A/N: Sorry about how short the last two chapters were, so I'll try to make
this one a bit longer. As I said, life has caught up with me. It could be
anywhere from a day to a week before this goes up.
RATING CHANGE: Due to some complaints that my stories are too.gruesome.I'm bumping up the rating a tad, even though I just did recently. It's now rated R.
NOTE TO ALL READERS! Again, I am sorry that in the past it has taken a while to post the update. However, I DO HAVE A LIFE OUTSIDE OF FANFICTION.NET! When I say I'll try to have an update in one week, it means I will TRY my hardest, not that I WILL for certain. Please take this into consideration when sending me e- mails or writing reviews. -Anna Dearest
Chapter 12
The school was subdued, especially the Gryffindors. Neville had never been popular, but he had been there. And all that was left there was nothingness, an empty space, a hole, if you will. Where Neville once occupied a seat, or a spot, there was only air and memories.
It seemed certain, in the minds of the students, that Neville Longbottom was dead long before they'd heard of his disappearance. Others outside the student population thought otherwise.
Fox was never one to give up hope on someone. Her sister happened to be an increasingly small minority.
At Dumbledore's request, Fox had gone scouting nearly all of the old Death Eater hideouts from the last war in hopes of finding Neville. So far, she'd been out of luck. But now, as she made her way to one of the last places on her list, instinct was driving her onwards, and in the form of a large black wolf, instincts were to be trusted.
It wasn't long before she arrived at the entrance to the old hideout. Transforming back into a human, she stood in a hooded cloak in front of a large statue of a snake, eroded by time and forgotten by most. In the middle of this vast forest, one of the key hideouts from the last war, and wars centuries ago, stood guarded by the grayish stone snake.
Pointing her wand at the head of the snake, she muttered a quick "Ouvrez Serpentia" before stepping back. The stone came to life and slithered out of her way, blinking back at her with its stone eyes while she made her way to the opening.
She illuminated the tip of her wand before proceeding down the spiral steps into the ground. Torches burst to light as she walked past, and dimmed as her shadow disappeared into the darkness. The carvings on the wall all depicted snakes and one man: Salazar Slytherin. Fox shuddered involuntarily. For being the last in the line of Slytherin's heirs, the place was certainly not welcoming.
Her reason for being in such a place was simple: Find evidence of Death Eaters, Neville, and past, present, and future plans. The Azkaban raid, as many knew, was only a bitter taste of what Voldemort could do.
The Azkaban raid was something that infuriated Fox beyond human comprehension. She'd not been able to sleep that entire night, as it seemed that pictures of Azkaban and of the attack seemed to be mercilessly plastered onto the back of her eyelids. And the last attack.kidnapping Neville. Fox quickly fought down the fury that built within her.
She wasn't truly dangerous, not when she was calm. A Polymagus could be a dangerous thing though, especially in such circumstances as Voldemort was only too happy to provide. Polymagi were well known to have terrible tempers, which led to unpredictable powers. These powers were apt to make themselves known during times of great stress of anger. So in truth, perhaps society was right, and maybe she was a dangerous creature.
Keen ears heard the sounds before she saw them, and keen nose caught the scent before they knew. Animal senses had to be a plus side to her condition.
In the darkness, the scuffing of shoes could be heard on the rocky surface, and the faint smell of Ogden's Firewhiskey drifted to Fox's sensitive nose, making her cringe in disgust, as the scent was magnified tenfold.
Coming around the corner was a Death Eater, who appeared to be the only one left in the hideout for the time being. He swayed drunkenly and hummed an awkward and indiscernible tune.
The Death Eater, who Fox identified as Macnair, reached point just meters from Fox's place in the shadows. Letting out one belch, he Apparated, luckily, for him that is, not splinching himself.
"Damn," Fox muttered. Without further problems, the hooded Polymagus found her way into a small dungeon-like courtyard, with cells leading off from the center. A crimson dye, looking terribly like blood, had dried itself on the floor of the cell nearest her. The scent of pain and torture wafted towards her on a nonexistent breeze, nearly choking her. Animal senses could be a downside too.
She could tell that this was the blood of someone young and desperately seeking help, and not of some Death Eater, who may well have deserved what had come to him. Fox flinched as she could nearly hear Neville's screams reverberating off of the cold stone walls. The scent of pain lingered here, never to fade away. For a moment, she stood still. She could almost see numerous other prisoners being tortured in the same cell, even catching the lingering scent of Pettigrew.
