::Stares at Lycoris incredulously, "How many flags you got girl?!" Turns back to her readers::
Wow! This chapter took me forever! But at least it's long!!
I'm glad y'all'ses like my story so far, I just want to remind you that there will be NO SLASH. Although, I do seem to be treading a fine line of it...
Anyway...I've given my new character a name and now I'm challenging you, my readers, to tell me what it means. It's in a language besides English and that's all the clues I'm giving you. You can give me an answer by e-mailing me at AngelZash@yahoo.com or by reviewing. Everyone who gets it right will get a story written by me starring them and their favorite Harry Potter character! Only one guess per person (any after the first will not count towards the prize) and the contest is over after the next chapter has been posted. Also, I'll have new challenge for the next chapter.
::Quickly walks over to Lycoris and stuffs her into her bag of flags. Zips the bag and walks off innocently into the sunset::
ENJOY!
It was dark here. Dark, hot and dirty were the only words that could truly be used to describe the cell that Harry now rested in. He'd spent the better part of ten minutes trying vainly to determine what area housed the least amount of grime and filth when the Death Eaters had finally deposited him here after their meeting.
Harry shifted with a groan, forgetting about the slimy surface of the stone beneath him and slipping to land with a hard THUD. Stars danced before Harry's eyes as he lay where he had landed. He didn't even have the energy to shift anymore, though the hard stone floor dug into his shoulder, hip and arm. He closed his eyes and tried not to concentrate on the pain.
"You know," said a soft voice as gentle hands lifted Harry back up into a sitting position, "dreaming is not going to make you feel any better."
Harry opened his eyes and stared up at the man that now cradled him in his arms. The man, and it was definitely a man that held Harry, was cloaked in shadow. His face was indistinguishable in the almost non-existent light of the dungeons and his body was clothed in the heavy, black robes of the Wizarding world. Harry knew that this man must be a Death Eater because he'd been visited by him before and the others did as he told them, but his touch was gentle and his voice soothing. He was, even now, carefully tending to Harry's wounds and running a wet cloth over him to clean his wounds as though he were a patron saint of healing, rather than a cold, ruthless killer.
"My," the man exclaimed, sounding slightly amused. "But I do believe that they went a little overboard, wouldn't you say, Little Harry?"
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but his throat was too dry and sore to allow any sound past it. Instead Harry nodded, hoping that this man might have some mercy on him at last.
The man chuckled and continued tend to Harry's wounds. Suddenly he let out a laugh and Harry's eyes, which had only been half open until now, flew open wide. The man pulled out Harry's wand from where he had managed to keep it hidden in his oversized clothes and wagged it at Harry's nose with a grin that gleamed in the dim light.
"So, you thought to try an escape, did you, my little one," the man asked rhetorically with a chuckle.
Harry closed his eyes, tears beginning to drip slowly from them carrying the last of his hope.
"Don't worry, Little Harry," the man said, pocketing the wand and laying Harry down on a blanket that he must've spread before alerting Harry to his presence. "You've still a role to play. Despair is only for those with nothing left to look forward to. If you believe nothing else in what is left of your life, believe that."
He wanted to glare at the man whose footsteps he could hear making their way from the dungeon, but Harry hadn't the energy anymore. Harry only had enough energy left to let sweet oblivion overtake him for a short time.
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It was evening again and Snape was staggering through the dimly lit halls of Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey had forbidden him to leave his bed, in a manner not even Dumbledore would argue with, but he was determined that he would be there when Dumbledore told the others of the Potter boy's fate. Besides, Snape was certain he'd be the one elected to provide the rescue and wanted to at least be in the room to hear to his sentence.
Snape stopped to rest on the wall across from the forbidding gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He knew it was only his imagination that the gargoyle glared at him sympathetically, but he glared back at it nevertheless. The gargoyles' stare never wavered, but Snape thought its look had turned rather amused, something like Dumbledore's usually did whenever Snape tried to intimidate HIM. Snape looked away finally with a sigh, feeling inexorably weary.
