Chapter Thirty-Seven

"Fury"

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT. BE ADVISED.

Crouch seemed to gather himself for a moment, and gave his head a little shake. He took a reluctant step back from his prey, his eyes fixed feverishly on Harry's face, and his yellow teeth bared in a breathless grin. "As much as it pleases me to reacquaint myself," he rasped, "There's only time for business."

Harry glared, daring the man with his eyes. Crouch's grin widened, and he brought his knuckles together in front of him, cracking them loudly.

There was a rustling of robes behind them as Voldemort moved across his platform. "Continue, Bartemius," said the dark wizard. "Imagine we are back in the Black Abyss, and your Muggle victims are lined up behind the gate, waiting to be played with. This one deserves the worst of it, Bartemius."

"The worst of it?" Crouch asked with excited uncertainty.

Voldemort nodded slowly. "I want Potter defeated in every way possible, beyond the point of no return."

"My Lord, you said I wasn't to…"

"You weren't to spoil him, Crouch. But now, I am here. And I want you to do your worst."

Harry shuddered. Voldemort's words sent a pulse of undeniable fear through his body.

Crouch was turning back around to look at him, a fresh gleam in his excited eyes. "Thank you, my Lord," he said, and taking hold of Harry's ripped collar, hoisted the boy slightly further into the air. Harry's arms were numb, and this provided him with mere moments of relief, until Crouch set him down again. His toes stretched for a foothold on the cold floor and he tried to keep his balance.

"Like I said, Potter," Crouch sneered. "We'll start with some play." Behind them, Voldemort sank with a silky fluttering into the high-backed throne.

Harry stared at Crouch and Crouch's wand, his eyes wide and his jaw set. He tried to mentally prepare himself for what might come next, but the thought of Sirius only a few yards away, seeing all of this, tore at the edges of his nerves, and kept distracting him.

"The world will see what has become of their chosen one," Voldemort was saying, but Crouch's body blocked the sorcerer from view. "They will see who has finally destroyed him, and there will be mighty retribution upon those who resist me."

Harry grunted as Crouch gave him a light slap, before stepping back and raising his wand.

Harry steeled his nerves, his heart beating out of his chest.

"It all starts here, Potter," growled Crouch. "It starts with you. Crucio!"

Harry's body erupted in agony. Boiling, fiery lava coursed through his veins, burning and melting him from the inside out. Every part of him screamed for release, for anything to end the torment—he couldn't see—surely he would die any moment, and be free of it, but the pain continued, rolling through him like bolts of lightning. He thrashed and writhed, biting his tongue so hard that blood spilled over his lips.

When it was over, Harry found himself hanging limply from the ropes, sweat pouring down his face and neck as his whole body quaked. His head rolled and he retched violently, but his stomach was empty of anything to return. He could hear Crouch's harsh laughter, joined by calls and shouts from the other two Death Eaters in the room. He couldn't see them, but he knew they were with Sirius, and they could all see what transpired.

He retched again at this thought, and tried to raise his head.

Crouch came up in front of him, lifting his chin. "Not a virgin to that one, are you?" The man said, smirking.

Harry didn't respond. He probably couldn't have spoken, even if he had wanted to.

Crouch wasn't going to give him any time to recover. The Death Eater's wand was up again, and on his lips was another, "Crucio!"

…

…

…

"Take it, Dumbledore. It's ready."

"This charm has been checked, and re-checked?"

"Yes, and many more times. It won't harm anyone who doesn't bear the brand of the Death Eaters."

"And where is Snape?"

"At the Atrium entrance, headmaster. He's ready to pounce, on your word."

"Alright." Dumbledore took a deep breath. "Remus? Arthur? Kingsley, let us prepare. From here, there is no going back."

"Let's be done with it!" Said Kingsley heartily. "I want that devil to feel the sting of my curses!"

"Come, then," said Dumbledore. "Move quickly, now. Once the malumiator is in place, we need to move fast. Step up there, Arthur, and give me the apple."

…

…

…

"Intentus ventoris!"

Harry wasn't prepared when he felt the curse strike him in the gut like an iron fist.

"Vente! Vente!"