Glancing about for something to focus on besides the bloodstained floor, her eyes fell on a desk propped against one of the courtyard walls on three remaining legs. On top of the wooden surface were numerous sheets of parchments, layouts of the Azkaban fortress, and indeed, plans.
Gathering as much as she felt that the Order needed, Fox made her way swiftly to the place where she'd last seen Macnair. Glancing about once more, she Apparated with a pop, leaving the cold air and the stench of torture in the cold dank underground.
**********
Severus Snape paced his disturbingly quiet office. He'd not been called for a few weeks, and that itself was unnerving. Perhaps they just didn't want him to see Longbottom tortured, just because he taught the boy. They must fear he had a soft spot for the clumsy oaf.
Severus sighed. He could very well admit that he was worried out of his mind. He'd been under the Cruciatus Curse a good many times, and knew how terrible it could be. Of course, knowing Voldemort, that's not all they were probably doing to him.
Severus slumped his shoulders in resignation.
"Let's hope the boy truly is a Gryffindor," Snape snorted softly.
**********
"Are these the plans?" Dumbledore asked from over his desk, reaching for the rolls of parchment being extracted from Fox's cloak.
"Yes," she replied quickly. "And as much as I hate to say it, Neville was definitely there."
"In what condition, would you say?" the Headmaster softly inquired.
"Not the best. There was blood on the floor. The place smelt of torture, pain, and Death Eaters, which is torture enough. I even had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Macnair."
"Oh, really? I suppose they moved Neville. Well, what was our Mr. Macnair doing there?"
"He appeared to be the only one. It didn't seem to matter that he even existed at the time though. He reeked of drunkenness. I suppose you could say that he'd be of no help to either side at the time."
"I see. Have you already checked at the other locations?"
"Yes. I Apparated straight towards the entrance from inside."
"Anymore news?"
"None. There were no more signs of Neville, or Death Eaters."
"Very well. I want you to go get some rest. You've been gone three days, after all."
"Are you sure-?"
"Yes."
**********
"I can't believe this is happening."
"Sirius, stop pacing," Remus chided softly from his armchair. Sirius turned abruptly to face him.
"I can't help it! This is just the first step. They'll keep building up, until finally they make the last move."
"What do you mean?"
"Harry.why did this have to happen to him?"
"I don't know, Sirius," Remus sighed. He himself had often wondered that same thing.
"He'll never be 'normal' until this is over, and for this to be over."
"He has to face Voldemort again."
"Yes."
"Sirius, I think Harry's more worried about you."
"Why?"
"Because of what happened last time. He nearly broke, Sirius. He's been through so much and still stayed strong, but when he thought he'd lost you."
"What do you mean?"
"Harry cares for you like a father, a brother, and a friend. You mean more to him than you think. Which is why I want you to promise you won't do anything stupid."
"What.I never.what do you MEAN?"
"I mean that something REALLY happening to you won't help Harry. He needs you to help him through this. He can't do this is he loses you. He loves you Sirius. He may never say it, but he does."
"Oh."
"I know that he means everything to you. Just make sure you stay around to tell him."
"Yes, he does mean everything to me. And you're right. Thanks, Moony."
**********
"His Gram left the school crying yesterday," Seamus told Harry and Ron up in the boys' dormitory. "She was hysterical. They had to escort her back home."
"Wow." Ron said breathlessly. "I never pictured anything having that affect on her."
"Well, it is her grandson," Harry commented softly. The dorm had seemed empty after Neville's abduction, and no loud voices were heard from the sixth years' room as of late.
The four boys sighed inwardly. Neville's grandmother HAD come up to the school yesterday. Most of them had seen her arrive, but few had seen her departure. However, with Seamus' grim account of it, he was glad he wasn't there to see the woman in such a state of hopelessness and desperation.
"Let's just hope he's alright."
**********
The day hadn't been good. Death Eaters came and went, occasionally peeking into the cell to sneer or gape at him. Some of the younger Death Eaters, new recruits it seemed, remembered innocent, shy, clumsy Neville Longbottom from Hogwarts. What they didn't know was the crumpled and bloodied heap resided on the dungeon floor.