"Professor Snape," called a familiar voice. Snape looked back up and down the corridor to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hurrying towards him. "Did you find him? Has there been any word what happened to Harry yet?"
Snape nodded his head and immediately regretted his reply as Mrs Weasley launched herself at him, grabbing his hands and staring up at him with an expression of such hope that Snape almost wanted to crawl back to Madame Pomfrey. ...ALMOST.
"How is he," Mrs Weasley asked quickly. "Is he okay? Where is he? Is he here? Where did you find him?"
Snape stared stoically at Mrs Weasley's bright eyes, unsure of how to answer. He looked up into Mr Weasley's eyes and Mr Weasley, seeming to somehow understand his reluctance to speak, nodded before reaching to pull his wife away from the flustered Professor.
"Dear," he said, tugging hard on the smaller woman to break her grip, "perhaps we would be better to wait for Dumbledore?"
"Arthur," she said, granting him a look he couldn't help but grimace at, "aren't you worried about poor Harry? I just want to know if he's alright."
"You will find out soon enough, Mrs Weasley," a tired voice said from behind Snape.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked up from their argument while Snape spun quickly around. Too quickly, as his head suddenly felt disconnected from his body and his sight blurred so badly that he saw little more than a myriad of dark colors. Snape fell forward into a pair of strong arms and clung to them. By the smell and feel of the beard he now leaned against, he knew it could only be Albus Dumbledore who held him.
"Are you alright, Severus," Dumbledore asked as Snape struggled to raise his eyes to Dumbledore's own concerned blue orbs.
"Fine, Albus," Snape said irritably. He straightened and smoothed out his robes and hair as Mr and Mrs Weasley watched amazed.
"Harry's..." Mrs Weasley said slowly, as though terrified that if she should say it, it would indeed be true, "Harry's not...not...alright...is he?"
Dumbledore looked sadly at the pale woman who had all but adopted The-Boy-Who-Lived and shook his head, "I'm afraid Harry is in a great deal of danger, Mrs Weasley."
Mr Weasley reached out for his wife and she leaned back into him with a soft moan, "Harry..."
"What can we do for him," Mr Weasley asked softly.
"We will be discussing that tonight," Dumbledore told him before turning to Snape. "That is, if you are well enough to climb to my office, Severus?"
Snape nodded, thin lipped and rigid. A small smile quirked at Dumbledore's lips as he eyed his Potions Master.
"May I assume that Poppy does not know you're here, Severus?"
Dumbledore chuckled as Snape glared darkly at him. He turned to the gargoyle, which leapt aside for him and climbed up the stairs, Mr and Mrs Weasley following on his heels. Snape followed a bit more slowly as his body ached under the strain of moving.
They entered Dumbledore's office to find it already occupied by Professor McGonagall, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, who immediately sprang at Dumbledore, a frantic expression on his face.
"Harry! What-"
"Please be seated, Sirius," Dumbledore told the wild-eyed wizard.
Sirius sat as Dumbledore walked over the chair behind his desk. Mr and Mrs Weasley found their seats on a sofa and Mrs Weasley motioned an exhausted Snape to sit beside her when he had finally appeared.
"What is he doing here," Sirius asked, succeeding at keeping most of the snarl from his voice.
"Sirius," Dumbledore replied softly as Snape glared viciously at the haggard man, "Harry has been kidnapped." Lupin gasped, jerking sharply while Sirius seemingly turned to stone. "Severus has discovered where he has been taken."
"Where is he," both Sirius and Mrs Weasley asked in voices dripping with fear and hope.
"Voldemort has him," Snape said softly, purposely fixing a glare on Sirius.
"How..." Sirius breathed while Dumbledore and Snape allowed the rest of the room to absorb the information they'd just received.
