Thank you all muchly for all the reviews!!! It's so much more rewarding when I get feedback from those that enjoy it!!! In return, I hope you enjoy the next chapter! Kit. xxx
Chapter 50:
Harry woke to find himself being half dragged, half carried up a path towards a large house. Through bleary eyes he looked past the procession of Death Eaters to recognise the old manor building built at the top of an overgrown hill overlooking a small village. Many windows were missing and ivy covered most of the front of the building, serving no purpose other than to hide the extent of disrepair and neglect that was once the Riddle House.
With a mental slap Harry wondered why they hadn't thought of looking there in the first place before he realised Voldemort wouldn't have left his home unguarded. It was bound to have every manner of notice-me-not, un-plottable and secrecy charms. No doubt Voldemort himself would be the secret keeper for his own fidelious charm. Harry doubted he would trust anyone else enough with a secret such as this.
Harry was currently being suspended by his elbows between two burly Death Eaters, his arms tied securely behind his back. Even though his mind was thinking clearly, Harry was unable to get his legs or body to function properly. It took a lot of effort to move his head up to look around, and his legs were so uncoordinated his feet were constantly dragging along the floor. The side of his face and his right shoulder were also sore from where Snape had hit him to the floor in Hogsmeade. With a sudden thought Harry realised that the curse that Snape had used on him had been intentional, making him appear semi-conscious and physically impaired whilst allowing lucid thought.
As they entered the grand but dark building, Harry had to wince as his ankles hit the stone threshold, causing the wizard on his left to lose his hold and drop Harry to one uncoordinated knee in the doorway. Harry immediately started to struggle, trying to pull his other arm free from the second captor.
He didn't really have any plans of escaping, not yet anyway, but he knew that it would seem too unnatural for the Golden boy of Gryffindor to be captured without any sort of resistance. But the weakness in his limbs prevented him from pulling free, and a sharp clout to the back of his head caused him to see stars as he was lifted again and walked across the main reception room through a set of double doors.
Harry continued to struggle as he was dragged along a long, straight corridor, but the two death eaters walking either side of him and the residue of the curse he had been hit with ensured he was never able to completely gain his balance. The result of which was that he was being pushed along at a stumbling trot, catching glimpses of closed doors and unmoving muggle portraits before being pulled up before another set of double doors.
The paneled doors were pushed open by one Death Eater to reveal what had once been a large dining hall. It was nothing compared to the size of the Great Hall in Hogwarts, but it still showed rich grandeur with high ceilings and dark wood paneling. The long table that would have once sat the Riddle family - and at which they had died Harry remembered - had been removed from the room. The only item of furniture that could be seen in the dusky light from the early winter sunset was a large empty chair set centrally before a large fireplace, facing out into the room and set upon a platform so that Voldemort could still stare out over his minions, even when sat.
At this moment in time the chair was empty. But even though Voldemort couldn't be seen, Harry knew he was close due to the dull ache in his scar that was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. Within moments, the low murmur of voices from the people already in the room and those that arrived with Harry ceased as his attendance was acknowledged by a voice that sent a cold shiver down Harry's spine and a stab of pain through the scar of his forehead.
"Harry! My dear boy! It's such a pleasure to see you again!"
Harry stumbled further into the room with a not-so-gentle push to his shoulder. He was given another shove before he could regain his balance and was forced to his knees, a heavy weight descending sharply into the base of his neck sending him the final distance to the stone floor and hold him there. He felt his glasses press uncomfortably into the bridge of his nose and the rim of this left lens cut into his already injured cheek causing the blood to swell.
He struggled to shift his face slightly to look at the Death Eaters to his right.
"Don't move, boy." a male voice from behind him said, and he grunted as a foot descended heavily onto the top of his back between the shoulders, pushing his face further into the floor.
Harry blinked back some tears of pain and looked around the room he was now in. From his limited field of vision he could see the large hall had long leaded windows looking out into the quickly darkening sky. He also spotted the heeled boots of Bellatrix Lestrange, standing near the worn, flat dragon-hide footwear of Fenrir. Between their legs, however, Harry made eye contact with the dark gaze of his old potions professor who was standing towards the back of the Death Eater crowd.
From his prone and vulnerable position, Harry was unable to work out how to read his professor's blank expression. He asked a silent question with his eyes hoping for a response from the professor that would indicate his loyalty to the plan they had devised. Harry knew Snape couldn't do much to help him at the moment, but for some reason Harry craved some sort of reassurance to give him the strength to carry on.
The turn-coat Death Eater dropped his head a little once he was sure he had Harry's attention, a movement which Harry interpreted to mean that he was on his own for the meantime. But the acknowledgment was all that he needed for the foolish courage that had given birth to the whole idea to come streaming back into his limbs, quickly spreading to encompass his entire body. He began to struggle, knocking his heels up and connecting with the wizard's knee who still had his foot on his back.
The weight moved and Harry rolled over onto his side and back onto his knees, surging up and spinning to face whatever Death Eaters were headed his way.
