A/N: Warning! This chapter contains graphic depictions of torture.

Harry Potter: World at War
Chapter 35: Imprisoned

For a moment time stood still as everyone looked on, until suddenly, Voldemort's body dissolved, leaving a small puddle of black ichor behind. It was like a spell had been broken, and the fighting broke out once more.

Harry ducked beneath an obsidian curse, and fired a pair of shots from his pistol at the caster. Blood spurted from the Death Eater's throat as the bullets tore through him, and he fell back, his blood pumping helplessly onto the sand. Without pausing, Harry fired a Piercing hex from his wand, drilling a ragged hole through the eye socket of another masked Death Eater.

He spared a moment to glance around and take in the rest of the fighters. Barely a dozen of the Order members were still standing, and many of them sported minor injuries. Fortunately, the Death Eaters were in a similar state, and neither side had a true advantage. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Bill, Narcissa and Bellatrix were all still fighting, and seemed relatively unharmed.

"Probiti Trulež!"

As soon as he heard the Necromancer's voice, Harry threw himself to the side, wincing as he felt the spell tear through the back of his calf. Almost immediately, the wound began to swell up, and he felt blisters forming along the tattered flesh, pressing painfully against the leg of his pants.

Cursing quietly, Harry rolled away again, avoiding another curse from Susan, and bandaged his leg with a quick spell. It did little more than wrap the wound and numb some of the pain, but it was the best he could do.

"Schrattenbolz!" Susan roared, flinging a black curse at Harry's prone form. He managed to twist away from it at the last second, and was peppered with a blast of hot sand as the spell exploded beside him.

Harry scrambled back to his feet, ignoring the stabs of pain from his injured leg and quickly leveled his pistol at the girl. She hesitated for a moment, and Harry squeezed the trigger. The soft pop of the handgun was drowned out by the sounds of combat, but the clash of metal against metal as his bullet pierced Susan's silver mask was unmistakable.

Harry didn't blink as Susan crumpled to the ground, blood flowing freely from her mangled mask. He had been expecting to feel something else by avenging Hermione. Justice. Relief. Something. But he just felt empty. With a scowl, Harry turned his back on his former classmate, and moved to join the rest of the Order, every step sending a new jolt of pain through his body.

"Alright there Harry?" Bill shouted, tossing a crimson spell at the Death Eater he was dueling. "That was one hell of a shot you made!"

"Look out Bill!"

The stout Death Eater had taken advantage of Bill's momentary distraction and pressed his advantage, striking the curse-breaker in the chest with an unfamiliar yellow spell. Bill was knocked off of his feet, a thin layer of ice rapidly spreading across his torso.

"Bill!" Harry roared, sprinting toward his friend. He tried to leap over the Death Eater, but his weakened leg finally gave out, and he fell to the ground, his wand and his pistol falling from his grasp. Gasping for breath as a fresh wave of anguish shot through him, Harry gingerly probed his leg with his hand. It had already swollen to nearly twice its usual size, and the skin was blackened beneath his tattered pants. Susan's curse had done far more than he had realized.

Harry watched helplessly as the Death Eater turned toward him, hard eyes peering out from beneath the bronze mask. Desperately, Harry reached for his wand, willing the thin shaft of wood to move closer to him.

With a wave of his wand, the Death Eater Banished Harry's weapons out of reach, and pointed his wand at the teen. "You have something that I am going to need."

Harry felt the wizard's magic wrap around him, and he struggled to push it away with his own, but without a wand, he was no match for the Death Eater. With a gesture of the man's wand, Harry was dragged roughly to his feet, his battered leg screaming in protest.

"Stupefy!"

*****HP: WAW*****

Harry groaned as he finally regained consciousness, his mind swimming. The room was pitch-black, he couldn't even make out a shape within the darkness. He tried to remember where he was, but he couldn't focus, couldn't force himself to think through the waves of pain rocking through his body, radiating from his right leg.

After several long moments, Harry realized that his arms were bound, heavy iron chains wrapped tightly around his wrists and tied off somewhere above him. Harry tried to lower himself to the ground, trying to ease some of the pressure on his aching limb, but the chains binding his arms were too short.

