A/N: Okay,
the first trial… a bit on the humorous side. I'm going to try to be a bit more serious this time (try, mind you), so
I'm sorry if that disappoints some. I
tend to go back and forth a bit between the Hall and Hogwarts, so I just wanted
to let you know what was going on. Well, enjoy.
Chapter 24: Waning Wizard's War: Round Two
*ding* (You try and think of a title!)
Harry
came into the Hall at the same time as Voldemort the next morning. They gave each other a glare, but the old
wizard quickly caught their attention.
"Time
for the next trial!" the man said briskly, "Come over here then. Not that we haven't got all the time we
need, but I'd like to get this over with."
Harry
suddenly realized something with a jolt. "Um…sir?" he asked, "What about our friends? Will they know where we are right now?"
"No
need for that," the wizard answered, "You see, no matter how long the three
trials take, when you return to the forest from whence you came, no time shall
have passed. Well, perhaps a second or
two if we take an especially long time."
This
only raised more questions in Harry's mind, but he decided to just let it be.
"There
is no greater pain than a memory," the man said, his bony hands gesturing idly,
"And so you must face the worst personal memory met by the heart."
"Not
much of a trial," Voldemort sneered.
"Ah,
but you aren't as lucky as you think, my Tom," he continued in almost a
chuckle, "Why should your own memory be so painful? You have already lived it and so know how to get through it. Instead, you will feel how it is in your
enemy's shoes. You must triumph over
the memory, proving that you are greater than your enemy, for they have lived
it before and did not fare so well."
Harry
got a sinking feeling at hearing this, for the last thing he wanted was to know
what it was like to be Lord Voldemort. However, he had no time to even object, for a sudden wind seemed to rush
up, and Harry found himself in a completely different room, all alone.
There
wasn't much to say about the room. Four
cracked, white-washed, plaster walls; a slab of chipped wood which might have
once passed for a chest of drawers; and he sat on an iron bed—if it could be
called as much—with only a ragged, stained mattress on it. A rotten wood door was right across from
Harry, a stained bit of iron apparently supposed to be the doorknob. He didn't get much chance to look at this,
however, when it was flung open.
In
rushed a man who could only be described as thin and well oiled. He wore a suit that was shockingly clean in
such a dismal room. In his hands he
held a belt of worn leather with an iron buckle. His face contained, besides a small mustache, a look of complete
rage. Without even saying a word, he
marched right up to Harry and cuffed him across the face.
"How
dare you, boy!"
"What'd
I do?" Harry asked, alarmed.
"Don't
be insolent to me, Tom!" he yelled, yanking him off the bed by his ear,
spinning him around, and then forcing him to kneel before the bed.
"Lift
up your shirt!" he yelled.
"What?!"
"Very
well then; I've gotten through cotton before. But if you so much as mention getting a new shirt when winter comes,
you'll find yourself on the streets!"
And
then, without warning, Harry heard the whip of the belt and felt a sharp sting
against his back.
Harry
spun around, yelling, "What are you-"
"How
dare you turn around when receiving your punishment!" the man snarled, forcing
Harry to turn back around, "You'll get the buckle for that, boy!"
The
next blow, Harry felt stung of metal, and he heard his shirt rip. Again and again the blows came, each causing
Harry to cry out in agony, begging to know why this was happening.
"You
are nothing, Tom!" the man roared, fairly spitting out the words, "You're the
worthless spawn of a weak woman and a deadbeat dad! You were born a useless child and shall die a pathetic man; and
the world should care less if your next breath was your last!"
The
belt came down again, but the tears that sprang to Harry's eyes came because of
the sting of the words, not the sting of the metal. He could almost see his Uncle Vernon's livid face screaming those
words. Yet his aunt and uncle never had
actually beaten him. No, they left
their son to that line of work. It had
been their words—those verbal thrashings—that had left him curled up on his
lonely cot under the stairs, wishing that he wouldn't wake to see the light of
another awful day.
