Chapter 7
A/N* Just wanted to give a quick trigger notice about some themes in this chapter. As always they are indicated at the start and end of portion I would advise skipping over. As always thank you for reading, please follow/favorite and review!
Harry's eyes creaked open to find he was shrouded in darkness. The room was cold, like ice, his breath visible before him. He knew that there was only one possible answer to how it could be this cold in the midst of summer: dementors were nearby. He tried to move his hands but could only pull against the metal cuffs fastened around them. He was chained to the floor his body outstretched in an X. He tried to find something, anything, to look at but the darkness. His gaze drifter to the small window above him. Through the bars he could see the light of the moon, it wasn't much, but it was better than the darkness. The moon had been unchanging from the one last night: it had only been a single day.
He tried to think back to who his six captors were. They had worn masks and black cloaks. One of the men had the mark clearly visible on his forearm. Another was tall and lanky with dark skin but he sounded much younger than the others. It was that one who had managed to get him to the ground during their scuffle. If he was correct it was one of the Zambini men. He assumed by the way he three others interacted that it was Blaise Zambini, along with Zambini's father, Theodore Nott, and Nott's father. He couldn't remember anything about the other two but endeavored to find out what he could.
As the night grew later and the moon shifted from his sight he grew increasingly aware of the painful chill burning throughout his body. He needed a core potion. He shifted trying to determine what injuries he had accumulated through the night. The feeling of his clothes stuck to his shoulder alerted him to cut made my Bellatrix's knife. All other injuries seemed to be minor and he knew they would heal quickly. He tried to think of a way to escape but knew it would be pointless without a good view of the room he was being held in. He looked once more to the sky stars glimmered in the dusky blue sky. He allowed himself to drift into sleep hoping it would ease his racing mind.
The next time he woke was to the sensation of a dagger thrust through his thigh. He knew he should have cried out in pain but never felt the need to do so. Thank you Death!
"Do it again Theo!" a voice jeered.
The dagger was thrust once more into his thigh and still he didn't cry out.
"Dammit why isn't he screaming?" He heard the younger Zambini exclaim from the other side of the room.
He could feel the blood pooling underneath his leg and tried to move his head so he could see how much he had lost. While he didn't feel the pain he knew that it was still possible for him to bleed out and die. He had to do something. He waited for Blaise to cross the room and rip the dagger from Nott before stabbing it more forcefully into his ribs. This time Harry let out a scream hoping it was convincing enough for the pain he should have felt.
"AH he does scream. Let's make him scream some more." He sneered.
Harry pulled against his restraints and screamed when needed all while assessing the state of his captures. He was amazed to see them all in a healthy, unharmed condition. The door of the room swung open causing the three of them to jump. Blaise dropped the dagger and skittered nervously away from Harry.
"How are we to accomplish our goals if you kill him before it is time?!" The older man yelled. He too was tall and lanky with dark skin. His face showed signs of stress and age and he favored his right side over his noticeably weaker left.
"Out!" he called to the boys who promptly stood and fled.
The elder Nott crossed the room and kneeled before looking over Harry's wounds. He poured a small potion over each stab wound before bandaging them.
"You won't be dying today, Potter, we have plans for you." He leaned over Harry and brushed away the hair that covered his scar. "Voldemort may be gone but a new lord is on his way with much bigger plans." He sneered.
***A/N Trigger Warning***
Harry exhaled sharply, the new wound on his side making it difficult to breathe. He tried to look past the man and examine the room further but was forced to look back at the older man. Panic shot through him as he remembered the last time he was in a situation similar to this. He felt his muscles tighten and he clenched his fists, pulling at the chains. His heart was pounding and he could feel the blood rushing through his veins. Before he could speak the older man raised his hand and swung down hard: his fist making contact with Harry's temple. His body relaxed as his vison faded and he slipped into unconsciousness.
He lay face down, listening to the silence. Nobody was watching him. Nobody else was there at all. He wasn't quite certain he was there either. His naked body pressed into the cold stone floor. He shifted trying to determine the cause of his discomfort. To his relief it was not as he feared, the brief image of Uncle Vernon flashed through his mind, he shook his head as best he could to relieve himself of the memory. He felt disembodied, as if he was there but wasn't at the same time. He crooked his head in his best effort to look out the window and gaze into the night sky. The moon was full once more. It had been a month since he was captured. He tried to understand why he was naked and on his front when the memory came back to him.
