bA/N: /bApologies for lack of beta...
bcenterChapter 28: In which someone utters the words, "I am so dead."/center/b p
Draco didn't know how long he sat beside Harry, worrying the edge of the bed coverings between his fingers.p
"Oh, Harry," he whispered, wishing he could somehow spare Harry from any more distress. p
"Piddy boy..." Harry slurred softly, managing to blink a few times and open his eyes. p
Just then, the door handle clicked and without hesitation, Draco dropped to the floor and rolled under Harry's cot. He thought it might have been Snape who was entering, but if it wasn't, Draco was certain that he would be in ideep/i trouble. He felt it best to forgo dignity and be safe. p
Draco's sudden disappearance confused Harry, but the opening door distracted him. Harry watched, bleary-eyed, as a Healer entered. p
"iColoportus/i," she said, as she strode across the room to Harry. The door closed behind her and seemed to shimmer for a moment. p
As the Healer reached his bedside, Harry recognized her, even through his sleepy haze. "Y-Yiwee?" he whispered. p
Bellatrix LeStrange spun in a circle and cast, "iMufliato/i," all around. It felt good to be doing magic again, but it was a strain. The Dark magic she'd used to Confund the wards and enter St Mungo's had cost her dearly. (It surprised her that Potter's room had no additional wards. She supposed the side of the light couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hurt their ickle hero. They were very, very wrong.) Of course, it wasn't her own wand she used; the Ministry had broken her first when she had been sent to Azkaban, and her second wand had been destroyed when the vile creature before her had murdered her Master. The wand of the Healer she had incapacitated – probably a Mudblood – was inferior, adding to both her fatigue and her foul mood. p
"Well. Here you are, my ickle boy," she sneered. p
Harry furrowed his brow, vaguely remembering something. "Pitty …boy?" he whispered, looking around a bit. That small effort was enough to exhaust him, and his eyes slid closed as he sighed. p
"Oh, 'pretty' boy, is it?" Bellatrix scoffed. "My, my, aren't you just the arrogant ickle sod." p
Harry's eyes opened again as he queried, "Darvey?"p
"Get up, boy," snapped Bellatrix impatiently. "It's time to go." She tried to pull his covers down, but they held fast. She hoped there was a spell on the bedclothes, else she was weaker than she realized. p
"My doe home now, Yiwee?" Harry asked through a yawn. p
"Oh no you don't! Stay awake, Potter. And stand up – quickly!" Bellatrix pointed her wand at the bed and vanished all the coverings. Then she pulled Harry into a sitting position and shoved his legs over the side of the now bare cot. p
Harry didn't resist. He was still experiencing the effects of the sleeping charm and was only mildly aware of what was going on. p
"Up, iup/i!" Bellatrix said harshly, and – casting a Featherlight charm – hoisted him off the cot with his arm over her shoulder and her hand around his waist. "I said get up, boy. I don't want you dragging me down during Apparition." p
iI am so dead/i, thought Draco from under the cot. As his aunt made ready to Apparate, he rolled out from his hiding place and grabbed onto her ankle. One loud 'Crack' later and the room was empty. p
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Crack! p
Bellatrix swayed a bit and dropped Harry to the floor. He landed with a soft grunt and lay still. Draco still clung to his aunt's ankle under hem of the Healers' robes she wore. p
"You idiot boy!" she shrieked. "I could have been splinched!" She viciously kicked at Draco, pulling her leg free from his grasp. Draco scrambled back, just dodging his aunt's foot. p
"I'm sorry, Aunt Bellatrix! You were leaving and I - I just panicked! You were my only hope of escaping those M-Muggle-loving traitors!" He gulped to catch his breath, hoping he'd been sufficiently convincing. p
He hadn't. p
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you on the spot, inephew/i." She aimed her stolen wand at his chest. p
Draco's mind raced, and before the thought had fully formed, he blurted out, "It was my mother's dying wish that I live!" It was a lie, though on second thought, probably it wasn't. And his pronouncement was met with complete silence. p