Yet
he wasn't a child anymore, Harry realized, not even feeling the next belt as he
opened his eyes. Children were all but
powerless in these kind of situations, but he wasn't a child. He'd spent the last six years growing up,
finding out that he was worth more than dust in the wind, realizing that he was
better than those who had looked down upon him.
"I
am not worth nothing!" he yelled, spinning around and snatching the belt
as it came down to deal him another blow, "I am a human being! My parents were kind and good, and as their
son I don't deserve punishment for something I didn't do! You can't beat me like this!"
The
words didn't seem to penetrate the man's thick skull, and he angrily tugged the
belt back, then swung it forward, catching Harry across the cheek with the
buckle. The boy cried out, falling
roughly onto the bed.
"Be
thankful it isn't more, for I should flog you within an inch of your life for
such defiance," the man growled menacingly, "But I have a meeting with some
contributors, and so your thrashing shall have to wait for another time."
Then
he stomped from the room, slamming the door as he went. For a long time, Harry lay on his bed in
shock, feeling the blood course down his cheek. He wondered with horror whether this was just the beginning of
the task, whether he'd have to face another beating the next day, and probably
the next. The thought engulfed him, as
a wave engulfs a drowning man. Silently, violently, Harry Potter began to cry; and for the first time
in years, he wished he were dead.
And
then he woke up.
For
a moment, Harry lay there, unsure what was real and what was a dream. The sting still seemed to linger on his
cheek, yet here he was, in his bedroom in the Hall. There was no dried blood on his jaw, no holes where the belt
buckle would have ripped through his shirt…nothing. He almost broke down in tears with relief. After looking around the room one more time
to check that it was still there, Harry lied down in a vain attempt to
sleep. He was thankful that this really
hadn't been the second trial, for if it had, he had a sinking suspicion he would
have lost.
"Bad
sleep, Potter?" Voldemort asked when Harry walked into the room.
Harry
gave him a questioning look, but received no answers from the smiling man
slouched in an armchair and playing idly with his wand. He felt a hand on his shoulder and Harry
turned to face the old guide. Or
rather, to find the black area that would normally have contained a face.
"When
you stopped that belt, I was almost positive you had won," the man said, with
something of a sad sigh, "The tide often turns where we least expect, however."
"What?"
Harry whispered in horror, "That was the task, not just a dream?"
Voldemort's
high-pitched laugh answered him. "Oh
Potter, you are a riot! You honestly
didn't know that that was the second trial?! That's almost as pathetic as that sorry excuse for an awful memory I had
to be in."
Harry's
face burned with embarrassment and rage, but he just kept his gaze on the old
wizard.
"That
hardly seems like a fair task for one who is heartless," he argued, pointing at
the Dark Lord.
"Flattery
will get you everywhere, Potter," Voldemort smiled.
"Fair
or not, Harry," the wizard said, almost regretfully, "that's the way it is."
"Bring
on the third trial, old man," Voldemort said, standing up, "I am ready."
"That
shall start in twenty-four hours," the man replied steadily, "You will find,
Tom, that this is the most grueling of all the tasks, and you'll be wanting
your energy."
"If
it's anything like the last one, poor Potter here might as well kiss his soul
good-bye," the Dark Lord smiled, gliding out of the room.
Harry
wanted to yell back a retort, but something churning in his stomach—doubt
perhaps—didn't let the words get past his lips.
****
Sirius
Black sat alone in the Headmaster's Office. His eyes stared blankly at the wall, trying to contemplate why a boy
like Harry, with parents like James and Lily, had to suffer through such a
life. Of course, it always came down to
one answer: Voldemort.
His
thoughts were suddenly interrupted, however, when a figure suddenly seemed to
come down from the chimney, calmly brushing the soot from his robes.
"Remus,"
Sirius said, trying to smile.
"Sirius… Padfoot," Remus murmured, spotting him and
taking him into an embrace, "I just got the owl and hurried over. Hagrid had to take care of a few things, but
he'll come as soon as he can. Any
news?"
"None,"
Sirius sighed, "Oh Moony, if you had seen it. The looks on those poor girls' faces… Hermione was more than near tears, yet Azar seemed quiet and sensible. But in her eyes… I almost thought I was
looking at Lily after we heard the news that Death Eaters had usurped James'
train."