***End***
Blaise and Theodore had come in and freed him of his chains. He hadn't fought back because he was too weak to hold himself up much less engage in a fight. Blaise dragged him by his hair into the middle of the room. There were two chains hanging from the ceiling and two below them attached to the floor. He was hauled into a standing position before being chained once more. He tried his best to hold himself but instead hung there limply, the metal cuff digging into his wrists. Using the dagger, they cut away his clothes and threw them to the side. That was when the 'fun' had started.
They took turns whipping him and dragging the dagger up and down his back, every inch covered in a blood and lashes. He had cried out in mock pain hoping that like the many times before it would satisfy them. But what he found was that as the 'fun' progressed into its third hour his screams had gone from mock to real. The lashes cut into his bone. He had cursed Death with each new lash and chastised himself for the days he thanked Death for his tolerance. Between the deadly chill that lingered in his bones and the daily torture the pain had far surpassed that of his newfound threshold.
Theo had then taken hold of the whip and moved in front of Harry. He cast the whip across Harry's chest and force a terrible, drawn out scream from him. His head sagged. He cried out with each new lash until his voice cracked and faded. The sun, which had been high in the sky when they started, was now set, and the darkness crept through the window. They undid his hands and allowed him to fall to ground. A bloodied soiled heap of flesh and bone.
He had counted four full moons since his arrival here. It was now October. It was the only thing he could make sense of anymore. Everything but the stars faded from his mind. He didn't fear going insane any longer: he knew he already was.
Each day the men came to see him. He hadn't seen the other two since that first night but these four faces would be permanently etched in his mind. The torture was generally the same but every now and then they found new ways to amuse themselves. One day when they came in, a dementors following behind, he dared to ask why. They had laughed in unison before a knife was pressed to his throat, his head pulled back, and Blaise's face was there next to his, "we need something to entertain us until our new lord arrives and you're our toy Potter -shall we play?" he spat, his breath hot on Harry's neck.
He could never resist their brutal attacks and instead resigned to allowing them to pull one blood curdling scream after another from him. He had lost count of the days it had been since they healed and fed him- only ever doing so when he was a fraction from death.
He once thought to himself, why has no one come for me, only to remember that he had been absent from the lives of everyone who could save him for the past year. If they hadn't known where he was then they definitely didn't know now.
He let out a whimper as the door swung open and Blaise walked in, tears streamed down his face.
"Shall we play?" Blaise sneered cruelly "I have a new game for us."
***A/N Trigger Warning***
Another month had passed and he was now used to Blaise's solo visits. He had resided himself to this particular kind of torture. His mind was numb. His body was weak and used. He was fading and he knew it. Each time Blaise came to see him it was the dead of night and Harry used that to his advantage. He starred at the stars and memorized their patterns and constellations as the man abused his body.
Once Theodore had happened in during one of these visits and starred in horror at the scene before him.
"Blaise!" he hissed "What are you doing? Torture is one thing but this is a whole other level."
"You're just pissed you didn't think of it first." Blaise said plainly over his shoulder. "Here I've finished. Why don't you have a go, he won't fight it, hell I think he even likes it." He said getting dress and straightening his clothes.
"I thought you stopped this foolishness in school? What would Pansy say?"
"Who gives a damn what she thinks. I'm not getting anything from her so I might as well take what I want from him. It's not like he can say no."
Theo looked at Blaise worryingly before his gazed shifted to Harry, on his knees with his arms above him still chained to the ceiling. "We should go." He said after a long moment. Both boys left leaving Harry in peace, but he hadn't noticed. He remained where he had been quietly saying the names of the constellations under his breath. He didn't care what they had said, in fact he didn't care about anything, knowing he would soon be dead.
***End***
24 December, 1999
Snow fell in from the window creating a small mound. It didn't melt with the heat because there wasn't any. Ice clung to the walls- the dampness now frozen. Harry's pale, naked body still hung in the center of the room. If one looked close enough they could see the slightest warmth from his breath form in the air. His skin had a blue ting to it from both cold and blood loss. His long hair draped over his shoulder and stuck to the wounds on his back and chest. Most of his body was now covered in scars and wounds in varying stages of healing-the layers mingled together. It had been two weeks since anyone had come down to see him. Every so often he could hear footsteps on the ceiling above him. His body was numb and he found it hard to hold on to any semblance of thought or stay awake long enough to have one. He was patiently waiting to die and had completely resigned to this fate. This time he would not evade death and he wondered how he would be greeted by the figure.
