my attention that has read and reviewed both of my Fics. She (presuming female, sorry if not) is the only one that I have noticed to have been with me since the beginning. I don't think she knows how much I greatly appreciate it to be able to have someone who truly appreciates your work and shows it by staying with you. It really is great to have a fan like that. I am talking about someone who goes solely by the name of Lotty. Lotty: wherever you are, whoever you are, thank you for reading and reviewing.
Well. Enough with the touchy-feely-sentimental moments. I have so little to do and so much time to do it in. No, scratch that, reverse it.
DISAPPARATES
(mystical, unseen voice)
The Force will be with you...always...