"His family," Mrs Weasley told him, tears welling up in her eyes. "Two men came, saying they were from the ministry and they just let them have him. They didn't even TRY to protect him!"
Mr Weasley hugged his wife to him as she broke out into tears. The others could tell that this was not the first the time she had broken down like this.
"Is he alright, Severus," Lupin asked quietly as he attempted to coax Sirius in to opening his fists. Blood was currently dripping from them as he squeezed them so tightly his short nails bit into skin. Lupin found himself momentarily afraid that Sirius might break his hand if he did not stop soon.
"He'd been beaten," Snape said emotionlessly, "but he was alive."
A loud BANG sounded throughout the small room as Sirius stood suddenly and paced over to stand in front of Snape, "Where is he?"
"No where you can get to him, Black," Snape spat back at the angry man. He remained seated where he was, but his black eyes glittered menacingly at his old enemy.
"WHERE-" Sirius started to roar, but was interrupted by Dumbledore soft, though somehow louder, voice.
"Sirius," Dumbledore said somberly, "Please be seated. We are going to find a way to help Harry, but your storming the Death Eater camp won't do anything for him."
Sirius stood shivering with his rage, torn between listening to Dumbledore and rushing off to save his godson. Mrs Weasley finally took pity on the poor man and wiped her tears away with one hand while taking his arm with the other. Sirius jumped, looking over at her with wide eyes. Mrs Weasley stood and gently began trying to nudge Sirius back over to his seat.
"Sit down, Sirius dear," she told him. "You won't do Harry any good if you're sharing his prison."
Sirius stood staring at the small, plump woman for a moment. He didn't seem capable of moving and, for a moment, Lupin thought he might just shake the woman off. Sirius didn't, however. Instead he turned and moved slowly, as though in a great deal of pain, back to his chair, sitting in it as Mrs Weasley straightened it for him. Mrs Weasley ruffed his hair before returning to her own seat, a secret smile that only mothers can ever wear upon her lips. Sirius watched her retreat with the look that all chastised sons have for their mothers, one of still anger and fear of any on-coming wrathful punishment.
Dumbledore chuckled, "Ahh...the touch of a mother... It can still the hearts of even the wildest creatures."
Lupin dumbstruck stared at the now sullen and slightly embarrassed Sirius while Mr Weasley nodded sagely, having experienced Dumbledore's words to be true many times over. The rest of the room, however, stared at him as though they had finally found their proof that he had gone senile.
"Severus, tell us," Dumbledore said after a moment of silence. "What do they plan to do with Harry?"
Snape scowled as Sirius sat up, once again riveted to the conversation. Snape locked his gaze on Dumbledore's and sat up a little straighter. He did not want to see anyone else's faces when he said what he was about to say. For some reason it bothered him to have to repeat Harry's intended fate in front of Mrs Weasley and McGonagall.
"They plan," he said slowly, "to sacrifice him in the Mijobor Ritual."
McGonagall gasped, her face going completely white. Lupin's did the same, though a tinge of green was seen to appear at the edges of his jaw.
"What is the Mijobor Ritual," Sirius asked, noting their reactions and terrified of the answer. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he knew he needed to.
"The Mijobor Ritual," Dumbledore explained slowly, "is a very complicated spell that enables a person to inherit another's power. It binds two wizards to each other so that they share their magic and the first to die leaves his or her power to the other."
Silence reigned once more as the group gathered in Dumbledore's office processed what they had just been told. Fawkes cooed on his perch, seeming to not know who to comfort, while McGongall looked as though she wanted nothing more than to leave the room and it's bad tidings behind her.
"He plans to..." Sirius said finally, sounding shell-shocked, "...steal Harry's magic..."
Dumbledore nodded sadly and Fawkes let out another long, sorrowful coo.
"How..." Mr Weasley breathed, his face snow white. "How can they steal someone's magic?"