Bellatrix frowned at the young man before her. The nerve of him, staring up at her with her own dead sister's eyes, pleading for… What? Mercy? Well Bellatrix LeStrange had none to offer. She scrutinized him for another minute, before lowering her wand with an exasperated huff. "Proving once again that my dear sister was a fool," she muttered under her breath. p
Apparently Bellatrix Black did have a wee bit mercy, though Draco would soon find she'd used it all up on that one act. p
"Very well," she sighed dramatically, "I will let you live – for now – if you prove yourself useful and prove your loyalty to your dear aunt." p
"Yes, Auntie Bellatrix." Draco suppressed a shudder. He knew 'Thank you' would be going to far, and he was now embarking on the most difficult balancing act of his Slytherin career. He had known his Aunt Bellatrix to be unstable at the best of times. Here she was now, her Master dead, her sister dead – there was no telling what she might do and Draco knew he would have to tread very carefully, if he was to get himself and Harry out of there alive. p
"Make yourself useful, then, nephew. Bring my new toy –" she inclined her head to Harry's still form, " – to the dungeon. The Portraits can tell you the way." p
Rather than risk saying the wrong thing, Draco merely nodded, lifted Harry's limp form over his shoulder and left the parlour. p
Bellatrix banished the hideous lime green Healer's robe she'd commandeered. Her skin felt... tainted, and she could not wait one second more to rid herself of the stench of St Mungo's and all its simpering traitors. With that she spun on her heel and Apparated to her private bath. She planned to scrub herself raw and then soak in a bath of skin restorative solution. p
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Draco knew he was being tested. And that meant his aunt was certain there was no leaving the manor without her say so. He had little hope that she was wrong. He decided getting Harry as far away from his aunt as possible was as good a first step as any. And, it would give him a chance to refresh his memory of the LeStrange manor floor plan. He hadn't a clue as to how he was going to get Harry out of there with no wand, so all he could do was hope some brilliant plan would occur to him soon. He was startled from his worries by the sound of Apparition. Suddenly, Harry felt a lot heavier and Draco faltered, nearly losing his hold on the other boy. His aunt must have cast a Featherlight charm on Harry, which disappeared when she did. p
iDon't wake up, Harry. Don't wake up/i, was the silent mantra running as an undercurrent through Draco's thoughts, most of which were struggling to deny the impossibility of escape. What had his aunt said exactly? Take Harry to the dungeon? Draco took a few steps to the left beyond the parlour entryway, and came upon the wizarding portraits lining the corridor. "Which way to the kitchens?" he asked a surly looking witch he knew to be Rudolfus and Rabastan LeStranges' great aunt, Persephone. p
"Who's that?" snapped the portrait. The figure in the frame leaned forward and held up a pair of gem encrusted pince-nez. She peered through them down at Draco and his burden and let out a sniff of derision. "Is this the spawn of a Black?" p
There was a low rumbling of discontent from a few of the nearby portraits. Clearly, Bellatrix had made a strong impression on the LeStrange ancestors. Draco thought perhaps he could use the portraits' dislike of his aunt to enlist their help in escaping. He only hoped his mother had made her own impressions during her visits to the manor. Where Bellatrix was crass and base-like, Narcissa was class and elegance. p
Draco adopted a deferential tone. "Yes Ma'am. Lady Bellatrix is my aunt, but my mother was Narcissa Black Malfoy." p
The portrait raised an elegant eyebrow. "Oh, really. Hmph. That one was tolerable, at least, though I found her husband a tad too proud. That would be your father then?" p
"I'm afraid so, although I'm told I take after my mother." p
The portrait sniffed again, squinting through her glasses. p
"If you please, Lady LeStrange, could you direct me to the kitchens?" Draco held his face in what he hoped looked like an expression of awe and respect. He did not try for innocence, for he was sure that would only raise suspicion. The portrait's next words had his heart sinking, and he realized he needn't have bothered asking. p
"Is it not... the dungeon you are looking for?" p
iDamn./i She had heard. Of course she had. Draco cursed himself for his stupidity; he should have realized. Harry grew heavier. Draco tried not to shift and risk waking him, while he awaited the portrait's directions. p