"But
James came out of that all right," Remus said with a comforting smile, "And I'm
sure Harry will be fine, too."
"This
isn't Death Eaters and a train full of people, Moony. This is Voldemort, and Harry alone against him."
Suddenly
the door to Dumbledore's office opened, and in stepped Severus Snape.
"Well,
hello there," he said, almost pleasantly, "I was just looking for Albus. What's with the glum faces?"
"We're
a little troubled right now, Severus," Remus sighed.
"Is
it anything I could help with?"
Sirius
glared at the man. "Harry's
disappeared."
"Really?"
Snape asked, with genuine concern, "I do hope he's all right; don't you?"
Sirius'
expression was livid.
"Why
you…" he growled, launching himself at Snape.
Remus
quickly intervened, holding Sirius back, who fought to get out of his friend's
grip only half-heartedly.
"Don't
you dare pretend you give a damn about Harry!" he glared, "You hated James and
you hate his son, Snape, and your phony anxiety isn't fooling anyone!"
"Why
should I pretend?" Snape asked, confused, "I've always worried about Harry's
safety."
"YOU
SLIMY SLYTHERIN SNAKE!!!" Sirius roared, flying from Remus' hold and ramming
into Snape.
However,
they weren't scuffling for long. "Experlliarmus!"
Sirius
flew back into the wall, sliding to the ground. He shook his head, then glared up at Snape.
"I'll
get you for that, you-"
"It
wasn't him, Sirius. I did it."
Sirius
turned to find Dumbledore had entered, holding his wand out.
"Albus? But why? He-"
"Had
nothing to do with Harry's disappearance and so doesn't deserve your anger."
"I'm
sorry for what I may have done to upset you, Sirius," Snape said
apologetically.
Clouds
seemed to come over Sirius' face.
"I'll
give you something to be sorry about!" he yelled, bounding to his feet.
"Sirius!"
Dumbledore said sternly, pointing his wand at the man, "I don't want to do that
again, but I will."
Sirius
grumbled, but cooled off. "What is with
him?" he mumbled.
"Let's
say I choose a bad day to play a practical joke," Dumbledore smiled wanly, "But
I think we need the real Severus back."
He
went to his desk, pulling out a vial.
"Here,
Severus. Drink this."
A
little perplexed, Snape did so, giving a shiver. Then he looked back up at Dumbledore, that familiar scowl back
with a vengeance.
"I
would have expected something like that from my students, Albus," he said
stiffly.
"Sorry,
Severus," Dumbledore chuckled, "I thought just a week wouldn't hurt."
Snape
shook his head. "Well, fill me in on
what idiocy Potter has done lately."
Sirius
was just ready to explode again when Hermione ran out from behind the
fireplace.
"Professor,
Azar's gone!" she yelled.
"What?"
"I
couldn't sleep, so I went to talk to Azar, but she's not there!"
They
didn't even get a chance to be surprised at this, however, when Ron burst
through the office door.
"Harry!"
Ron was able to gasp, "He…I… So much…"
He
sat down in a chair, catching his breath.
"What?! What about Harry?" Sirius asked frantically.
"I…was
awake," Ron said, still gulping air, "And then…there was so much. Joy, fear, anger… All in one second… It was Harry… So panicked…took me forever…to find this stupid office."
Of
course, this caused Sirius, Remus, and Snape to feel completely lost, so
Dumbledore gave an explanation. Sirius
and Remus almost smiled at hearing about the Revero Detinu spell again.
"But
you felt him, Ron?" Dumbledore asked, get back to the matter at hand.
"Yes,
but faintly. Where is he?"
"Oh
Ron, you don't know!" Hermione exclaimed, "He's disappeared, and then Azar,
too, a little while later."
Ron's
face went pale, but he naturally jumped to the wrong conclusion. "They eloped?"
Hermione
hugged him, laughing and crying at the same time. "Ron, you are too wonderful!"