Houton Wise, quite an old member of Death Eater society, had taken to Neville's so-called "care" since his recent escape from Azkaban and Pettigrew's return to Hogwarts. The old, crooked man hobbled into the dungeon each morning with stale bread and broth for the beaten boy, that could barely hold it down.
Houton Wise had always been a slightly twisted man, along with most of his family. He gloried in death, rotting, and decay. He'd nearly enjoyed Azkaban, at least the view of the other prisoners' he had. The old man's graying hair had turned so long before its time, but he held his head proudly for his suffering. His face seemed to be twisted in constant agony, but anyone who knew him, knew it was just as sick and twisted as he was, as it was his smile.
The old man paced the dungeons, which seemed to be the old man's naturally understood place. He'd mutter to himself and cast his pale gray eyes about nervously. That was another thing about him, his eyes. They were cold and emotionless. And now, as they stared down at Neville in disgust, the greatly weakened boy shivered.
"Eat up, brat!" Wise shrieked maniacally.
Neville hesitantly brought the metal bowl of broth up to his mouth with shaking fingers. In a few gulps, he'd devoured the whole ration of the chunky, sorry excuse for a meal.
"You think that was good enough?" Wise sneered. Neville shivered in dreadful anticipation. "No, it wasn't. Nothing a Longbottom does is ever good enough! Crucio!"
Neville screamed and writhed on the ground, his recently consumed food churning wildly in his stomach. He balled up into a fetal position and hugged his stomach with his weak arms. Finally, when he could take no more, he wretched unto the dungeon floors. You'd think this would finally satisfy Wise, but no. He needed to here the screams of pain.
"Can't hold your food in, Longbottom?" he squealed. His eyes bulged and his face reddened, and he looked like a madman. "Well, I suppose you'll just need to develop a tolerance! Let me help you, Longbottom! Crucio!"
"That is enough, Houton," a cold voice hissed from the doorway after a moment. "We do, after all, have to keep him sane. If he's anything like his parents, he'll break quite easily."
"Yes, My Lord. I couldn't agree more." Wise was bowing in seconds, worshipping his Master's every word.
"Very well, then. See to it that Longbottom retains his food tomorrow. Lessen his rations if necessary," Voldemort said with a cruel smirk. "Now that sounds like a plan, does it not?"
"Yes my Lord, a most brilliant plan indeed."
"As I've said Longbottom, everyone breaks. It's only a matter of time. And your time is running out."
A/N: Yes that's all. It's only slightly longer than Chapters 10 and 11, but it fits in the grand scheme of things.
RATING CHANGE: Due to some complaints that my stories are too.gruesome.I'm bumping up the rating a tad, even though I just did recently. It's now rated R.
NOTE TO ALL READERS! Again, I am sorry that in the past it has taken a while to post the update. However, I DO HAVE A LIFE OUTSIDE OF FANFICTION.NET! When I say I'll try to have an update in one week, it means I will TRY my hardest, not that I WILL for certain. Please take this into consideration when sending me e- mails or writing reviews. -Anna Dearest
Chapter 12
The school was subdued, especially the Gryffindors. Neville had never been popular, but he had been there. And all that was left there was nothingness, an empty space, a hole, if you will. Where Neville once occupied a seat, or a spot, there was only air and memories.
It seemed certain, in the minds of the students, that Neville Longbottom was dead long before they'd heard of his disappearance. Others outside the student population thought otherwise.
Fox was never one to give up hope on someone. Her sister happened to be an increasingly small minority.
At Dumbledore's request, Fox had gone scouting nearly all of the old Death Eater hideouts from the last war in hopes of finding Neville. So far, she'd been out of luck. But now, as she made her way to one of the last places on her list, instinct was driving her onwards, and in the form of a large black wolf, instincts were to be trusted.
It wasn't long before she arrived at the entrance to the old hideout. Transforming back into a human, she stood in a hooded cloak in front of a large statue of a snake, eroded by time and forgotten by most. In the middle of this vast forest, one of the key hideouts from the last war, and wars centuries ago, stood guarded by the grayish stone snake.
Pointing her wand at the head of the snake, she muttered a quick "Ouvrez Serpentia" before stepping back. The stone came to life and slithered out of her way, blinking back at her with its stone eyes while she made her way to the opening.
She illuminated the tip of her wand before proceeding down the spiral steps into the ground. Torches burst to light as she walked past, and dimmed as her shadow disappeared into the darkness. The carvings on the wall all depicted snakes and one man: Salazar Slytherin. Fox shuddered involuntarily. For being the last in the line of Slytherin's heirs, the place was certainly not welcoming.
