Disclaimer: This is a fanfic! I do not own the Potterverse. JK Rowling does!
The Kingdom
A Visitor in the Night
They were returned to their cells promptly and without much fuss, partly because they were tired and partly because they did not know what to do to escape. Each one of them briefly considered the notion for a moment, but quickly squashed the thought. There were too many unknowns and risks to attempt such a blind escape. They all knew that. While escaping their predicament was definitely a priority, staying alive was even more so.
Harry found himself sitting in his cell and staring at the stone wall across from him. His mind was still processing what had recently occurred. The Arena. The fighting. Surviving. And the old man who seemed to be in charge of the whole ordeal. He wondered who he was and what he wanted all this fighting for. Sure, he figured there was the desire to be entertained, but there had to be some other motivation for it. Some other reason why they would get such skilled warriors - though he did not really think of himself as one - to bring them together merely to fight to the death.
Unless, of course, the old man is a complete lunatic, he thought with grim amusement.
Yet again Harry found himself wondering why he was embroiled in such a terrible situation. Why was it that it was always him that the fates or the gods or whatever supernatural forces exist picked on? And having come so far as defeating the latest Dark Lord, Harry thought that he might find a measure of peace. A piece of normalcy that he might find comfort in. Of course it was not meant to be as he was stuck here in some prison in the middle of nowhere, forced into gladiatorial fighting for reasons he did not know.
Hours passed, or perhaps it was only minutes, Harry couldn't really tell the passage of time without a watch or a clock. He realized his back was starting to hurt, having been sitting up on his bed with his back to the wall for what seemed a while. He lay down and the pain alleviated somewhat, though the mattress was not exactly comfortable either.
Again, he did not know how long he lay there, but eventually he heard the echoing of heavy footsteps outside. Metal upon stone. They stopped right outside his door and there was the sound of jingling keys and his door being unlocked.
The young wizard sat up, his emerald eyes looking at the now open doorway with a mixture of curiosity and fear. As much as he hated to admit it, he was afraid. If only they had allowed me to keep my staff... Wishful thinking. A soldier walked in, his masked helmet on. The dark holes through which the man could see aimed directly at Harry.
"Up, prisoner." The man's voice had no edge to it, the phrase said with a bored and rather-be-somewhere-else tone to it.
Harry stood warily. "What is it?"
"All prisoners are allowed to bathe after fighting, given they survive of course. It is your turn. Now move."
The young man with the lightning scar did not have to be told twice. A bath sounded really wonderful at the moment.
A few minutes and several winding passages later, Harry relaxed in the tub, letting the warm and soapy water soak him. He slid further down so that only his head and upper neck remained above the water, the back of his head resting on the edge of the tub. His aching muscles felt soothed and his entire body relaxed. For a while at least he did not feel as if he were a prisoner.
He had been surprised at how nice the baths were, and that a prisoner like himself would be able to use them.
He had been given thirty minutes to bathe and clothe himself, a new set of garments waited for him on a bench next to the door. Harry started to think about the others back in Britain. He wondered if they were looking for them, if they even knew he was gone. It had been several days now, but they probably would not have noticed just yet. He had wanted to be alone after all and so they might have thought to let him have his peace for a while.
He found himself not being upset at that notion. After all that has happened, he did not want to involve them in yet another situation where the lives of those he cared about would be at risk. He hoped that somewhere out there they were going on with their lives, oblivious to the fact that Harry was seemingly worlds away.
"Don't come looking for me," he whispered as his mind drifted off into a slumber.
-xxxxxx-
Arthur Weasley slammed his fist on the table.
"This is unacceptable!" he yelled, his eyes sweeping across the room at the special task force in charge of locating and retrieving the young Mr. Potter.
The frustration had been building in him for quite some time ever since Harry's disappearance. It was still kept top secret, as most of the Wizarding world was oblivious to the fact that one of their heroes was missing. Abducted under the very nose of Ministry personnel to boot, it was potentially a big embarrassment not to mention a tragedy since the country was only beginning to pull itself together and rebuild. If something were to befall Harry, there would be much despair.
Yet ever since his disappearance, they had come up with nothing. There was simply no trace of him or the abductor.
There were no tell-tale signs of an apparition being made, no signs of a struggle or of anyone breaking in. It seemed as if Harry might have thought his abductor to be a friend and was simply caught unawares. But the manager of the Horned Frog Inn had said, truthfully, that Harry had gone out and returned alone. That he had always been alone every time he saw him.
They had checked the room for any clues. The window was slightly cracked open, but it was barely big enough for anyone to fit through. Of course, magic could have been used and they checked for that. Indeed, there was a faint trace of magic in the room, but it was too weak to do anything with other than to know that the signature of the magic did not match Harry's.
"Sir," spoke one of the veteran aurors who had survived through the war, "What do we do now? We've... we've searched every inch of that Inn. We've combed Knockturn and Diagon Alleys with nary a trace of the boy..."
Arthur sighed, sitting back down in his chair with a loud thump as he landed hard. He paid no attention to the protests of his bum at the rough landing. "We keep searching."
"But where?" asked another auror, a woman in her late forties.
Arthur had no answer.
-xxxxxx-
THUD. THUD. THUD.
A heavy knocking on the thick wooden door echoed through the bathroom, waking Harry. "You have 2 minutes to get ready and out of there, prisoner. Otherwise, we'll come in and assist you."
Harry understood what that meant and immediately got out of the bath, the stone floor feeling very cool against his wet, warm skin. His muscles seemed to protest a little, having been too relaxed a mere second ago, but he forced himself to stand and towel off quickly.