Harry paused, gasping for breath as his leg throbbed again, agony spreading through him. He leaned back, trying to find a wall or something that he could rest against. Anything to help take his weight off of his ruined leg. He let out a cry of relief as his back pressed against cold metal bars, and lifted his leg, elevating it as much as he could within the confines of his bonds.

He was chained and in a barred room. With a sinking feeling, Harry realized that he was imprisoned. Images from the battle at Azkaban flashed through his mind, and he quickly realized that he was being held by Death Eaters.

A sudden orange flash lit up the room, and Harry screwed his eyes shut against the searing pain of the light. A small part of his brain wondered how long he had been trapped in the darkness for him to have such a visceral reaction, but he didn't have the energy to focus on the thought.

"Well, look who is finally awake."

The voice was deep and cold, but Harry didn't recognize it. Slowly, he forced his eyes open, grimacing as the dim light left spots in his vision again. Although he was clad in Death Eater robes, Thorfinn Rowle did not wear a mask, and his cold eyes bored a hole through Harry's.

Harry managed to muster up the energy to glare back at the Death Eater. "Rowle." He said, his voice hoarse and weak. "Let me guess, you're here to kill me?"

He quickly scanned the room, taking in as much as he could despite his poor vision. He was trapped inside a small cell standing against one wall of the windowless room they were in. There was nothing to help him identify where he was, and nothing that would him escape from the chains binding him.

Rowle laughed cruelly, one massive hand gripping the bar of Harry's cage. "If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you before Crabbe's Stunner wore off."

He leaned forward, his voice turning hard. "I want you to tell me how to revive the Dark Lord."

"Go to hell." Harry croaked.

"I've been to Azkaban." Rowle sneered. "That's close enough."

He jabbed his wand between the bars of the cell. "You're going to tell me whether you want to or not. Imperio!"

The blissful calm of the spell washed over Harry, and the pain of his injuries vanished, leaving nothing but a vague and untraceable happiness.

Tell Rowle how to bring Voldemort back.

The small voice was soothing and charismatic, but Harry had been waiting for it. It was much easier to break the curse if he had a direct order to defy.

"You didn't really think that would work did you?" Harry hissed, breaking free of Rowle's hold. "I've broken out of Voldemort's Imperius before. Yours is nothing."

"You should have just given in," Rowle said darkly, his knuckles whitening. "Now I'll have to get the answer from you the hard way. Crucio!"

Harry screamed as Rowle's curse took effect, and his body spasmed violently against his restraints. Rowle lifted the curse almost immediately, but Harry still slumped over, supported only by the chains wrapped around his wrists.

"Let's try this again." Rowle hissed, jabbing his wand forward. "After you killed him the first time, he was able to come back. Tell me how to do it!"

Harry groaned, but managed to look up and meet Rowle's gaze. "Bite me."

"Ictus!"

Harry grunted as the spell struck him across the left cheek. He could feel his skin swelling from the blow, and his glasses were knocked off, the frames skidding across the floor. His teeth cut into his tongue, and his mouth swiftly filled with the familiar taste of blood. Harry retched, spewing blood and bile across his cell, and slumped against his bonds, fighting to catch his breath.

"Don't play with me Potter." Rowle growled. "I have no qualms about torturing you until you give me what I want."

"I'm sure if Voldemort wanted to be brought back, he'd come find you." Harry spat recklessly. "Until then you should be on your best behavior. You don't want to go against your master's orders."

Rowle's face tightened, and Harry felt a brief flash of triumph at the pain in the Death Eater's eyes.

"Crucio!"

Harry's screams quickly faded away as he slipped into welcome unconsciousness.

*****HP: WAW*****

Harry woke up gagging, hot steam pouring from his ears. He was laying on a bed, with his head propped up by several large pillows, a potions vial floating by his lips.

"Welcome back to the land of the living Mr. Potter." A snarky voice drawled. "You should count yourself lucky. You had to have your heart restarted three times. And you nearly lost your right leg."

"Snape?" Harry croaked, his head swimming. "What's going on?"

"It seems that Rowle was negligent in his interrogation." Snape said silkily, handing Harry another vial. "Drink this."

Harry hesitated and glanced around the unfamiliar room. Had Snape rescued him from the Death Eaters?

