A/N: I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!!!! I didn't really mean to take so long posting!!! I
know I said it would be a longer wait, but I didn't think It would be that long. I claim sanctuary,
though! I have an excuse! Two words: Research Paper. Five more words: Two ten minute oral
reports. Not to mention reading a play and doing a theme analysis over it, and reading a novel. I
hate English class!
I e-mailed everyone who asked me. I will e-mail anyone who wants me to when I get new chapters
out, but if you already asked me, I will not do it unless you ask again. No, I am not fishing for
reviews! I swear! But if you no longer wish me to e-mail you and I keep doing it, it wastes a lot of
time. If you know you want an e-mail for every chapter from now on, then tell me in a review, and
you don't have to worry about it.
Someone asked me if Snape was going to be in the story. (I think it was Abby, but I'm not sure.
Sorry if I'm wrong. I'm too lazy to look it up at the moment). I wasn't planning on it,
but the more I think about it, the more I like it! I think I will have to find a place for our favorite
Potions Master in here. He won't be in this chapter, though. Oh, great . . . here come the plot
bunnies . . .
Disclaimer: I own one shirt, some socks and some pants,
I own two dogs, a hermit crab and three plants.
And though I am a shameless plotter,
I must say I do not own Harry Potter!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
NORMAL
Chapter Five
Twenty seconds . . . just twenty seconds, and Harry's house would appear, and he would
have his godson. . . Just fifteen seconds and the sweet little boy that she used to babysit would be
out of danger . . . Ten seconds. Just ten seconds and his former student and best friend's son
would be free of whatever hell he might be going through.
No matter how they comforted themselves, they just couldn't get it out of their heads that
even after they rescued Harry, they would have a long road ahead of them. They had to find
whoever cursed the Dursleys, and somehow make the person who did it take it off of them, and
only then could they heal whatever wounds Harry might have. Easier said than done. None of
them had voiced their concerns, but they knew that they were all thinking the same thing: How
were they going to find who placed the curse? They had no leads, except that it was a Death Eater.
That was about as helpful as trying to find a rare flower and the only thing that you knew about it
was that it grew from the ground.
Five seconds. To Arabella there was no noticeable change to the area, but Remus and Sirius
could see a faint shimmer, almost like a glittering fog, beginning to manifest on the grassy lot. The
fog become clearer, and began to take the shape of a ghostly-looking house. One second . . . and
the once vacant area, now had a solid house sitting on it.
Sirius and Remus looked at the house for a moment. Somehow, they had expected it to
look different. It should reflect on the outside what they knew was going on in the inside. It should
be run down and dilapidated, perhaps with dead flowers or maybe a starved, ferocious dog
chained to the porch. But in no way had they expected this. Number four Privet Drive looked
completely. . .well . . . normal.
They were brought out of their thoughts by Arabella. "Well, are you going to just stand
there all night, or are you going to go in and get that boy? You don't have tome to lollygag!"
"Right, we're going. Remus, you have your wand ready?" Sirius hadn't seen his wand
since he was put into Azkaban. Remus held it up. "Good. Let's go."
They quickly jogged to the door, staying in the grass so they wouldn't make any noise. Sirius
tried the door, and finding it was locked, nodded to Remus. Remus waited for Sirius to step out of
the way, raised his wand, and whispered "Alohomora." They heard the lock click open. Sirius
once again twisted the knob, and they stepped inside.
The first thing they noticed was the smell. There was a faint, but still horrible smell floating
around of burned paper. Sirius turned to Remus and mouthed "Upstairs." They practically tiptoed
up the wooden stairs, careful to test each step with a tiny bit of weight to be sure there were no
creaks before fully stepping on it.
They reached the top of the landing and saw five doors along the hallway. One had a
beautifully carved wooden hanging on it reading "Dudley's Room". Defiantly not it. They each
went to separate doors and put their ears up to them. Sirius heard deep snoring from behind one,
and mouthed to Remus "Not this one, either." Remus nodded. It had to be one of the three left.