After a moment, the Persephone in the painting lowered her pince-nez, and looked down on Draco with a smirk. "The kitchens, you say? Very well. Go back the way you came, boy. Take the second left and at the end of the corridor, turn right. Then take one left, two rights and the third left." After that, she sat back in her chair turned her head away, dismissing Draco and leaving him with a new mantra: p
iSecond left, right, left, right, right, third left./i He repeated this over in his head as he made his way down the seemingly endless dark corridors of the LeStrange mansion. p
The LeStrange family was known for its unconventional use of wizard space. When Draco was a toddler, he had wandered off during a visit to his aunt's – or so his mother had said. He had no memory of the incident. As his mother told it, she herself got lost trying to find him, in what she disdainfully referred to as the "LeStrange Labyrinth of Perfected Pretension." He was aware of an ache of longing for his mother then, but he pushed it away, replacing it with a determination to get to the kitchens. p
At last, his nose told him he was nearing his destination, as he detected the aroma of baking bread. He felt little relief, though. It simply meant he had to come up with the next phase of his nonexistent plan of escape. The house elves took no notice of him, and Draco looked around to locate a possible exit. In Malfoy Manor's kitchens, there was a door leading to a herb garden. p
By this time, Draco's shoulder and back were straining under Harry's weight. He lay the boy down gently on an empty work table and rubbed his neck. After stretching a bit, Draco lifted Harry back up and and eased him over his other shoulder. Harry didn't so much as stir, and Draco wondered if Harry'd been given a sleeping potion on top of the charm. p
With his burden firmly in place, Draco walked purposefully towards the door. When he saw a house elf glare at him and disappear, he knew he had lost. There was a loud "Crack!" and Draco stood facing his aunt. She looked happy, and he knew that to be a very bad sign. p
"And iwhat/i exactly do you think you're doing , dear nephew?" She tilted her head thoughtfully and tapped her arm with her wand. She was wearing a deep green dressing gown, and her hair was dripping water over it and the floor. p
"You said to take him to the dungeon. I asked the portraits and this is were they directed me." Innocent, but not too innocent, with a touch of 'I have been unjustly put upon'. Balance. Draco's Slytherin instincts took over and he felt strangely calm. p
Bellatrix gave him a skeptical look, but then said, "Ah. I see now. The LeStrange ancestors were having a bit of fun with a Black." She scowled and continued, "Cursed portraits. No matter." She absently cast a drying charm on her hair. "You," she pointed to the nearest house elf, "relieve my nephew of his burden, and put it in the place I have specially prepared." p
The house elf snapped her fingers and both she and Harry disappeared. p
Draco stumbled back at the sudden loss of weight. He hadn't long to ponder what Bellatrix's "special" arrangements were, for as soon as he had righted himself, he heard a "iStupify/i," from his aunt, and then he heard and thought no more. p
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iDark! Again. And cold./i Harry woke shivering, his body trying to generate some heat. He reached down to pull his blankets back up, but he couldn't feel them. He stretched his feet out – or tried to at least, but something big was at the foot of his bed and Harry found he couldn't straighten his legs. And his bed... Why was it so hard? Harry squinted in the dark, but saw nothing. Usually, his caregiver left the nursery door open a crack to let a sliver of light in, but tonight it was sealed shut. Then Harry began to wonder, was it really this dark? Or were his eyes broken? He rubbed them with the palms of his hands and nothing changed, but memories drifted back to him then. He had been at the lion man's house and then St. Mungo's. He sat up, only to bump his head on the ceiling, which was suddenly too low. p
"Ow," he said, grabbing his head in one hand and reaching to the ceiling with the other. Then he started feeling all about him. He wasn't in his bed. It wasn't a hospital cot, either. It felt like there were ladders all around him. p