Dumbledore
explained everything to Ron, Hermione still holding onto him, too stressed to
do anything but cry. Her shoulders soon
stopped shaking, however, and she froze, still holding on to the completely
confused Ron. Slowly, almost fearfully,
she withdrew her hands, standing up as if in a daze. On her face was look of pure horror.
"He's
choking," she whispered, "Draco's choking…"
The
room froze, as if all hardly dared to breathe, just watching her. Her eyes were wide, staring blankly into
space, and her mouth was gaping slightly, the feelings she was experiencing
unable to form themselves into words. Then tears sprung to her eyes, gently coursing down her cheeks.
"Help
him…" she breathed, starting to shake all over, "Someone help him…"
Ron
quickly stood up, taking the girl in his arms and holding her tight, as if
trying to stop her shaking. The four
men watched this in silence, unable to think of what to say, what to do.
Suddenly
Hermione pulled away from Ron, grabbing her left forearm and wincing. "My arm…something just happened to Draco's
arm…"
Slowly,
Snape looked down at his own left arm, the tattoo a livid black. "He's joined Voldemort," he whispered, tears
coming to his eyes, "I failed him. Draco's joined Voldemort…"
~*~*~
A/N: I feel awful now! Everyone was saying how funny the last trial was, and now this one is down right depressing! I'm evil, too, 'cause you won't find out what the deal w/ Draco and Azar is until a couple more chapters! *cries* But don't think this means I'm going to give it away…. ^_^
Thank you all of my wonderful reviewers!!!
Holli: I really don't know… ^-^ Yeah, it was pretty unexpected to me, too, but I felt like writing something light-hearted at the time. Thanks!
Kcarke: I have no idea where my ideas come from… Just somewhere in my twisted little mind, I guess. ^_^ Thanks!
Moon Warrior: ^-^ Thanks! But not that you need help with MotF, 'cause that's awesome so far!!!
Jona: *laughs* Ah, a lovely picture. ^_^ Thanks!
princess of mordor: Thanks!
HermioneGMalfoy: Yeah, odd idea. Oh well. Thanks!
Julia: Thanks!
The Jolly dollar: *cheers* Another person I made stay up late, and thus go crazy! ^_^ Thanks!
Sandra Solaria Dees: Thanks!
Roselyn Riddle: Now THAT would be interesting, 'cause I don't even know if Harry's good at sewing. ^_^ Thanks!
Katrina Skyfrost: ^_^ Thanks for the idea (and don't think I won't use it, 'cause the third task is…er, not here) Thanks!
Raven of Death: *can't stop grinning* No, you have definitely not had your frapachino yet. But I definitely like some of those ideas… ^-^ Yeah, I live in the U.S., too. That's why I feel kinda guilty about this chapter… And the next one shouldn't be too much happier. Yet, in the face of adversity, good shall conquer all!
Allison: I coulda kicked you when you suggested the illusion thing, 'cause I'd already had that planned! You're not supposed to be able to delve into my mind, Allison! I ought to make Gryff. lose the House Cup just to tick you off. ^_^ Thanks!
Jeanne: Yup, got it. Thanks, Jess!
herm: Thanks!
Super saya-Jin Gotan: Thanks!
Swim Angel: Well, Ron's not gonna die from that, but it doesn't mean he's not going to die. *mwa-ha-ha* Thanks!
Sweets: lol ^_^ Thanks!
VERY DEVOTED FAN: Thanks!
1: Thanks!
Lonely Dove: ^_^ Thanks!
Thank you all muy mucho! And you might just see some of the ideas you gave me resurface…^_^
Well, I just came back from camping and am in a pep-eppy mood, so I have a question. Have any of you been able to imagine a high-pitched evil laugh? Seriously. When I first tried to imagine Voldemort's high-pitched laugh, I couldn't do it without thinking it too cartoonish. But then, last year… My theater teacher went nuts one day and did an evil high-pitched laugh. I almost gasped, "It's You-Know-Who!!!" Well, that was just a whole lotta nothing.
Be excellent to each other!!!
-Ady