He opened the door, and saw a bathroom. He went to the next and quietly opened it. It was a plain
room, with a double bed and a nice comforter. It didn't look like anyone lived in it. Remus
assumed it was a guest room. Only one door left.
Sirius stood in front of the door. Remus saw his hand waver a bit as he turned the knob.
He pushed the door open softly, but something was blocking it. He pushed harder, and whatever
was there was pushed away. The room was pitch black. Remus lifted his wand and whispered
"Lumos."
This *couldn't* be Harry's room. No, Harry was not this messy. There were broken toys
everywhere. The shadows cast by the light of the wand made everything appear creepy. A large
decapitated doll head grinned mockingly at them. A stuffed dinosaur that was missing two legs
bared it's fangs.
Sirius whispered to Remus "I don't think this is it. Look, there isn't even a bed." But Remus had
found something that proved differently.
"Look, Sirius." He said, stepping across the room. "It has to be. This is his trunk . . .and
this has to be Hedwig's cage . . .and those are Hogwarts robes." He pointed to Harry's makeshift
bed. "Just, Harry's not here. Where do you think he is, Sirius?" But Sirius didn't answer. He was
staring at something in the corner of the room. "Sirius? What . . ." He didn't have to finish. Sirius
picked up what looked like a stick and held it out to him. He put the light from his wand close to it
and felt his stomach drop to his knees. The stick had blood on it. It was dried blood, but it was still
obviously blood.
Sirius took the stick back and threw it across the room, where it crashed to the floor."Remus,
you pack up Harry's things. I'm going downstairs." Remus wanted to look for Harry, also, but he
knew that look Sirius was giving him. You don't spend seven years being someone's best friend
and not know how they look when they are angry. Sirius hurriedly left the room and Remus could
hear him stomping down the stairs, louder than before, not caring if he woke anyone up.
Remus had half a mind to tell him to be quiet, but somehow he couldn't. Maybe it was the
fact that he was almost wishing the Dursleys would wake up, so he could teach them to mess with
his best friends son. He didn't care if they were under a curse, they still had to have hated Harry
for the curse to have made them hurt him.
Remus quickly decided that there was no way, especially with Sirius in such a mood, that they
were going to get out without waking the Dursleys, and no matter how much he would like to
curse them for himself, he really didn't think that would be the best idea at the moment. He went
to the two rooms and cast a sleeping spell on them, surprised that they were still asleep after all the
racket Sirius had caused. The spell would last for about half an hour, and make them sleep through
anything.
Remus went back to Harry's room. As he passed the stairway, he heard a pounding, as if
someone was shaking a closed door. He practically ran into the room, and scooped up Harry's
robes, throwing them into the trunk.
* * *
Sirius reached the bottom of the stairs, and looked around, not sure what to do or where to
look. What he really wanted to do was hit something. Half of him told him to go upstairs and hex
the pants off the Dursleys, and the other half of him wanted him to find his godson. The latter won
by a landslide. He turned to go to the kitchen, when he heard a faint whimper. He stopped
breathing, fearing he wouldn't be able to hear it again.
There it was again, followed by a cough. A very small cough, as if someone was trying to hold
it in, and it was coming from right next to him. He looked around, and all that was there was a
small cupboard door. He looked to the other side, and his breath caught in his throat. The only
visible light was moonlight, but there, once again was that unmistakable red substance. He fumbled
the walls for a light switch, and finding one, flicked it on with rapidly numbing fingers.
It was smeared on the walls, and a small pool of it was on the floor. There was a small, red
hand print on the otherwise spotless molding near the floor. He touched it with a shaking hand. It
was still wet.
He heard the whimper again, sounding as if it was in pain. Having no doubts about who it was,
he launched himself at the cupboard door. It took him several seconds of pulling at the handle,
pounding and shaking it, before he saw the lock. He unlocked the door, and threw it open.