"Harry?" a hooded voice spoke in a hushed tone.
He jumped at the sound though unable to raise his head and connect the voice to a body.
"My dear Harry. This is not how I imagined us to meet again." The voice spoke sadly.
The hooded figure moved closer to Harry and, placing a hand under his chin, lifted Harry's gaze to meet him. Harry's eyes widened to see the person before him. It was not Death as he had hoped but rather a deranged looking Lucius Malfoy.
"Ah how the mighty have fallen," he taunted "they told me you had lost your mind and were nothing but a shell but I can see they were wrong. There is a person still in there isn't there."
Harry sagged his body in defeat. This was the new lord they had been referring to. Far too many times had they crossed paths throughout his life. He felt as though he should have known. Lucius was far too weak under Voldemort but with his wife and son having been taken from him he should have known it would drive him to such lengths.
"Ju-just kill m-me" Harry managed weakly.
"Oh I intend to. Tonight all will gather and I will bring you out and end your miserable life. They will all see as I do what the Dark Lord couldn't do himself. With you out of the way there will be no one left to stop me."
"P-please. Kill. Me" Harry managed taking a breath between each word.
"Not ju-"
Lucius was cut short by a thunderous commotion upstairs. Releasing Harry, he ran to the door leaving it open as he rushed up the stairs. Harry couldn't help but feel excited. His heart raced and he felt a small amount of strength build as his pulse rise for the first time in days. Though he could do nothing more than hang there, still bound, he looked to the stars and listened to the fight ensuing above.
The fight dragged on. Hexes and curses were cast left and right. Ron dodged a flicker of green as it raced past him hitting a fellow Auror in the chest.
"Protego" he cast blocking another jet of green from hitting him. This was it. This was the accumulation of work he had been pouring everything he had into since the war.
"Clear!" he called as the last of the Death Eaters in the room fell to the binding charm. He motioned to a nearby Auror, "take him. I'm going to clear the cellar."
Ron turned and head for the stairs. A horrid smell greeted his nose when he reached the top. He grimaced, his wand at the ready, as he made his way down. He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him at the bottom. His wand fell from his hands as he crossed the room in only a few strides. He immediately undid the chains on the figures hands and feet, holding him as he collapsed into his arms. Ron lowered the man to ground carefully, "Help! I need help down here!"
He could hear footstep pounding on the floor as the team of Aurors rushed to his side. They all stared in horror at the man. It was Arthur Weasley who stepped forward and offered his cloak to cover the man's naked body. It was then that the man opened his eyes and spoke, "Ron?"
"Bloody hell… Harry?!"
The room was filled with exclamations and commotion before falling silent. It was Arthur who finally spoke, "Ron we need to take him to Hermione she'll know what to do."
"He needs to go to St. Mungo's not to her. He needs a healer."
"Ron, no one can know about this." This time it was Shamus Finnegan that spoke. "No one can know what's happened to him."
The other members in the room nodded and voiced their agreements. Ron gave in to the idea and agreed as well. Carefully he picked up Harry's frail body, "bloody hell."
"How is he even alive?" Shamus asked passing Ron his wand.
"He won't be for long." Arthur answered solemnly before grabbing hold of Ron's arm. "You all finish up here. We will report in later. And not a word about this."
There was a loud crack and the three of them were gone leaving the others to stare in horror and disgust at the room.
Hermione sat cozily in front of the fireplace enjoying the book before her. The room was decorated in silver and burgundy Christmas decor; un-melting snowflakes fell from the ceiling adding to her Christmas cheer. Her eyes felt heavy and the lull of sleep called to her. But just as she closed her eyes she was startled by a sudden crack. She stood and swung around quickly, wand in hand. She lowered her wand to see Arthur and Ron, the latter hold a frail form in his arms.
"Hermione help him." Ron begged.
"Help who?" she asked bewildered.
Ron tilted the form allowing the cloak to shift and reveal Harry's face.
Hermione clasped her hand to her mouth to hold back her shriek, tears brimming her eyes, "Harry!"