This overbalanced charge was brought to an abrupt halt as he stumbled face to face with the blood red eyes and snake like features of the darkest wizard of the age.
"Hello, Harry." Voldemort said, his lipless mouth widening into what Harry could only assume was a smile.
"No!" Harry shouted at him, spinning and sprinting in the other direction, only to be grabbed after a couple of yards and flung backwards on to the floor, his left shoulder cracking horribly as he landed on his bound hands, his glasses falling askew on his face.
Several Death Eaters rushed forward to help restrain him, but with a swell of magic and a snarl from Harry they were all blown back, many of them unbalanced and falling to the floor.
With a breath Harry found that the ropes that had held his wrists had fallen free, and he was able to use his hands to push himself to his feet. He sprinted across the hall away from Voldemort who - unbeknown to the boy who was running away from him - was grinning like a cat would when playing with a mouse.
Harry had stumbled the first few steps, trying to get his uncoordinated feet to work properly as he pushed aside the few Death Eaters who hadn't fallen prey to his wave of wandless magic. He now aimed his sprint for a small door to the right of the fireplace in the back wall. To his relief the door flew open at his touch. He spun on one foot, his arm flying out to slam the door close and then he barricaded the door with a long wooden bench that lined one wall of the corridor, making it difficult for anyone to follow him.
He spun again, pushing his glasses straighter on his face as he ran through corridor after corridor, going through a mixture of doors before finding himself in a tight, dark corridor with no windows. He shut the door behind him and stood still, trying to catch his breath as quietly as possible as he waited for eyes to adjust to the darkness.
His hand reached for his pocket where he kept his wand, and though he knew what he would find he still hissed out a curse as he realised that it had been taken. He mentally berated himself for not giving Kingsley his wand before he went up on the stage in Hogsmeade. No doubt Voldemort had it by now, and was planning on using for his own devises as it was brother wand to his own, if it hadn't already been destroyed.
He blinked his eyes a couple of times as the room became more in focus. It seemed to be some sort of servants corridor, with no carpet, no windows nor paintings hanging on the wall. An occasional wooden table lined the hallway, once resting places for silver trays lined with teacups and afternoon cakes whilst the servant would open the door to allow themselves access to the room beyond.
These doors only stretched along the left hand side of the corridor Harry was in. The right was solid panel, and he had to hold his breath tight as he heard clear shouting from Fenrir and sound of heavy footsteps pass as Death Eaters walked down the main corridor that ran on the other side of the thin paneling.
Once the corridor had quietened again, Harry quietly made his way through the darkness, trying to form some sort of layout of the building in his mind. He supposed that Nagini would be kept in one of the bedrooms, or maybe the study he had seen in his vision that time. But a manor this size would have several floors, each with numerous bedrooms, and though Harry could vaguely remember the directions to the study from his vision, it didn't help that he didn't know where he was at the moment.
With a start, Harry flattened himself against the wall again as more footsteps ran down the corridor alongside his own. It seemed that even through the manor was large enough to work against Harry's search for the snake, it was too small to be able to hide him effectively for very long from the large number of wizards hunting him.
He summoned his courage and took hold of the brass handle to the door immediately to his left. He quietly turned the handle and walked cautiously into the room.
He found himself in an empty room that was better lit than the corridor he had just come from. There was no furniture in the room that indicated once it had been used for, the only feature being a wide fireplace built into one wall.
Harry quietly closed the door behind him and was surprised to notice that the frame could barely be seen. The servants were obviously supposed go about their business without being seen or heard as much as possible… much like the House Elves in the wizarding world. He mentally made a note of this, wondering if he could navigate throughout the whole building via the servants corridors before Voldemort ordered them to be searched.
Harry started as he heard a voice call out from the main entrance door to the room. With a panic he tried to open the door he had just come through, but as his hand hit the place where the handle should have been it gripped thin air. The door must need to be opened with a secret catch that he knew he didn't have time to look for.
He cast his eyes around the room, looking for somewhere to hide. With a few long strides he made his way to the fire, dropping to one knee to duck under the mantle. He reached his hands up the inside, struggling to find some sort of handhold. Within a few moments he found a few missing bricks and was able to haul himself up into the darkness, bringing his feet up out of sight just as he heard the door to the room open.
He heard a few light steps enter the room. From the lack of conversation and rustling of thick clothes, Harry assumed that one of the few female Death Eaters had entered the room by herself. Not that he would underestimate a female. Duelling Tonks, Hermione and Ginny had taught him that he should never do that, but knowing that the person was alone and likely to be smaller than him gave him a little reassurance.
He winced as his foot slipped a little, sending a small flake of old soot into the fireplace below. With a grimace he heard a cackle from the other side of the brick chimney wall in front of him. There was no disputing the laugh - it was Bellatrix Lestrange that had entered the room.
"Oh-ho! I believe baby Potter wants to play!"
He grimaced as he felt the power of a spell coming towards him, and released his grip, trying to drop out of the way before whatever spell it was hit the wall in front of him.