* * *
He had woken up to the sound of the front door opening. He heard two pairs of feet
quietly shuffling to the stairs. He knew that these feet couldn't possibly belong to the Dursleys.
They would never bother to be quiet if he was the only one they had to worry about waking. He
had no idea who these people could be. They could be neighbors, but why would they be going
upstairs? If they were friends of Dudley's, they would most likely be doing the exact opposite and
making as much noise as they possibly could.
He heard them ascending the stairs, almost as if they were moving in slow motion.
Every time a creak was heard, it immediately stopped, and he heard shuffling to find a new, silent
spot. He was becoming more positive by the second that someone was breaking in.
He listened, trying not to breathe and make himself begin coughing again, and he heard three
doors opening quietly, one after the other. He could hear faint whispers, but he couldn't make out
the words. Then there was quiet, and out of nowhere a crash, followed by heavy thuds on the
stairs.
They were short, angry sounding thumps on every step. This had to be Vernon.
Maybe he thought that Harry had caused the crash and woke him up again. All he could think was
that he had to hide. The only problem was that there was nowhere to go in the small cupboard.
He rolled over and faced the wall, and whimpered at the jarring of his ribs.. He felt a
strong tickle in his throat, but held it in all he could. A small cough escaped him, though, and he
cringed at a metallic taste in the back of his throat. He carefully bent his knees up to his chest. He
could hardly breathe, but that was much better than Vernon thinking he had caused more
problems. He bit his bottom lip and moaned as he used his left hand to lift the burned and broken
right from under him.
Suddenly, the door was shaking. Vernon was juggling the handle, as if he forgot he had
locked it. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that his uncle would leave him alone. He heard
the lock click, and through his closed eyelids, he could see a bright light pouring over his face.
He put one hand over his eyes; The light had caused a splitting headache. The urge to cough
was growing stronger, and feeling like there was something alive in his lungs, fighting to be
released, he decided that if Vernon was going to beat him anyway, he might as well cough. The
moment after he started, though, he felt Vernon's hand lay softly on his shoulder. That couldn't be
right. The hand felt almost . . .comforting? He felt blood trickle down his chin and coughed even
harder. A gentle finger wiped it away. He paused to take a few deep breaths, and Vernon lifted
him from the cupboard, and laid him down gently on the floor in the hallway.
Suddenly, something was caught in his throat. He couldn't breathe. He began coughing again,
trying to clear his throat, but it only got worse. He wheezed and gasped, and heard a faint, far
away voice say "Harry? Harry!?" His name was repeated over and over. Each time it sounded
more desperate. He coughed again, weakly. Breathing in, he felt only a minuscule amount of air
enter, not even filling his lungs. He opened his eyes slightly, but quickly snapped them shut.
Everything was blurry, making him feel queasy.
Then there was someone else there. He felt the vibrations of the floor underneath him as the
person knelt by his side. Vernon was saying something to this other person.
"Moony . . . can't breathe . . . what do we do?" Moony? Who was Moony? Certainly not Aunt
Petunia. He felt large hands press on his chest, jostling his broken rib. He couldn't hold it in. He let
out a pain filled scream as the fire consumed him once again. The scream was cut short, however.
He could no longer could breathe at all. There was a liquid feeling in his throat and his chest, as if
he had inhaled water.
The first voice whispered to the other. "Have to get him out of here . . . wake them . . . can't
fight now. . . have to go!" Harry could barely hear the voices; there was a ringing in his ears.
"It's ok . . .cast. . .sleeping spell . . .won't hear." Harry felt himself going limp. He
needed air, but try as he might, it refused to enter his lungs. Someone shook his shoulders, and
yelled his name again. The shaking got worse, and his head flopped back and forth, but he had no
longer had any power over his muscles.
The shaking stopped abruptly. He heard a third, feminine voice from far above him. "Don't . .