The curse struck him again, and again. Harry coughed, trying to draw his knees up for protection, but the pain of the ropes around his wrists increased tenfold. The pummeling ceased, and Harry let his knees drop back down. He could already feel heavy bruises spreading over his stomach and ribs.

"That was only a little fun," said Crouch with a laugh. "Are you ready, then?"

Crouch didn't wait to see. He barked another curse, and suddenly Harry's lungs were full of ice-cold water. He gasped and thrashed, but no air could enter as the water flowed out of his mouth, soaking his jeans and the floor. Frantically, Harry threw his head from side to side, trying to breathe, but he was drowning. His wet hair clung to the sides of his face as his struggles weakened and his eyes began to roll.

Crouch lifted the wand, and the last of the water spilled from Harry's lips. He coughed ferociously, and vomited the swallowed water from his stomach onto the already flooded stones. Then he collapsed against the ropes. Black and red spots threatened the edges of his sight as he hung there, and even through his despair, he held tightly to one truth. "You'll—never beat him!" He choked out between gasps.

Crouch looked incensed that even at death's door the boy was still defying the Dark Lord. With a hideous growl, he pointed his wand at Harry's drenched form. "Iocus!"He hissed. A leather band materialized over Harry's mouth, securing itself at the back of Harry's head. Harry shook his head, still struggling to breathe after the water curse.

Then, he felt the ropes holding him upright release his arms, and he collapsed to the floor. His hands weren't bound anymore.

Crouch stood over him, his eyes glinting down from above with all the maliciousness of the devil himself. Harry tried to push away from him across the stones, but his muscles felt weak and quivery, and his breathing was ragged.

"I thought you would enjoy that one, Harry," said Voldemort's voice from somewhere off to the side. "I asked Bartemius to show you what it feels like to drown, as so many of my faithful have drowned in the tide of useless morality and the hindrances of equality. Bartemius is running the show, however, and I'm sure it will be a good one."

Harry propped himself onto one of his elbows, and it was the most he could manage.

Then, Crouch was descending on him. Harry scrambled backward, but his hands and feet slipped in the water and it was only a moment before Crouch sat astride him once more.

Harry wanted to yell, to scream—it couldn't be coming to this. He gasped through his tight, leather gag, pushing against Crouch's chest with all his strength.

The man pushed down with his hands on Harry's chest, forcing the air from Harry's lungs. He let up, then pushed down again, harder, eliciting a fresh cry of pain from Harry's lips that seemed to excite the man even further.

Then, Harry's worst nightmare was born. He felt Crouch's hands below their chests, and the man was fiddling with Harry's pants. He yanked them undone, and gave them a tug, sliding them over Harry's hips.

Crouch slipped a finger beneath the fold of Harry's jeans and trailed it along the length of the inside hem. The fingers were cold, but Harry's face burned with hot shame. He felt Crouch's hand seek deeper, to the hem of his boxer briefs.

Harry kicked up with his knees, pushing Crouch away for all he was worth, but his efforts may as well have been against an elephant. Crouch would not be moved, and his hands were now exploring deeper.

"Stop! Please!" Harry's words were muffled and indiscernible through the gag over his mouth, and he turned his face away, wanting to sink through the floor.

The man's hand withdrew, and he brought it up to Harry's face, cupping it and forcing Harry to look at him again. Then the man lowered down against Harry, resting all his weight on the boy's sleight frame.

Crouch gave a shove into Harry, and a wicked smile lit up his face. The man kept a grip on Harry's jaw, keeping him from looking away. The Death Eater shoved into him again from above. There were jeers and catcalls from around the room as Crouch pushed up on him with a quickening rhythm, rutting against him through their clothes. Crouch's face grew taut and strained as he moved, shoving harder and harder on Harry's front. Harry's hands scrabbled at Crouch's face, and he pulled fiercely at the hand around his jaw, but he was no match for Crouch's bulk.

Then Crouch gave a prolonged grunt, with a last hard rut, and was still. He lay atop Harry's body, both of them panting for air, and stared down at Harry's face.

"That was as good as it's going to get," Crouch murmured, his nostrils flaring. "But better than I expected." He heaved himself off of Harry and stood above him, wiping sweat off his forehead. "I wanted to enjoy that before you were mangled beyond recognition."