"Pomfee?" he whispered hesitantly. There was no sound in the room other than his own breathing. "Anybody dere?" he said a bit louder. But again there was no answer. Soon Harry was pushing and kicking at the bars confining him and calling out loudly for help. "Pomfee! Dobby! Help me, I stuck, I stuck!" He called and called and nobody came. Soon, Harry was sobbing his pleas and then just crying wordlessly. It took a long time for him to cry himself to sleep. p
In a room just above where Harry was, dining on an extravagant welcome home dinner she'd instructed the house elves to prepare for her, was a very satisfied Bellatrix Black LeStrange. She was savouring Harry's desperate cries, as much as – or perhaps even more than – her meal. She reclined on a luxurious, satin covered chaise lounge (which she referred to as her 'listening chaise') long after the dishes had been cleared. She'd had her fill of food, but not of Potter's misery, when the boy's cries had slowed and then stopped. Bellatrix pouted, brushing crumbs from her meal off her skirts. This silence was no fun. She stretched then, her thoughts drifting along of all she would do to the Blasted Boy Who yet Lived. p
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"iLumos Maximus! /i" p
Harry sat up suddenly, whacking his head again. But he was distracted from the pain of that, by the pain of the sudden bright light that seemed to surround him. He held his hands up in front of his eyes as a shield, little good it did. p
He slowly became accustomed to the light, and made out a figure before him. As the woman's features came into focus, Harry breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. "Yiwee! Oh, Yiwee, I stuck in here. You can get me out?" Now that he could see his surroundings, it was clear he was, in fact, not in any sort of bed, his or St. Mungo's. He was in a cage! Like the kind Hagrid had for his recovering magical creatures. p
"What's the matter, ickle Harry? Don't you like your accommodations?" p
Harry looked at her quizzically, as she continued. p
"And here I made this especially for you. How very ungrateful you are." p
"Yiwee?" Harry asked, "How I getted in here?" p
"Oh, yes, and that's another thing. 'Lily' is the name of your very dead mother. You may address me as 'Lady Lestrange'." p
Harry was so confused, he didn't understand her at all. "Yiwee? What –" p
Bellatrix sent a stinging hex at his lips. p
"Ow! Yiw–" He was again cut off with a hex, this one so forceful, it knocked him back against the cage bars. Harry looked at her in disbelief. He blinked back tears and rubbed his lips. They tingled painfully. p
Bellatrix looked upon him in utter disgust. "You really are a horrid little thing." She swished her wand and all but one of the wall torches went out. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stop calling me 'Lily'." In the suddenly dim light, she made her way to the door. p
"Wait! Don't go Yi- Yady – pease don't yeave me!" p
Bellatrix looked at him pointedly, put out the last torch and closed the door behind her, leaving Harry in total darkness again. p
Alone, with nothing but his thoughts for company, more memories flooded back to Harry. He remembered that he needed to stay away from Madam Pomfrey and his friends until he'd gotten all of his bad blood out. And how he was going to be able to do that from inside this cage, Harry did not know. p
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The next time there was light in the room, Harry saw a large tub like the one Hagrid used to bathe Fang and his other animals in. The 'strange Lady' who was not Lily was back, standing beside a little table and chair and smiling in a most unfriendly way. Harry shuddered from more than just the cold. He saw they were not alone in the room. There was a little house elf that Harry thought at first was Dobby. But though the creature had the same large ears and eyes as his friend, it did not smile at Harry the way Dobby did. It looked angry and mean to Harry. There was a loud 'pop', and two more house elves arrived with similarly sour expressions. One carried a plate of biscuits, and the other a tray with tea service, all of which were set upon the little table. p
"My new pet is filthy. Bathe him within an inch of his life, and I mean that." Bellatrix sat down and arranged herself at the table – pouring her tea and selecting a dark chocolate biscuit – to watch the proceedings. p