.You have to . . . on his side . . ." There were hands on his shoulders, himself being turned
on his side, and the voice of "Moony" came through the thick fog in his brain.
"Now what?"
Harry didn't hear the reply, but felt a gentle tapping on his back. The urge to cough grew
again, and he heard a voice telling him to breathe. *Begging* him to breathe. The tapping became
stronger, and he started coughing again. But this time, the blockage in his throat unsettled itself,
and he felt warm liquid fill up his mouth and spill down his chin, and a voice above him say
"Choking. . .blood . . . have to keep him sideways . . .can't get it out." When he finally stopped
coughing, he took several deep, shaky breaths. His lungs tickled, but not nearly as badly as they
had before. He felt himself get a little dizzy, and he grabbed the wrist of whoever had begun
wiping up his chin with a soft cloth.
The voices were becoming clearer, and he could tell that whoever the first man was, it was
*not* Vernon. "He felt his hair being stroked, and pushed off his sweaty forehead. "It's going to
be all right. You're going to be ok, I promise."
Harry let go of the wrist and lazily opened his heavy eyelids. His vision was a little more
focused. He looked up to the man he had thought was Vernon. The stranger had tears running
down his cheeks from his wide, red eyes. and his gaunt face very pale. His black hair fell around
his face like a tangled wig.
Harry's turned his attention to the other two who were surrounding him. One was an old
woman, with kind but frightened eyes, who smiled when she saw him looking at her. The other
was a man who had brown hair, with wisps of grey. His face looked old and tired, but he too,
looked kind. Harry looked back to the man with black hair. He stared for a few moments until, and
the man asked him if he was ready to get out of there. Harry's brow furrowed, and he looked
around the group once again, and asked "Who are you?"
* * *
Sirius was extremely relieved when Harry began breathing again. He was glad that Moony had
cast a sleeping charm on the Dursleys, because otherwise they surely would have awakened and
caused them even more problems. He was so shocked when Harry asked them who they were that
he had forgotten to breathe himself.
When Harry had stopped breathing, he had been sure that he would lose his godson. He
didn't know what else to besides shake him and try to make him snap out of it. Arabella had
heard Harry's screams, and made the decision to come in, even if it got her in trouble. She knew
basic first aid, and luckily knew what to do.
Harry coughed up mouthfuls of blood. Remus pulled out one of Harry's old robes and
handed it to Sirius, who then wiped the blood off his godson's chin. Harry looked around at them.
They were all expecting a warm greeting, or at least a smile, but never what they had gotten.
"Who are you?" How could Harry not know who they were? What was going on?
He looked at his companions, not knowing what to do. Arabella whispered to him that
they had to leave. They could work out the problems at Hogwarts, they had to go before Harry
had any more problems. Sirius put his arms beneath Harry's thin frame, and lifted him up like a
small child.
At the sudden movement that he obviously wasn't expecting, Harry screamed again. The
scream grated against Sirius, and tore at his heart. It might as well have come from himself. He
looked at Remus, who nodded, understanding what Sirius wanted. He lifted his wand, pointed it at
Harry, who had buried his head against Sirius's chest, and was now whimpering in pain in his
arms and said "Stupefy!"
Sirius felt Harry go limp; his head lolled back and his arms and legs hung pointlessly. They left
the house, Arabella turning off the light, and Remus floating Harry's trunk behind him.
* * *
A/N: Hee Hee. I don't think this is really a cliffhanger, but I just wanted to say that because
*clears throat and says in a singsong voice* I know what's going to happen and you don't
*Continues singing like an annoying kid until people throw stuff at her* Thanks for reading, thanks
for reviewing (if you do).
I know the HarryTorture is a little excessive . . . but that's the way I like it! (SHAMELESS PLUG
ALERT! SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT!) I have a favor to ask of you lovely reviewers. If you
know of a good HarryTorture story, or if you have one, tell me! I am having trouble finding new
ones, and I want to see if I've read them all, or if I am just looking in the wrong places.