"It is a long and very complex process," Dumbledore began. "It does not have to involve a lot of pain, but it does require that the participants spend a great deal of time in each other's presence. In this way they will share each other's aura. And with the aura, their power."
Dumbledore finally sat in his chair and leaned heavily on his forward, "A potion will have to be prepared soon. It will be part of the first step of the official ritual. The first ceremony will be something like a wedding; this is part of the reason why the ritual was once known as the Lover's Pact. It was deemed only fit for married couples to perform. Each participant will agree to share the other's power until their death, then they will drink the potion. Once the potion is drunk, neither participant will be found far from the other until a month has passed. Once a month has gone by, both participants shall return to drink a second goblet of the potion, this time with a drop of each participant's blood mixed in. When the potion has been drunk the second time, both will share the other's power, doubling their individual powers."
Silence once more reigned as Dumbledore finished his explanation. For a brief moment, Dumbledore allowed himself the luxury of wondering if perhaps Voldemort had somehow managed to sneak in and turn them all to stone. So it was with a start that he realized Sirius was speaking.
"...who will make the potion," Sirius asked. "Can we stop it from being made?"
"I will make the potion," Snape said stonily, his face tight, but otherwise showing no sign of emotion.
"Why you-" Sirius snarled at him, anger immediately flaring in his eyes.
"What do you expect me to do, Black," Snape snarled, watching Sirius disgustedly. "Would you prefer I poisoned them both? Or perhaps you want me to lose us any chance of rescuing the boy by giving them the wrong potion?"
"But You-Know-Who's power will be doubled," Mrs Weasley exclaimed in fear.
"It can not be helped," Professor McGongall said resignedly. "If we do not play along for the moment, Harry will be dead and You-Know-Who's power will then become tripled."
"But-" Sirius protested, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.
"Sirius," Dumbledore told him gently. "Harry's power will also be doubled. We will be in no worse position for taking this action. If nothing else, this Ritual will keep Harry alive for at least another month."
Sirius set his jaw and looked angrily down at his lap. Mrs Weasley watched him carefully before bringing her eyes back up to Dumbledore and leaning against her husband, who wrapped an arm around her.
"How will we get him back, Dumbledore," she asked the old wizard, resignation clear in her eyes and voice.
"First we have to discover where he will be kept," Dumbledore replied. "I will need your help, Sirius."
Sirius looked up in surprise at his old mentor. He stared for a moment, unsure if he'd truly heard what he thought he had, before curtly nodding his assent.
"You will discover where Harry is being hidden by accompanying Severus to his Death Eater meetings," Sirius scowled over at an equally upset Snape as Dumbledore continued. "While he is with the others, you may wander off to sniff around for Harry. Once you find him, however," Dumbledore stared sternly at the hotheaded younger wizard, "do not try to rescue him. Simply return with Severus. We will go with a group to rescue him togther."
Sirius's scowl grew deeper, but he did not object.
"Dumbledore," McGonagall said anxiously, "shouldn't I be the more...logical choice?"
"No, Minerva," Dumbledore told her shaking his head. "You are, by far, too recognizable. I am certain Sirius can stand to get along with Severus long enough to rescue his godson. I will ask you, however, to change Sirius' fur another color to better hide his identity from Wormtail. Perhaps a Chocolate Lab would be nice."
Sirius looked scandalized at Dumbledore while Lupin and Snape chuckled. Sirius glared over at them as well.
"Some friend you are," he hissed at Lupin.
"I'm sorry, Sirius," Lupin told him, struggling to hold in his mirth.
"At least you will no longer have to worry about the Dementors, Black," Snape told him with a greasy smile.
"Shut up," Sirius snapped, scowling deeply.
"Please begin preparing the potion, Severus," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Minerva, Remus, if you would prepare Sirius for his job?"
Lupin and McGonagall nodded before Lupin began dragging a still scowling Sirius from the room, McGonagall following close behind.
"What about us, Dumbledore," Mrs Weasley asked.