Harry rolled onto his side, covering his stomach with his arms. He felt disgusted, and dirty, and unable to move. Every muscle in his body had gone slack, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was barely breathing.

"Now that I've gotten what I wanted—or, most of it, at the very least," Crouch drawled, "I suppose there isn't much left to do."

Harry lay silently, trying to keep breathing.

"My Lord, am I right to assume it's time for business?"

"That is an avid assumption, Bartemius. The boy looks ready for this to be finished."

"Yes, my Lord, I quite agree," Crouch sounded thrilled. "Thank you, my Lord, for letting me…" His voice trailed off, and a moment later, Harry realized why.

A buzzing had begun, low in pitch but loud enough to reverberate through the entire room. A blue glow was emanating from the corner of the room where Harry knew the traveler's tunnel had been.

Voldemort stood, his pale face angry and his scarlet eyes fixed on the tunnel.

"My Lord?" Asked one of the Death Eaters loudly, "Who—?"

"Silence!" Ordered Voldemort, his eyes narrowed. His wand was in his spidery hand, and Crouch drew away from Harry toward his master.

The low hum intensified around them, and Harry stared at the tunnel as a blue focal point of light began to expand at its center.

"Is it one of ours, my Lord?" Asked Crouch nervously, unable to stop himself.

Voldemort remained silent, looking more and more outraged.

"Who could it—?" A Death Eater cried.

"It couldn't!" Another snapped back.

The traveler's tunnel burst into operation with a flare of noise and color, very unlike when Harry had gone through it. He could barely see it beyond Crouch and Voldemort, and he forced himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the shaking in his arms and legs. He stared at it, wide-eyed, and held his breath.

Out of the portal fell an apple. It was small, and red.

Harry stared at it, completely dumbfounded. He couldn't tear his eyes away from it to gauge the reactions from the others.

Then, the apple exploded in a million fragments of colored light. It beamed out in all directions with the force of an Unforgivable Curse. Sirius and the two Death Eaters with him were nearest to the blast. When it hit them they all collapsed forward, including Sirius, his Body-Lock failing. The white and colored light hit Harry and Crouch a split second later. It flowed through Harry, warm and comforting, sending him backward onto the floor once more.

As he hit the floor, the explosion was over. Somewhere near him, Crouch was groaning indistinctly, and Harry could hear the other Death Eaters making similar sounds.

Sirius, however, was quickly recovering, his eyes fixed on Harry as he got to his feet. He pulled a wand from the clasped fingers of an unconscious Death Eater and made his way staggeringly across the room.

Where was Voldemort?

Harry raised himself to his shaky elbows again, casting around the room for any sign of the sorcerer, but the platform at the back of the room was deserted.

Sirius made his way stiffly to Harry's side and knelt, reaching for the gag around Harry's mouth.

Harry flinched, but then mentally scolded himself, and locked eyes with Sirius, leaning into the man's hand so he could get the leather untied. "Why didn't we pass out, like the others did?" Harry rasped, as soon as he could speak.

"I don't know what happened," said Sirius in an undertone, throwing the length of leather to the side. "Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly. His fingers and toes were starting to tingle as blood flowed into them.

Sirius stared at him, unbelieving, and reached down toward Crouch. There was something akin to hate in his eyes as he pried the Death Eater's wand loose, and handed it to Harry. "Here, take this," he said in a low tone.

At that moment, Crouch's eyes flew open and his hand swung up, latching onto Sirius's arm. They began to grapple with each other, and Crouch let out a roar, fully awake now as he and Sirius fought. It was then that several figures erupted from the center of the traveler's tunnel, landing on their feet in the cold room.

Harry dove into the tangle of Sirius and Crouch, landing a hard strike on Crouch's temple. It distracted Crouch, who was then too slow to avoid the spell Sirius sent at him with his own hijacked wand.

"STUPEFY!" Sirius yelled.

The back of Crouch's head hit the floor, and Harry rolled away with Sirius not far behind. Sirius leaped to his feet to face the room, heaving Harry up beside him by an arm. Harry's legs wavered and he leaned into Sirius, who kept him on his feet without taking his eyes off the newcomers. Harry looked at them.