Toodles,
~Avidia~
know I said it would be a longer wait, but I didn't think It would be that long. I claim sanctuary,
though! I have an excuse! Two words: Research Paper. Five more words: Two ten minute oral
reports. Not to mention reading a play and doing a theme analysis over it, and reading a novel. I
hate English class!
I e-mailed everyone who asked me. I will e-mail anyone who wants me to when I get new chapters
out, but if you already asked me, I will not do it unless you ask again. No, I am not fishing for
reviews! I swear! But if you no longer wish me to e-mail you and I keep doing it, it wastes a lot of
time. If you know you want an e-mail for every chapter from now on, then tell me in a review, and
you don't have to worry about it.
Someone asked me if Snape was going to be in the story. (I think it was Abby, but I'm not sure.
Sorry if I'm wrong. I'm too lazy to look it up at the moment). I wasn't planning on it,
but the more I think about it, the more I like it! I think I will have to find a place for our favorite
Potions Master in here. He won't be in this chapter, though. Oh, great . . . here come the plot
bunnies . . .
Disclaimer: I own one shirt, some socks and some pants,
I own two dogs, a hermit crab and three plants.
And though I am a shameless plotter,
I must say I do not own Harry Potter!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
NORMAL
Chapter Five
Twenty seconds . . . just twenty seconds, and Harry's house would appear, and he would
have his godson. . . Just fifteen seconds and the sweet little boy that she used to babysit would be
out of danger . . . Ten seconds. Just ten seconds and his former student and best friend's son
would be free of whatever hell he might be going through.
No matter how they comforted themselves, they just couldn't get it out of their heads that
even after they rescued Harry, they would have a long road ahead of them. They had to find
whoever cursed the Dursleys, and somehow make the person who did it take it off of them, and
only then could they heal whatever wounds Harry might have. Easier said than done. None of
them had voiced their concerns, but they knew that they were all thinking the same thing: How
were they going to find who placed the curse? They had no leads, except that it was a Death Eater.
That was about as helpful as trying to find a rare flower and the only thing that you knew about it
was that it grew from the ground.
Five seconds. To Arabella there was no noticeable change to the area, but Remus and Sirius
could see a faint shimmer, almost like a glittering fog, beginning to manifest on the grassy lot. The
fog become clearer, and began to take the shape of a ghostly-looking house. One second . . . and
the once vacant area, now had a solid house sitting on it.
Sirius and Remus looked at the house for a moment. Somehow, they had expected it to
look different. It should reflect on the outside what they knew was going on in the inside. It should
be run down and dilapidated, perhaps with dead flowers or maybe a starved, ferocious dog
chained to the porch. But in no way had they expected this. Number four Privet Drive looked
completely. . .well . . . normal.
They were brought out of their thoughts by Arabella. "Well, are you going to just stand
there all night, or are you going to go in and get that boy? You don't have tome to lollygag!"
"Right, we're going. Remus, you have your wand ready?" Sirius hadn't seen his wand
since he was put into Azkaban. Remus held it up. "Good. Let's go."
They quickly jogged to the door, staying in the grass so they wouldn't make any noise. Sirius
tried the door, and finding it was locked, nodded to Remus. Remus waited for Sirius to step out of
the way, raised his wand, and whispered "Alohomora." They heard the lock click open. Sirius
once again twisted the knob, and they stepped inside.
The first thing they noticed was the smell. There was a faint, but still horrible smell floating
around of burned paper. Sirius turned to Remus and mouthed "Upstairs." They practically tiptoed
up the wooden stairs, careful to test each step with a tiny bit of weight to be sure there were no
creaks before fully stepping on it.
They reached the top of the landing and saw five doors along the hallway. One had a
beautifully carved wooden hanging on it reading "Dudley's Room". Defiantly not it. They each
went to separate doors and put their ears up to them. Sirius heard deep snoring from behind one,
and mouthed to Remus "Not this one, either." Remus nodded. It had to be one of the three left.
