Summary: When Harry went down into the Chamber, instead of trying to save Ginny he got distracted. Amazing what one little difference can do.
Characters: Harry Potter. Tom Riddle. The Malfoys. Dumbledore. Sirius Black.
Warnings: Snark-Fu. Complicated pureblood customs and politics. Plots for world domination. Manipulation. Secrets.
Questions? Comments? Limericks? Put in your review. I'll answer if I can.
There's no mercy for me, no crying myself to sleep
No mercy for me, nightmares have become my dreams
No mercy for me, good morning reality
Let me go, let me go
All you see are the whips, the Maseratis Ferraris
So they don't sympathize, don't nobody feel sorry
No mercy
Good morning reality
Her body was a prison, her mind was a prison. Memories made up the poison on the walls. No matter how far she walked in the grassy expanse of her inner sanctum in the center of her thoughts, she couldn't escape the prison. It was large and wide and clear with blue skies. But the sky was only the lid of her box, the roof of her prison, the top of the cage. It gave the illusion of freedom and that made it hurt even more. She could beat against the bars, and glimpse in the spaces between vivid flashes of the real world outside, she could scream and curse and yell. No one would hear, no one would see.
Sometimes she didn't know if the prison was fake, or if she was. Maybe it was real and she couldn't touch it because she was unworthy, as fake things often are, to partake of the real things. She thought that maybe, once, she'd known what wind felt like and rain and even knew the sound of the rolls of thunder. She could almost swear those things were real, when she was especially close to the walls, and then she'd move away. The walls burned. The feelings faded. And then she wasn't so sure anymore.
Abruptly her prison cracked.
Vaguely she knew the blurry figure in front of her was a person. A nurse, that is what it was called.
"I don't know what you did," said a voice far too loud for her liking, "but now there's been an inquiry. Did you think they'd rescue you? Did you think we'd let you leave? Do you have any idea how much you're worth? How much we get for making sure you never leave?"
A pressure around her neck forced her to her feet. The pressure hurt but she was glad for it, she wasn't certain she could keep herself up on her own just yet. It took a while for the prison to fade and the real world to replace it. The nurse knew it. Maybe she was expecting her to give an answer? She tried to tell her she hadn't done anything but she couldn't seem to get the words out. She felt the air in her lungs, the vibration in her throat but something was getting twisted on the way out. She swallowed. It hurt. This was familiar...hadn't they done something? She couldn't remember.
"I don't know how you've managed to bypass your medication again, but we're going to put a stop to it. This isn't going to happen again, you're going to be a right good girl when we're done."
We?
More blurry figures. But not quite as blurry. She could see uniforms now and she was pretty sure she was in the clear room. Not the examination room. That was good wasn't it? But the nurse sounded upset. What had she done? She couldn't remember. Another attempt at an apology was fruitless.
Then she was standing on her own. Her arms flailed for a moment, balancing. Her legs shook but she stayed standing. A blast of water smacked her back against the wall. She gargled a gasp, hands pushing against the water, head shaking back and forth. Trying to escape the water. It stopped. She staggered, one arm holding her against the wall, gulping in great breaths. A hand from one of the other figures, a different nurse, pulled her forward, her bare feet slipping in the wet tiles.
Those hands pushed her, sliding, toward another figure that pushed her toward another. The water came again, she slipped with a crack to the floor. Her headed pounded, her vision spotted and she might have cried out if she could breathe. The water stopped. They hauled her to the feet. It started again.
Water
A game. she remembered now. They liked to play with her. This was the only game they knew. She didn't like it.
Water.
And she just wished she knew what she did wrong, they never did it unless she was bad. But she'd been good hadn't she? She couldn't remember the last time her prison let her out, what could she have done?
She couldn't breathe!
It stopped. She opened her eyes, spit out water and tried to sit up. A boot landed on her chest, heavy, slamming her back to the tile.
The bands around her arms were itching, they didn't appreciate the water game as much as her tormentors seemed to. Little bits of electricity shocked along her arm. Magic. That's what it was. But they didn't know that. They didn't like when she explained it either. So she didn't say anything now. He stared down at her with contempt, and raised a bottle into her line of vision. She didn't know what it was, but the man was smiling. It was going to hurt. A whimper broke out and she jolted her body, squirmed, tried to get away. Two other nurses fell on her and held her down. There was a wetness on her cheeks that had nothing to do with the water from the hose. Her breathing quickened and she did her best not to panic.
The man unscrewed the cap. "Scream pretty for me." He tittled it over her arms, where the bands wound around them. It burned and it stung and seared and the flames of pain encompassed her mind entirely. There was nothing else. Only the pain.
She screamed.
Fire. So much fire. It burned so why did she feel so cold? She couldn't see anything anymore. Blackness. Her body was heavy. A sharp kick to her ribs sent a flash of different kind of pain. Her eyes snapped open.
"Again."
The bottle tilted.
"Again."
She screamed.
"Again."
Blacked out.
"Again."
They woke her up.
"Again."
A new game.
"Again."
She was sorry. Whatever she did she was sorry. Couldn't they tell? She didn't know what she did but if they would only tell her she wouldn't do it again! She wouldn't. She'd promise. Anything to make it stop. Why wouldn't they stop? She'd be a good girl. She would. But she already knew. They'd play the game and then it was back to the prison. She couldn't go back. Not again. She'd be good!
The bottle tilted.
This happened as far back as she could remember. The prison. A game. The prison. A cycle. All that changed were the faces of the other players. She just wanted it to stop. Sometimes she thought about how to do it. How to kill them. The muggles. All kinds of elaborate things, like trapping them in pits and burying them alive or sealing their souls in mirrors or dropping them in the middle of the ocean. It made her smile. To think of revenge. She had never been the violent sort before. She thought she might be now.
She screamed.
This too shall pass. The game would end. She'd return to the prison. The prison would break and she'd return to the game. She could take the pain, because she had to. Because she knew the truth. The truth these horrid muggles would never understand. The worst sort of pain wasn't seen in asylums or hospitals or on battlefields or in the streets. It wasn't the sort easily identified with tear sickened cheeks, and it couldn't be stitched up or forgiven or wiped away. It lived inside of you. A monster with gnashing teeth just behind your skin that scratched and tore at your heart and your soul.
Blacked out.
And there was nothing in this world that could make it go away.
They woke her up.
There was a reason she had to keep going. She couldn't remember what it was right now, but it was a very good reason.
"Again."
She screamed.