"I want you to spread the word to the others," Dumbledore told the Weasley's. "Tell them to be ready for a fight. We don't know when it will be coming, but it will be soon. We must also keep this quiet from the rest of the Wizarding World, but if you can find out anything more, or if anyone else can, I want you to report it directly to me immediately."
Mrs Weasley nodded and she stood and left, her husband's arm wrapped around her the entire time.
"I wonder if he'll be alright," Dumbledore said softly as Fawkes flew over and landed on his shoulder, cooing a high phoenix song.
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It was night out. Somehow Harry knew this to be true, though he wasn't sure how. He curled up on the dirty, grimy floor and tried not to feel the pain and heat. He wondered absently how long he had been here, but couldn't remember. He'd lost all sense of time since he'd been here, but he found he no longer truly cared. He just wanted to know how much longer he had to suffer.
His cell door opened and the man who had been visiting him since he was first kidnapped walked in. The man walked over to him and knelt.
"Feel any better, Harry," he asked in his friendly manner.
Harry answered him with a cold glare that by all rights should have created steam in the steamy room.
"Now, now," the man told him. "I'm here to help. You should know that by now, my little Harry."
Harry closed his eyes and sighed quietly in exasperation, "If you want to help me, let me go."
The man laughed, before pulling Harry gently, if sternly, to his feet, "You'll feel better when you're cleaned up."
Harry snorted, but allowed himself to be pulled out of the cell and upstairs to a round room with a large bed and equally large wardrobe. There were two doors into the room: the one Harry had just come in through and one that seemed to lead to the bathroom. Harry's captor took a moment to lock the first door before pulling Harry into the bathroom.
The bathroom was the second largest Harry had only seen, the prefect's bathroom being the largest. A large tub sat full of bubbly water and surrounded by a counter that ran all along the circular wall, breaking only in one place where the mirror that ran above it dropped down to become full-length. Various personal hygiene tools and potions sat on the counter, giving the place the look of some expensive spa.
"WHAT," Harry squeaked, surprised as the man began forcibly stripping him. "What are you doing!"
"You need a bath, Harry dear," the man told him, before pulling off the last of Harry's clothing.
He took a step back and eyed Harry's skinny figure speculatively, "My...But you are skinny, aren't you? Didn't that family of yours feed you?"
"More than you have," Harry growled, attempting to hide himself and not blush. He was not succeeding too well and the man grinned at his embarrassment.
"Well, we can fix that after your bath," he answered. With that the man stepped forward, picked up Harry and plopped him gently in the bath tub.
The man stripped off his robes before kneeling beside the tub in only his boxers. He picked up a sponge and began to gently clean Harry's wounds. Harry stared at him dumbfounded; he'd never before been bathed in his life. At least not that he could remember.
"Well," the man said, "This will go much faster if you wash your hair while I clean you."
Harry set to work on his hair, jumping a little every now and again as the man scrubbed some more sensitive areas of his abused body. Soon almost all of Harry had been cleaned and the man straightened back up.
"You finish while I go get your clothes," he said leaving the room.
Harry watched him go and slid down to finish the scrubbing and luxuriate in the bath water, feeling ready to fall asleep right there. Unfortunately, the man returned quickly and pulled Harry from the bath water and into a large fluffy towel that smelled somewhat overpoweringly of green tea. He patted Harry down as Harry tried to remain erect under the influence of the powerful smell.
Finally, the man brushed Harry's down quickly and then pulled the towel from him. He replaced it with an eggshell white robe which shimmered and glided over Harry's skin as it slid over and down his body to his feet.
Now the man led him to the bed and tucked him gently into it. Harry watched him with curious eyes even after the man had taken his glasses from him.
"Who are you," Harry asked, sleep already beginning to claim him.
The man grinned a fuzzy grin, "Call me Himitsu."
It was the last thing Harry heard before sleep claimed him once more.
Next Chapter: Dark Wedding