The door to Harry's cage swung open and he hesitated only a moment before crawling stiffly out. His limbs were rather uncooperative after a night of being cold and cramped in the cage. He faltered and fell, scraping his chin on the floor. No sooner than he had cleared the threshold, he found himself floating up and over the tub. One of the elves snapped his fingers and Harry dropped with a splash into the water. He let out a shriek when the icy cold hit him, but that only resulted in him swallowing a large mouthful of the water. His eyes stung with soap and his chin burned where he had scraped it on the stone floor. He spluttered and coughed and tried to pull himself out of the wooden tub. But when Harry got a purchase on the rim, one of the elves pried his fingers off sending Harry back under the water again. He came up retching, only to have each wrist grabbed by an elf, while a third took a coarse scrubbing brush and began scouring Harry's arms. He howled in pain. His wet pyjamas clung to his skin, but offered little protection from the hard bristles of the relentless brush. It ripped the cloth as it moved back and forth. Harry struggled to break free, but it was no use. The little house elves were deceptively strong and they held him fast. p
Harry could feel his teeth chattering but couldn't hear them over the rush of water in his ears. The elf with the scrub brush had finished his arms and torso, and Harry's wrists were released. He drew his arms to himself protectively. He was cold, stinging and thoroughly miserable, but at least it was over. Or so Harry had thought. Suddenly, the two elves who had held him, plunged their hands under the water and grabbed Harry by the ankles. As they pulled, Harry fell back, and his head went under. He thrashed helplessly, while his legs and feet got the same treatment with the brush. p
Desperate for air, Harry felt his ankles released and he was pulled out of the water by his hair. He retched again, struggling for breath, when the water disappeared from the tub and he was let go. He wrapped his arms around himself again, wincing. He hurt all over and he had never felt so cold in all his life. He looked down at his arms. His sleeves were in tatters and the skin beneath them was red and raw, and stinging from the soap. Suddenly, a shower of cold water fell upon Harry, rinsing him off. Harry shrieked again and his head was yanked back so the spray hit him full in the face. p
"That's enough," commanded Bellatrix. "Dry him off." p
A large scratchy towel appeared above Harry and fell over his head. Again, Harry was helpless to resist as he felt the elves rubbing him down brutally. And then the towel was gone and Harry was let go. He fell forward in the now empty tub, panting heavily. Then he felt himself floated up again and placed back in the cage, the door closing him in. p
"I wonder, ickle Harry, if you have even a clue as to why you are in there?" cooed Bellatrix. p
Harry just looked at her dumbly. p
"Well? Do you, boy?" Her voice took on a hard edge. p
At this, Harry shook his head. "P-p-p-p-pease, m-my go ho-ome n-n-now?" he said through chattering teeth. p
"Home? Home! You have no more home, other than this cage. You are a foolish, ignorant boy, and you are lucky I haven't killed you, you ungrateful little horror." p
Then, to Harry's surprise, the woman's body began to change shape and shrink. Her hair got shorter and fur sprung out of all her limbs. When she was done transforming, Harry whispered in disbelief, "D-Darvy?" p
The creature approached his cage. Harry reached out between the bars for his dear pet. "Darvy, y-y-you help m-me?" p
The creature suddenly turned its head and snapped at Harry's fingers, drawing blood. Harry pulled his injured hand back in the cage and cradled it. p
"Gullible little twerp," said Bellatrix, in her Animagus form. "And there's no such thing as 'bad blood' or 'secret magic,' either!" The jarvey snorted and began to grow, changing back into human form. "Now do you see?" Bellatrix approached the cage. "I had to endure endless weeks locked in my cage by you and that oaf, Hagrid. And, if you will recall, it was iyou/i, ickle Harry, who did not want to let me go. So no, you cannot 'go home now'. You will never go home again, you wretched little thing." p
Tears streamed down Harry's cheeks. He didn't understand, and before he could even think of what to say, the woman made her final pronouncement. p
"You murdered my Master, imprisoned me, and now, Harry Potter, you. Will. Pay. p
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