Her reason for being in such a place was simple: Find evidence of Death Eaters, Neville, and past, present, and future plans. The Azkaban raid, as many knew, was only a bitter taste of what Voldemort could do.
The Azkaban raid was something that infuriated Fox beyond human comprehension. She'd not been able to sleep that entire night, as it seemed that pictures of Azkaban and of the attack seemed to be mercilessly plastered onto the back of her eyelids. And the last attack.kidnapping Neville. Fox quickly fought down the fury that built within her.
She wasn't truly dangerous, not when she was calm. A Polymagus could be a dangerous thing though, especially in such circumstances as Voldemort was only too happy to provide. Polymagi were well known to have terrible tempers, which led to unpredictable powers. These powers were apt to make themselves known during times of great stress of anger. So in truth, perhaps society was right, and maybe she was a dangerous creature.
Keen ears heard the sounds before she saw them, and keen nose caught the scent before they knew. Animal senses had to be a plus side to her condition.
In the darkness, the scuffing of shoes could be heard on the rocky surface, and the faint smell of Ogden's Firewhiskey drifted to Fox's sensitive nose, making her cringe in disgust, as the scent was magnified tenfold.
Coming around the corner was a Death Eater, who appeared to be the only one left in the hideout for the time being. He swayed drunkenly and hummed an awkward and indiscernible tune.
The Death Eater, who Fox identified as Macnair, reached point just meters from Fox's place in the shadows. Letting out one belch, he Apparated, luckily, for him that is, not splinching himself.
"Damn," Fox muttered. Without further problems, the hooded Polymagus found her way into a small dungeon-like courtyard, with cells leading off from the center. A crimson dye, looking terribly like blood, had dried itself on the floor of the cell nearest her. The scent of pain and torture wafted towards her on a nonexistent breeze, nearly choking her. Animal senses could be a downside too.
She could tell that this was the blood of someone young and desperately seeking help, and not of some Death Eater, who may well have deserved what had come to him. Fox flinched as she could nearly hear Neville's screams reverberating off of the cold stone walls. The scent of pain lingered here, never to fade away. For a moment, she stood still. She could almost see numerous other prisoners being tortured in the same cell, even catching the lingering scent of Pettigrew.
Glancing about for something to focus on besides the bloodstained floor, her eyes fell on a desk propped against one of the courtyard walls on three remaining legs. On top of the wooden surface were numerous sheets of parchments, layouts of the Azkaban fortress, and indeed, plans.
Gathering as much as she felt that the Order needed, Fox made her way swiftly to the place where she'd last seen Macnair. Glancing about once more, she Apparated with a pop, leaving the cold air and the stench of torture in the cold dank underground.
**********
Severus Snape paced his disturbingly quiet office. He'd not been called for a few weeks, and that itself was unnerving. Perhaps they just didn't want him to see Longbottom tortured, just because he taught the boy. They must fear he had a soft spot for the clumsy oaf.
Severus sighed. He could very well admit that he was worried out of his mind. He'd been under the Cruciatus Curse a good many times, and knew how terrible it could be. Of course, knowing Voldemort, that's not all they were probably doing to him.
Severus slumped his shoulders in resignation.
"Let's hope the boy truly is a Gryffindor," Snape snorted softly.
**********
"Are these the plans?" Dumbledore asked from over his desk, reaching for the rolls of parchment being extracted from Fox's cloak.
"Yes," she replied quickly. "And as much as I hate to say it, Neville was definitely there."
"In what condition, would you say?" the Headmaster softly inquired.
"Not the best. There was blood on the floor. The place smelt of torture, pain, and Death Eaters, which is torture enough. I even had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Macnair."
"Oh, really? I suppose they moved Neville. Well, what was our Mr. Macnair doing there?"
"He appeared to be the only one. It didn't seem to matter that he even existed at the time though. He reeked of drunkenness. I suppose you could say that he'd be of no help to either side at the time."
"I see. Have you already checked at the other locations?"
"Yes. I Apparated straight towards the entrance from inside."
"Anymore news?"
"None. There were no more signs of Neville, or Death Eaters."
"Very well. I want you to go get some rest. You've been gone three days, after all."
"Are you sure-?"
"Yes."
**********
"I can't believe this is happening."