They were unlocking the door when he put on his trousers at least. The door swung open and a soldier stood in the doorway. He said nothing and he let Harry finish dressing himself in silence.
He was brought back to his cell and locked up. Harry began to pace the room a little, feeling a bit energized and hungry as well. Thankfully, their meals were being served as he heard the now familiar sound of the food cart moving through the halls. The rest of the day passed without anything interesting happening. The young wizard passed the time by doing a workout, which he decided on doing out of pure boredom.
The following day was pretty much the same, except without the bathing of course. He was served his meals and he passed the time by doing a workout and, as the day wore on, he began to recall as much spells as he could that would be useful in combat. This being the second day after all, he would have to fight the following day and he wanted to make sure he would survive this stage as well.
Footsteps outside interrupted his thoughts. It was unusual for so many soldiers to be out there this late at night. For the past few nights as part of their patrols the soldiers who guarded the prison would walk the halls either alone or with a partner. From what Harry could tell, there were at least four soldiers out there. He was in the process of guessing what they were up to when the door to his cell was unlocked.
"Prisoner. Come with us," said one of the soldiers.
"Isn't it late for a bath? My name's Harry, by the way." he said as he walked through the doorway.
"This isn't a bath trip. Now keep quiet, prisoner." He was pushed a little roughly forward to emphasize the point, and the young wizard kept his mouth shut after that. Flanked all around by soldiers, he wondered what this was for if it was not a bath trip.
They seemed to be headed for the entrance to the prison, if Harry's memory served him right. A thought struck him then that maybe he was being taken to start the second stage already. He swallowed hard and felt fear grip him as they continued to walk.
A familiar voice suddenly spoke into his mind, "Relax, Harry Potter. You will be undergoing the second stage tomorrow as planned. This is merely a visit by someone of... great importance."
A visit? Who is visiting me here? Someone of importance... what does that mean? Harry tried to ask, but no reply ever came. The voice remained silent.
He at least felt some of his fear leave him at the revalation, but he did not know how trustworthy the voice was. While it was true that it had helped him and explained to him several things already, having not lied to him yet, the voice had not identified himself to Harry and that made him suspicious of it. All he knew was that whoever was speaking to him through some kind of mental magic was a male and that he was powerful or skilled enough, or perhaps both, to circumvent the barriers that Harry had discovered in the prison.
He was taken to a holding cell near the entrance to the prison. It was roughly double the size of his own cell, with a table and two chairs on opposite ends. He was brought to one end of it and roughly placed into a chair by two soldiers on either side of him. The other two stood a few feet behind. All of them had their backs stiff, bodies tense.
A moment later, a door that was on the other side of the room opened and someone entered.
It was a young woman.
Harry's eyes widened ever so slightly, his pupils dilating to better take the sight of her in.
She was very beautiful, with wavy, fiery red hair that fell almost to her waist. She seemed almost as tall as Harry, perhaps an inch or two shorter. Her body was very slim, very sexy. She wore a simple but elegant green dress that went to her ankles and that fit her curves very well, showing off her lovely set of breasts by showing a little cleavage thanks to the dress being cut a little low there.
She stopped right next to the chair opposite him and Harry looked into her eyes. Her wonderful blue eyes.
Harry realized he hadn't been breathing properly, her beauty literally having taken his breath away. He coughed slightly and concentrated on breathing normally. Doing this made him look away, and as he returned his gaze to her he noticed that she was still looking at him intently. There was a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth, as if she was about to smile but then thought better of it.
"Leave us." Her voice was melodic and yet firm. She exhibited an air of confidence and command that Harry finally noticed, which made him all the more curious to find out who this was.
"But, my Lady..." one of the soldiers began to say but he stopped as her piercing blue eyes snapped to him with a hint of anger.
"Leave." Her voice had an edge to it the second time she told them that. Her tone implying serious consequences should they disobey.
They did not. The soldiers all bowed their heads, turned around, and left through the door that they had entered. This left Harry all alone with the young woman, who looked to be around her mid to late twenties.
He found that she was looking at him intently again, studying him almost. It made him feel very uncomfortable and he began to fidget under her stare.
"Ummm..." he ventured to say, "W-who are you?"
She finally allowed her lips to twist up into a small smile.
"Hello, Harry James Potter. My brother has told me so much about you," said the young lady as she walked around the table and sat on the edge right next to Harry. Her sudden closeness made his heart pump faster and he could feel heat on his cheeks.
"Do I know you?" he asked, trying hard not to look at her but failing miserably. She was so close.
"You will soon enough," replied the redhead.
There was a moment of silence that was very awkward for Harry. "W-who's your brother?"
"Oh?" the reply was instant, "He hasn't told you yet? Interesting. I guess he wants to see if you really are the one." She reached out her hand and her fingers stroked his cheek. Her skin was so soft and her touch made him tingle, the heat definitely rising in his cheeks. And he knew that she knew what effect she was having on him.
"In truth, I wanted to see for myself... and I can understand why my brother picked you."
Harry's emerald eyes locked onto her deep blue ones. "He... He picked me?" He was confused, curious, and definitely embarrassed, but mostly confused.
She smiled again and then withdrew her hand. Harry couldn't help but feel a little sad at the loss of her touch. The young lady stood up and began to walk away towards the end of the room from where she had entered.
"If you survive tomorrow, then we will talk in length." As she neared the door she cast a backwards glance at him and said, "Good luck, Harry."
Then she was gone.
Author's notes: What do you think? :) I apologize for the delay in continuing this story, but that's just the way I am. Sometimes my mind simply wants to write other stories, but know that I will eventually finish them all.