"Drink it, Potter." Snape said again, his voice firmer. "It will help you recover from the infection in your leg. If I had returned to Rowle's manor even thirty minutes later, you would be missing that leg, and you could very well be dead."

Reluctantly, Harry took the potion from Snape and knocked it back in one swallow. He grimaced at the taste and set it aside. "You healed me?"

"Of course I did." Snape sneered. "You can't tell us how to bring back the Dark Lord if you're dead."

Harry froze. He had never been sure which side Snape was on, but right now his life depended on the man's help. Before he had time question the Potions Master, the door was thrown open and crashed into the wall.

"Alright Snape, I've given you plenty of time to heal the boy!" Rowle thundered, marching into the room.

"I was just about to fetch you Rowle," Snape said smoothly, rising from his chair in one fluid motion. "Potter seems to have recovered well enough from his injuries, but I implore you to be more cautious in the future. We cannot risk the boy dying until he has told us how to revive the Dark Lord."

"Don't lecture me Snape." Rowle growled, one giant hand resting on the handle of his wand. "Our Lord may have trusted you, but I'm not so sure. It seems awfully convenient that you don't have any Veritaserum on hand, and you want to heal Potter. I have half a mind to remove you from the wards and continue without your interruption."

"By all means, kill the boy." Snape said, stepping back from the bed and gesturing at Harry. "Merlin knows that I've dreamed of slaughtering the brat more than once. But if he dies, so does our best chance at restoring the Dark Lord to his body. Right now, we need him."

Rowle glared at Snape for a moment longer before releasing his grip on his wand and turning back toward the door. "Take him back to the cell Snape. I'll be down shortly."

Harry waited until the man's footsteps had faded away before looking up at Snape. "How am I going to get out of here? Should we run before Rowle comes looking for me again?"

"You can try to run." Snape said, flicking his wand. "But you won't get far."

The sheets on Harry's bed sprang up and wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his side and his legs together. "What the hell Snape?" Harry protested. He couldn't figure it out. Which side was the man on?

"Fortunately for you, Rowle will has the pleasure of gathering information from you." Snape said smoothly. "I assure you that if I was in charge of questioning you it would be much less pleasant."

Harry bit back his retort. He would have to trust that Snape was on his side and knew what he was doing. Otherwise, it was hopeless.

"I see you've finally learned the value of silence." Snape sneered. "Unfortunately, it is far too late for that."

With a wave of his wand, Snape levitated Harry's bound form, and moved fluidly out the door, Harry's body trailing behind him.

Harry took careful note of the path they took through the opulent manor, knowing that if he ever managed to get his hands on a wand he would only have one chance to escape.

It was only a minute or two before Snape paused in front of a large portrait of a stern-looking man. The placard above the portrait read Damocles Rowle Minister of Magic (1718-1726). "Signum." Snape said clearly.

Damocles' head dipped forward in acknowledgement, and the portrait swung open to reveal a set of stairs. Harry quickly memorized the password. He was certain that Snape had deliberately said it loud enough for him to hear.

Snape moved swiftly down the stairs, and Harry floated after him. There were only a dozen steps before Snape stopped moving again, and opened the door at the base of the stairs, revealing the same room that Harry had been trapped in before.

"This is your stop Potter," Snape said, flicking his wand. The sheets binding Harry released, and he dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Immediately, the iron chains rose from the ground and wrapped themselves around Harry's wrists once more, dragging him across the floor and back into the small cage.

"I suggest you use your time alone to try and recall everything you can from the night of the Third Task." Snape sneered. "I'm sure that Rowle will be interested in every detail."

Harry climbed back to his feet, and as he did so, he realized that his right leg was completely healed. Snape had done far more than just keep Harry alive, he had completely cured whatever curse Susan had used. He looked up to meet Snape's piercing black gaze and consciously dropped his Occlumency shields.

Thank you.

Snape's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and his lips pressed together more tightly. He didn't respond, and Harry brought his shields back up as his former professor turned his back and stiffly walked up the stairs.

Harry bit back a curse. He knew that had been a stupid move, but for a moment, he had been certain that Snape was truly on his side. But the man remained as much a mystery as he had always been.

