A/N: Okay, the first trial… a bit on the humorous side

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