His jaw dropped.

If Sirius hadn't been there, Harry might have thought he'd gone mad. Before them stood Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, Mr. Weasley, Tonks, and numerous others Harry had never met.

They were gazing at Harry and Sirius with utter relief plain in their eyes. Tonks and Mr. Weasley rushed over to them, while Dumbledore, Lupin, Snape, and the others spread out across the room in other directions. Harry felt hands embracing him, saw them embracing Sirius, but he felt numb. He stared into Mr. Weasley's face, frowning.

"What—what happened?" He asked, his voice cracking.

"A berbidus charm," Mr. Weasley told him hurriedly. "But there isn't time to explain."

Harry shook his head in befuddlement, his wide eyes sweeping the brightening room.

"There isn't time!" Insisted Mr. Weasley, taking Harry firmly by the upper arm. "You-Know-Who could be anywhere, he escaped the charm. We've breached the other entrances, and things have gone south inside the safe room. We don't know how badly. Sirius?"

Sirius leaned in, throwing a strong arm around Harry's shoulder, holding him close.

"You have to get Harry back through the wizard's bridge now,before it closes, or worse! Get Harry to safety, we'll worry about these prisoners." Mr. Weasley gave Crouch's lifeless body a nudge with his foot.

Something gleamed in Sirius's eye as he gave a short nod to Mr. Weasley. He began herding Harry toward the still-humming tunnel while Mr. Weasley joined the other members of the Order. The others Disapparated two-by-two, leaving Harry and Sirius alone by the traveler's tunnel with only three unconscious Death Eaters for company.

"I want to stay and fight," Harry protested, as Sirius pushed him toward the tunnel.

"Go!" Yelled Sirius, giving Harry a hard shove toward the tunnel, and unexpectedly turning back to face the empty room. Harry felt electric beams of light pull away from the shimmering portal, reaching for him, but he stepped back, and they let him go.

Harry turned just in time to see Sirius heading for the limp body of Barty Crouch, Jr. Sirius had a wand pointed down at Crouch's heart, and a murderous look in his eyes.

"NO!" Yelled Harry, and he threw himself toward them. Reluctantly, Sirius looked back at him. "Don't kill him!" Harry yelled, feeling hot tears in his eyes as he ran toward Sirius.

"I have to," Sirius growled, and Harry barely recognized the voice.

"No!" Harry shouted again, coming up short when he reached Sirius, and grasping for the wand. "I can't let you become a killer!"

"I can't accept that," Sirius ground out. He allowed Harry to push the wand away from Crouch toward a space of empty floor. The man's fists were clenched, and his face was white. "I can't let him live, Harry. Not after… not after what he…" Sirius trailed off, and Harry was shattered to see him shut his eyes in pain.

"You can't kill him," said Harry again, panting. "I don't want you to. I can't let you be made a murderer for the likes of him."

To Harry's despair, he glimpsed a tear slip down Sirius's cheek as his godfather stared down at Crouch, working his jaw. After a long moment, he seemed to pull himself out of a dark reverie. "It's not my place to decide…" he said in a grated voice. "Think carefully, Harry."

"Don't do it," said Harry quickly. He couldn't understand why he felt so strongly about it, but he did.

Sirius stared down at Crouch's slackened face for one more long moment. "It's your choice, Harry," he finally said, and turned away from the Death Eater in disgust.

Harry kept a hold of Sirius's shoulder, not wanting to let go, and Sirius turned to face him with unfathomably troubled eyes. "Come on," said Sirius. "We're out of time."

Harry followed Sirius to the traveler's tunnel.

"You're first," said Sirius, guiding Harry forward so that he stood ahead of him. Harry looked into the tunnel, hoping he would find the same dark cellar on the other side that he had left. Sensing Sirius's presence behind him, Harry glanced back at his godfather. Sirius was wiping a tear from his cheek. Seeing Harry looking, Sirius clasped him gingerly by the shoulder, and ushered him forward. Feeling a lifetime of sadness fill him at the sight of Sirius's tears, Harry faced forward and stepped into the portal.