He was only left alone for a few minutes before the door swung open and Rowle walked in, flanked by a pair of masked Death Eaters. Nobody spoke for a moment, until Rowle swiftly closed the distance between them and poked his wand between the bars of the cell. "Are you ready to talk yet Potter?"

"I'm pretty sure that Voldemort was a good little boy all year, and he asked Father Christmas for a body." Harry said easily, staring into Rowle's hard eyes. "Or maybe he wished upon a shooting star. Memory is such a feeble thing."

"Oparti!"

Surprisingly, the spell came from one of the other Death Eaters, a stout man with a deep voice. A wave of scalding water blasted from his wand like a hose. Harry locked his jaw to prevent from screaming as the torrent crashed into him, raising blisters all along his left arm and shoulder.

Rowle raised his hand, and the other Death Eater cancelled his spell. Harry slumped forward, panting, a slender cloud of steam rising from his seared flesh. Rowle grinned cruelly, leaning closer to Harry. "Crabbe rather enjoys doing this. If I were you, I would start talking before he decides to get creative."

Harry didn't waver. "I survived Potions with Snape. This is a walk in the park."

Rowle's knuckles whitened as he gripped his wand even harder. "Crabbe."

Crabbe's wand quickly raised again. "Crucio!"

Harry's screams tore his throat, but he refused to give in. He couldn't give them what they wanted. He couldn't let Voldemort return. Harry let his mind drift to his friends that he was trying to protect. Bill. Neville. Narcissa. Luna. Bellatrix. Pansy.

He latched onto an image of Pansy, her raven hair and hazel eyes. If Voldemort was brought back, she would be in danger again. He couldn't let that happen. Their playful banter from Halloween played in his mind again.

"Dark Lady Parkinson has a nice ring to it," Harry teased. He was joking, trying to relieve the tension in the room before the Order gathered at Azkaban.

"I think I'd prefer Dark Lady Potter." Pansy's teasing banter hinted at a future together that they hadn't even discussed.

As Crabbe's Cruciatus was lifted, Harry made a silent vow that if he escaped the Death Eaters, he would buy Pansy a ring the moment he made it home, despite his earlier decision to talk with Baron Parkinson first.

"Well Potter?" Rowle pressed, forcibly dragging Harry away from his mind. "Are you ready to give in?"

Harry struggled to catch his breath as tremors wracked his body. "Go to hell." He said weakly, unable to put any real malice behind the words.

"You've used that one already." Rowle sneered. "Hit him again Crabbe. But feel free to use your imagination."

"Delibro!"

A wide strip of flesh was torn from Harry's right arm, exposing the muscle and spurting blood across the cell. Another scream tore from his throat, but Harry tried to push the pain aside, focusing on his memory of Pansy instead. Her long black hair and alabaster skin. Their constant teasing, and her unrelenting innuendo. The familiar pain that flashed in her dark eyes when the memories threatened to break through.

Harry's train of thought paused, only slightly aware of Rowle demanding answers from him. Pansy's eyes didn't flash with pain. And innuendo was hardly her strong point. That was Bella. She was the one who had lived through unimaginable horrors, and somehow come out the other side. She was the one who never let a lewd joke slip past, and could hardly contain her banter. For the first time, Harry felt a stirring in his chest at the thought of Bellatrix Black. He knew he loved Pansy, but somehow, he loved Bella too.

As Crabbe recast the Cruciatus curse, Harry managed to hold onto the image of Pansy and Bella together with him, and he slipped into unconsciousness again.

*****HP: WAW*****

Slowly, Harry forced his eyes open, his head swimming as he finally woke up. He was still trapped in the cell, but his injuries had been healed once more. He glanced up at his arms, trembling against the bonds. Mostly healed, he rephrased. The after effects of the Cruciatus would linger for days afterwards.

Again, Harry wondered how long he'd been held prisoner. He had no way of keeping track of the time, but he didn't think it had been more than a few days. His lips were cracked and dry, his throat ached, and he was starving, but he still had the strength to stand. He was used to long periods of time without food or drink.

Harry closed his eyes again, trying to block out the hunger and thirst. This was the first time he'd been left alone with his thoughts since he first woke up in the cell. Surprisingly, it was easier to ignore the need when he was being tortured.