He wasn't quick enough, and his body was slammed forcefully into the rear wall of the hearth as the brick in front of him was blasted apart, pummeling his body with bricks and plaster and suffocating him in dust.
He fell to the floor in a heap, trying to protect his head with his arms as debris continued to fall around him.
As the dust began to settle he looked up to see Bellatrix looking at him from a few inches away, her gaze caused a ball of fear to swell in his stomach, making him feel very sick.
"Found you." she whispered with a sadistic smile, before waving her wand and sending a spell towards Harry that he had experienced too many times before. "CRUCIO!"
Harry's back arched against the bricks that had fallen from the damaged chimney and his body spasmed as he screamed until his breath ran out. He had no idea of how much time passed before he became aware that, though his body was still jerking uncontrollably, the spell had stopped.
"He is to be alive!" he heard a voice saying.
In his blurry mind he could picture Bellatrix pouting like a spoilt child, but he had to be grateful to whoever had walked into the room as he felt a cloud of magic surround him, lifting his body none-to-carefully from the huddled heap he was lying in and carry him to the hall he had just run from.
It wasn't long before he felt his head once more aching with the close proximity of the Dark Lord. He felt heavy breath upon his face as some one spoke to him, but his mind was feeling decidedly shaky and he was unable to focus on the face in front of him.
He felt himself being turned over and his face once more pressed against the floor. With a detached thought, Harry concluded that he had lost his glasses in the chimney incident, and that was the reason why he was having problems focusing. With that simple thought he was able latch himself onto reality and force himself to push through the pain that was fogging his mind to listen what was going on around him in order to find out what was going to happen next.
"Bring me that knife!"
He groaned as he turned his head to the voice, seeing a flash of silver before "hold him down!" was shouted into his ear.
He felt what seemed to be an army of hands press against his back, pushing his body into the floor. With two sharps tugs he felt his shoes being pulled from his feet and he steeled himself in confusion. Being unable to turn his head to see what they were doing, Harry was completely unable to work out what their intentions were.
"Maybe this will stop you running off." Voldemort snarled, and Harry felt a sharp pain across the bottom of his foot.
He hissed in pain, jerking his leg to try and remove the sensitive soles of his feet from the source of the pain. The hands that held him gripped harder, causing bruises of their own as both his feet were slashed several more times.
When the hands finally moved from his body, Harry pulled his legs up, twisting slightly onto one side to bring them into his chest. He could feel the tops of his feet sliding in a thin pool of blood as he moved them, and the cuts across the bottoms stung with a pain that he couldn't compare to anything he had felt before.
"Now, where to keep you to prevent a repeat of that impressively strong and uncontrollable magic you possess?"
Harry tried to block out the silky voice as Voldemort walked around his body. His body involuntarily jerked again and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, a repercussion from the Cruciatus curse he had just been submitted to.
As he spat out a small mouthful of blood onto the wooden floor he noticed something large in the corner of his fuzzy eyesight, and rolled back just in time to allow something heavy slam to the floor inches from his head.
Harry coughed from the dust cloud that had engulfed his head as he was pulled to his knees. He opened his eyes again and could just make out the blurred outline of a large chest, it's top open revealing a dark interior.
"I've heard that you've grown up used to tight spaces, Potter." Voldemort said, and Harry began to sense where this was going. He started to struggle as the hands that held him started to push him towards the gaping black hole that filled his vision. "I'm sure this will suit your standards well."
Harry started to shout, unaware that his voice had already been broken by his earlier screams and that all he was emitting were painful croaks. He struggled desperately against his captors, and more Death Eaters came up to help control him.
His feet were pushed into the box first, and held in place as something hard was hit against the back of his rigid knees, causing them to fold and allowing the wizards around him to push him further into the box. He managed to get one arm free and swung his hand hard, gripping a handful of hair that he came into contact with and giving it a sharp tug before scratching his short nails across another wizard's face.
His retaliation was short lived as he once again felt something heavy land against the back of his neck, causing his body to fall limp and his eyesight to haze over, and allowing the Death Eaters to force him further into the chest.
He curled up in the sheltered darkness and looked up into the light that shone from torches mounted on the walls of the hall now that the sun had disappeared.
"I always wanted to show the world how easy it was to defeat you." Voldemort said in a calm voice, leaning into the box and running his bony finger down the side of Harry's face. "But maybe it will just be easier to bury you and forget you ever existed!"
Harry snarled and lunged forward, only to have his charge blocked by the lid of the chest coming down and locking into place.
He screamed in the sudden darkness, slamming his hands against the lid and pushing his knees against the side in every attempt to push himself free.
He didn't know how long he kept up his futile attempts, and wasn't aware of the point when his rage turned into distress or when his tears of anger changed to tears of fear.
He fell silent, exhausted, listening carefully for any sign of life outside the dark box he was being held in. But he heard nothing. He was alone, in the dark, without a hope.
He began to cry even more, realising one more important feature; He had failed!