He opened the door, and saw a bathroom. He went to the next and quietly opened it. It was a plain
room, with a double bed and a nice comforter. It didn't look like anyone lived in it. Remus
assumed it was a guest room. Only one door left.
Sirius stood in front of the door. Remus saw his hand waver a bit as he turned the knob.
He pushed the door open softly, but something was blocking it. He pushed harder, and whatever
was there was pushed away. The room was pitch black. Remus lifted his wand and whispered
"Lumos."
This *couldn't* be Harry's room. No, Harry was not this messy. There were broken toys
everywhere. The shadows cast by the light of the wand made everything appear creepy. A large
decapitated doll head grinned mockingly at them. A stuffed dinosaur that was missing two legs
bared it's fangs.
Sirius whispered to Remus "I don't think this is it. Look, there isn't even a bed." But Remus had
found something that proved differently.
"Look, Sirius." He said, stepping across the room. "It has to be. This is his trunk . . .and
this has to be Hedwig's cage . . .and those are Hogwarts robes." He pointed to Harry's makeshift
bed. "Just, Harry's not here. Where do you think he is, Sirius?" But Sirius didn't answer. He was
staring at something in the corner of the room. "Sirius? What . . ." He didn't have to finish. Sirius
picked up what looked like a stick and held it out to him. He put the light from his wand close to it
and felt his stomach drop to his knees. The stick had blood on it. It was dried blood, but it was still
obviously blood.
Sirius took the stick back and threw it across the room, where it crashed to the floor."Remus,
you pack up Harry's things. I'm going downstairs." Remus wanted to look for Harry, also, but he
knew that look Sirius was giving him. You don't spend seven years being someone's best friend
and not know how they look when they are angry. Sirius hurriedly left the room and Remus could
hear him stomping down the stairs, louder than before, not caring if he woke anyone up.
Remus had half a mind to tell him to be quiet, but somehow he couldn't. Maybe it was the
fact that he was almost wishing the Dursleys would wake up, so he could teach them to mess with
his best friends son. He didn't care if they were under a curse, they still had to have hated Harry
for the curse to have made them hurt him.
Remus quickly decided that there was no way, especially with Sirius in such a mood, that they
were going to get out without waking the Dursleys, and no matter how much he would like to
curse them for himself, he really didn't think that would be the best idea at the moment. He went
to the two rooms and cast a sleeping spell on them, surprised that they were still asleep after all the
racket Sirius had caused. The spell would last for about half an hour, and make them sleep through
anything.
Remus went back to Harry's room. As he passed the stairway, he heard a pounding, as if
someone was shaking a closed door. He practically ran into the room, and scooped up Harry's
robes, throwing them into the trunk.
* * *
Sirius reached the bottom of the stairs, and looked around, not sure what to do or where to
look. What he really wanted to do was hit something. Half of him told him to go upstairs and hex
the pants off the Dursleys, and the other half of him wanted him to find his godson. The latter won
by a landslide. He turned to go to the kitchen, when he heard a faint whimper. He stopped
breathing, fearing he wouldn't be able to hear it again.
There it was again, followed by a cough. A very small cough, as if someone was trying to hold
it in, and it was coming from right next to him. He looked around, and all that was there was a
small cupboard door. He looked to the other side, and his breath caught in his throat. The only
visible light was moonlight, but there, once again was that unmistakable red substance. He fumbled
the walls for a light switch, and finding one, flicked it on with rapidly numbing fingers.
It was smeared on the walls, and a small pool of it was on the floor. There was a small, red
hand print on the otherwise spotless molding near the floor. He touched it with a shaking hand. It
was still wet.
He heard the whimper again, sounding as if it was in pain. Having no doubts about who it was,
he launched himself at the cupboard door. It took him several seconds of pulling at the handle,
pounding and shaking it, before he saw the lock. He unlocked the door, and threw it open.