Although he didn't expect it, somehow Harry drifted off to sleep, his dreams filled with lavish succulent feasts and never-ending goblets of pumpkin juice. It was fitful rest, but it was the first time that Harry had actually slept rather being tortured into unconsciousness.

*****HP: WAW*****

"Ossis Praemium."

Harry tried to scream as he was woken by the Bone-Exploding curse, but gagged as a warm, coppery liquid filled his mouth. Shards of teeth slid down his esophagus, and he retched, feeling the broken pieces scrape against the walls of his throat. Blood and shattered bone sprayed from his mouth, peppering the sides of his cell, and Harry heard the raucous laughter of Rowle and Crabbe fill the small room. He heaved again, sputtering bloody bile and shards of fractured bone. His jaw hung at an unnatural angle, refusing to fully close, and a fresh wave of agony flooded his already battered nerves.

"Well done Crabbe," Snape drawled, catching Harry's attention for the first time. "You've taken away the boy's ability to talk. I'm sure he'll be most forthcoming now."

"Shut it Snape," Crabbe grunted. "Fix the boy's mouth and ask him the damn question."

"Certainly," Snape agreed. "I'll just need a bottle of Skele-Gro and a few hours for the potion to take effect. Teeth take time to grow after all."

Harry struggled futilely against his bonds. With the state his mouth was in, he wouldn't be able to cast most spells, even if he managed to get his hands on a wand.

"Fix what you can," Rowle ordered. "He needs to be able to talk. Crabbe, next time try to aim for parts of the body that he doesn't need."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the situation wouldn't be completely hopeless after all.

"Sorry," Crabbe grunted. "I didn't think."

"Of course you didn't." Snape sneered. "Make yourself useful and go fetch a bottle of Skele-Gro while I try to repair some of the damage you've done."

"Forget the Skele-Gro." Rowle snapped.

Harry's eyes widened.

"He doesn't need his teeth to tell us how to revive the Dark Lord." Rowle continued, a cruel sneer on his lips. "Just heal his mouth and gums. Leave the rest alone."

Snape stepped forward, brandishing his wand, already murmuring a lengthy incantation. Harry closed his eyes as he felt the man's magic knitting his flesh back together. The blood and shattered teeth were Vanished, and even his jaw was lifted, the muscle and bone healing under Snape's spell.

It was several minutes before the magic stopped, and although the pain had faded to a manageable amount, it was replaced by the excruciating itch of new flesh. Tentatively, Harry ran his tongue along his gum line, and experimentally opened and closed his mouth.

Snape lowered his wand and stepped back, his brow shining with sweat. "That's as much as I can do from here, but Potter should survive."

Harry looked up at the man, meeting his gaze. He couldn't be sure where Snape stood, but despite that, he was filled with gratitude for his former professor. Snape had been the one to heal him after each round of torture, and had yet to actually curse Harry.

"Thank you Snape," Rowle said nodding at the man.

Snape inclined his head slightly. "I must return to my potions. The Veritaserum is in a delicate state right now."

Without another word, he swept out of the room, his robes billowing behind him.

"You've had another taste of what we can do to you." Rowle said, stepping closer to Harry. "Are you ready to give up?"

Harry hesitated. Rowle and the others wouldn't kill him until Voldemort returned, and if the Dark Lord indulged in his usual theatrics, Harry might be able to make his escape in the chaos. Another part of his mind reminded him that giving in would bring an end to the torture.

Rowle grinned widely, sensing Harry's moment of weakness. "Well Potter?"

"Fuck you," Harry whispered, his words garbled and distorted.

"Ictus!" Rowle snapped, his wand blurring.

Harry grunted as the spell crashed into his ribs like Dudley's fist. He felt them crack under the force of the blow, and he was sure a massive bruise was forming, but he fought to block the pain and catch his breath.

"Now that we've loosened you up, let's try this again." Rowle hissed. "Imperio."

Harry braced himself as the haze of the spell settled around him.

Tell them. The small voice encouraged him. It's just going to get worse. You can't resist forever.

Harry set his jaw, refusing to give in.