* * *
He had woken up to the sound of the front door opening. He heard two pairs of feet
quietly shuffling to the stairs. He knew that these feet couldn't possibly belong to the Dursleys.
They would never bother to be quiet if he was the only one they had to worry about waking. He
had no idea who these people could be. They could be neighbors, but why would they be going
upstairs? If they were friends of Dudley's, they would most likely be doing the exact opposite and
making as much noise as they possibly could.
He heard them ascending the stairs, almost as if they were moving in slow motion.
Every time a creak was heard, it immediately stopped, and he heard shuffling to find a new, silent
spot. He was becoming more positive by the second that someone was breaking in.
He listened, trying not to breathe and make himself begin coughing again, and he heard three
doors opening quietly, one after the other. He could hear faint whispers, but he couldn't make out
the words. Then there was quiet, and out of nowhere a crash, followed by heavy thuds on the
stairs.
They were short, angry sounding thumps on every step. This had to be Vernon.
Maybe he thought that Harry had caused the crash and woke him up again. All he could think was
that he had to hide. The only problem was that there was nowhere to go in the small cupboard.
He rolled over and faced the wall, and whimpered at the jarring of his ribs.. He felt a
strong tickle in his throat, but held it in all he could. A small cough escaped him, though, and he
cringed at a metallic taste in the back of his throat. He carefully bent his knees up to his chest. He
could hardly breathe, but that was much better than Vernon thinking he had caused more
problems. He bit his bottom lip and moaned as he used his left hand to lift the burned and broken
right from under him.
Suddenly, the door was shaking. Vernon was juggling the handle, as if he forgot he had
locked it. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that his uncle would leave him alone. He heard
the lock click, and through his closed eyelids, he could see a bright light pouring over his face.
He put one hand over his eyes; The light had caused a splitting headache. The urge to cough
was growing stronger, and feeling like there was something alive in his lungs, fighting to be
released, he decided that if Vernon was going to beat him anyway, he might as well cough. The
moment after he started, though, he felt Vernon's hand lay softly on his shoulder. That couldn't be
right. The hand felt almost . . .comforting? He felt blood trickle down his chin and coughed even
harder. A gentle finger wiped it away. He paused to take a few deep breaths, and Vernon lifted
him from the cupboard, and laid him down gently on the floor in the hallway.
Suddenly, something was caught in his throat. He couldn't breathe. He began coughing again,
trying to clear his throat, but it only got worse. He wheezed and gasped, and heard a faint, far
away voice say "Harry? Harry!?" His name was repeated over and over. Each time it sounded
more desperate. He coughed again, weakly. Breathing in, he felt only a minuscule amount of air
enter, not even filling his lungs. He opened his eyes slightly, but quickly snapped them shut.
Everything was blurry, making him feel queasy.
Then there was someone else there. He felt the vibrations of the floor underneath him as the
person knelt by his side. Vernon was saying something to this other person.
"Moony . . . can't breathe . . . what do we do?" Moony? Who was Moony? Certainly not Aunt
Petunia. He felt large hands press on his chest, jostling his broken rib. He couldn't hold it in. He let
out a pain filled scream as the fire consumed him once again. The scream was cut short, however.
He could no longer could breathe at all. There was a liquid feeling in his throat and his chest, as if
he had inhaled water.
The first voice whispered to the other. "Have to get him out of here . . . wake them . . . can't
fight now. . . have to go!" Harry could barely hear the voices; there was a ringing in his ears.
"It's ok . . .cast. . .sleeping spell . . .won't hear." Harry felt himself going limp. He
needed air, but try as he might, it refused to enter his lungs. Someone shook his shoulders, and
yelled his name again. The shaking got worse, and his head flopped back and forth, but he had no
longer had any power over his muscles.
The shaking stopped abruptly. He heard a third, feminine voice from far above him. "Don't . .
.You have to . . . on his side . . ." There were hands on his shoulders, himself being turned
on his side, and the voice of "Moony" came through the thick fog in his brain.