They'll figure it out eventually. Pettigrew is still alive. He could tell them.

Harry closed his eyes, pushing back against the spell. He wouldn't surrender. He wouldn't be the reason Voldemort was brought back.

Once you tell them, this will all stop. You can finally rest. You might even get to see Pansy again.

Harry knew that wouldn't happen. Rowle would keep him alive until they revived Voldemort, but he wouldn't be in any shape to try and escape from the Dark Lord.

Go on. Tell them. You can end it right now.

Faces flashed through Harry's mind. Pansy. Bellatrix. Bill. Narcissa. Neville. Luna. Even Ron and Ginny. He couldn't put them all in danger by bringing Voldemort back. He wouldn't be responsible for their deaths.

You'll be protecting them. If you die here, the prophecy will never be fulfilled. And Voldemort will be invincible once he returns.

Voldemort wouldn't return, Harry silently vowed. He wouldn't break. He had lasted this long. Harry strained against the spell, trying to snap Rowle's hold over him.

You won't be able to break the curse this time. If you could you would have already done it.

Harry had a sinking feeling that the voice was right. Last time it had been almost effortless. He was much weaker this time. He didn't think he could resist much longer.

Even if you do, the torture will continue until you're even weaker. Then they'll force it out of you. Giving in now would save so much suffering.

Harry hesitated, he knew that he should have a rebuttal, but he couldn't think. The Imperious haze was clouding his mind.

Do it! Tell them!

Harry's mouth opened.

Tell Rowle how Voldemort was brought back. End this!

"Stop!" Harry screamed, his defenses finally crumbling. He felt everything fade away as he succumbed to the voice. "Just stop. I'll tell you everything."

Crabbe's wand lowered, and he looked to Rowle.

"Talk." Rowle ordered, his hulking figure looming over Harry. "And don't leave anything out."

"There was a ritual," Harry said slowly, enunciating the words as best he could with his ruined mouth. "It was at the Little Hangleton Graveyard. Voldemort was in some kind of homunculus form, but it was weak. No stronger than a baby. Pettigrew made a potion and dropped Voldemort into it. All I know is that it took the bone of the father, the flesh of a servant, and the blood of the enemy. That's what brought Voldemort back last time."

"He's lying." Crabbe grunted. "Trying to save his own skin. Why else would he choose a ritual that requires us to keep him alive?"

The other Death Eater shook his head, speaking for the first time. "I don't think so. I've never heard of this ritual, but those ingredients are powerful. Flesh, blood and bone are the core of a body. It seems like it could be real."

A small part of Harry's brain registered that it was Macnair's voice, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I've never heard of a ritual like that," Rowle said. "We need to look into this."

"I'll check with the elves," Crabbe said gruffly. "One of the libraries might have it."

Rowle nodded, and gestured to Macnair. "Check every contact that you can think of. Now that we know the key ingredients, we should be able to track down exactly what this ritual entails."

The Death Eater hesitated. "Rowle. . .it seems like the ritual requires the Dark Lord's presence. We won't be able to complete it without him."

"He'll come to us." Rowle said confidently. "We are his most loyal and his most devoted. We will be the ones to bring him back, and deliver Harry Potter to his grasp."

The other Death Eater seemed unsure, but obediently left the room, and Rowle turned to Crabbe. "Go catch Snape up on everything that happened. He will need to be the one to brew the potion. Then go to Little Hangleton and get the bones. But be careful. The old man probably has it under surveillance now. The Order saw the Dark Lord's body get destroyed, and I'm sure that they'll be expecting us."

With a flurry of movement, Crabbe and Rowle both left the room. It wasn't until their footsteps had faded away that the Imperius curse was lifted and Harry's mind started to clear, that the ramifications of what had just happened came crashing down.

He turned as far away from the door as his restraints would allow, and for the first time since being captured, tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He had succumbed. Voldemort would be brought back, and it was his fault. He had been weak. He had broken.

A/N:

Well, an awful lot happened here didn't it? After 35 chapters, and almost 3 years, we're finally starting down the path to Harry/Bella. I promise, it won't be too much longer now.

As always, check out our Facebook page, there's a link on my profile.

Thanks for reading!

—BETA OUT!