"Now what?"
Harry didn't hear the reply, but felt a gentle tapping on his back. The urge to cough grew
again, and he heard a voice telling him to breathe. *Begging* him to breathe. The tapping became
stronger, and he started coughing again. But this time, the blockage in his throat unsettled itself,
and he felt warm liquid fill up his mouth and spill down his chin, and a voice above him say
"Choking. . .blood . . . have to keep him sideways . . .can't get it out." When he finally stopped
coughing, he took several deep, shaky breaths. His lungs tickled, but not nearly as badly as they
had before. He felt himself get a little dizzy, and he grabbed the wrist of whoever had begun
wiping up his chin with a soft cloth.
The voices were becoming clearer, and he could tell that whoever the first man was, it was
*not* Vernon. "He felt his hair being stroked, and pushed off his sweaty forehead. "It's going to
be all right. You're going to be ok, I promise."
Harry let go of the wrist and lazily opened his heavy eyelids. His vision was a little more
focused. He looked up to the man he had thought was Vernon. The stranger had tears running
down his cheeks from his wide, red eyes. and his gaunt face very pale. His black hair fell around
his face like a tangled wig.
Harry's turned his attention to the other two who were surrounding him. One was an old
woman, with kind but frightened eyes, who smiled when she saw him looking at her. The other
was a man who had brown hair, with wisps of grey. His face looked old and tired, but he too,
looked kind. Harry looked back to the man with black hair. He stared for a few moments until, and
the man asked him if he was ready to get out of there. Harry's brow furrowed, and he looked
around the group once again, and asked "Who are you?"
* * *
Sirius was extremely relieved when Harry began breathing again. He was glad that Moony had
cast a sleeping charm on the Dursleys, because otherwise they surely would have awakened and
caused them even more problems. He was so shocked when Harry asked them who they were that
he had forgotten to breathe himself.
When Harry had stopped breathing, he had been sure that he would lose his godson. He
didn't know what else to besides shake him and try to make him snap out of it. Arabella had
heard Harry's screams, and made the decision to come in, even if it got her in trouble. She knew
basic first aid, and luckily knew what to do.
Harry coughed up mouthfuls of blood. Remus pulled out one of Harry's old robes and
handed it to Sirius, who then wiped the blood off his godson's chin. Harry looked around at them.
They were all expecting a warm greeting, or at least a smile, but never what they had gotten.
"Who are you?" How could Harry not know who they were? What was going on?
He looked at his companions, not knowing what to do. Arabella whispered to him that
they had to leave. They could work out the problems at Hogwarts, they had to go before Harry
had any more problems. Sirius put his arms beneath Harry's thin frame, and lifted him up like a
small child.
At the sudden movement that he obviously wasn't expecting, Harry screamed again. The
scream grated against Sirius, and tore at his heart. It might as well have come from himself. He
looked at Remus, who nodded, understanding what Sirius wanted. He lifted his wand, pointed it at
Harry, who had buried his head against Sirius's chest, and was now whimpering in pain in his
arms and said "Stupefy!"
Sirius felt Harry go limp; his head lolled back and his arms and legs hung pointlessly. They left
the house, Arabella turning off the light, and Remus floating Harry's trunk behind him.
* * *
A/N: Hee Hee. I don't think this is really a cliffhanger, but I just wanted to say that because
*clears throat and says in a singsong voice* I know what's going to happen and you don't
*Continues singing like an annoying kid until people throw stuff at her* Thanks for reading, thanks
for reviewing (if you do).
I know the HarryTorture is a little excessive . . . but that's the way I like it! (SHAMELESS PLUG
ALERT! SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT!) I have a favor to ask of you lovely reviewers. If you
know of a good HarryTorture story, or if you have one, tell me! I am having trouble finding new
ones, and I want to see if I've read them all, or if I am just looking in the wrong places.
Toodles,
~Avidia~