"Sirius, stop pacing," Remus chided softly from his armchair. Sirius turned abruptly to face him.
"I can't help it! This is just the first step. They'll keep building up, until finally they make the last move."
"What do you mean?"
"Harry.why did this have to happen to him?"
"I don't know, Sirius," Remus sighed. He himself had often wondered that same thing.
"He'll never be 'normal' until this is over, and for this to be over."
"He has to face Voldemort again."
"Yes."
"Sirius, I think Harry's more worried about you."
"Why?"
"Because of what happened last time. He nearly broke, Sirius. He's been through so much and still stayed strong, but when he thought he'd lost you."
"What do you mean?"
"Harry cares for you like a father, a brother, and a friend. You mean more to him than you think. Which is why I want you to promise you won't do anything stupid."
"What.I never.what do you MEAN?"
"I mean that something REALLY happening to you won't help Harry. He needs you to help him through this. He can't do this is he loses you. He loves you Sirius. He may never say it, but he does."
"Oh."
"I know that he means everything to you. Just make sure you stay around to tell him."
"Yes, he does mean everything to me. And you're right. Thanks, Moony."
**********
"His Gram left the school crying yesterday," Seamus told Harry and Ron up in the boys' dormitory. "She was hysterical. They had to escort her back home."
"Wow." Ron said breathlessly. "I never pictured anything having that affect on her."
"Well, it is her grandson," Harry commented softly. The dorm had seemed empty after Neville's abduction, and no loud voices were heard from the sixth years' room as of late.
The four boys sighed inwardly. Neville's grandmother HAD come up to the school yesterday. Most of them had seen her arrive, but few had seen her departure. However, with Seamus' grim account of it, he was glad he wasn't there to see the woman in such a state of hopelessness and desperation.
"Let's just hope he's alright."
**********
The day hadn't been good. Death Eaters came and went, occasionally peeking into the cell to sneer or gape at him. Some of the younger Death Eaters, new recruits it seemed, remembered innocent, shy, clumsy Neville Longbottom from Hogwarts. What they didn't know was the crumpled and bloodied heap resided on the dungeon floor.
Houton Wise, quite an old member of Death Eater society, had taken to Neville's so-called "care" since his recent escape from Azkaban and Pettigrew's return to Hogwarts. The old, crooked man hobbled into the dungeon each morning with stale bread and broth for the beaten boy, that could barely hold it down.
Houton Wise had always been a slightly twisted man, along with most of his family. He gloried in death, rotting, and decay. He'd nearly enjoyed Azkaban, at least the view of the other prisoners' he had. The old man's graying hair had turned so long before its time, but he held his head proudly for his suffering. His face seemed to be twisted in constant agony, but anyone who knew him, knew it was just as sick and twisted as he was, as it was his smile.
The old man paced the dungeons, which seemed to be the old man's naturally understood place. He'd mutter to himself and cast his pale gray eyes about nervously. That was another thing about him, his eyes. They were cold and emotionless. And now, as they stared down at Neville in disgust, the greatly weakened boy shivered.
"Eat up, brat!" Wise shrieked maniacally.
Neville hesitantly brought the metal bowl of broth up to his mouth with shaking fingers. In a few gulps, he'd devoured the whole ration of the chunky, sorry excuse for a meal.
"You think that was good enough?" Wise sneered. Neville shivered in dreadful anticipation. "No, it wasn't. Nothing a Longbottom does is ever good enough! Crucio!"
Neville screamed and writhed on the ground, his recently consumed food churning wildly in his stomach. He balled up into a fetal position and hugged his stomach with his weak arms. Finally, when he could take no more, he wretched unto the dungeon floors. You'd think this would finally satisfy Wise, but no. He needed to here the screams of pain.
"Can't hold your food in, Longbottom?" he squealed. His eyes bulged and his face reddened, and he looked like a madman. "Well, I suppose you'll just need to develop a tolerance! Let me help you, Longbottom! Crucio!"
"That is enough, Houton," a cold voice hissed from the doorway after a moment. "We do, after all, have to keep him sane. If he's anything like his parents, he'll break quite easily."
"Yes, My Lord. I couldn't agree more." Wise was bowing in seconds, worshipping his Master's every word.
"Very well, then. See to it that Longbottom retains his food tomorrow. Lessen his rations if necessary," Voldemort said with a cruel smirk. "Now that sounds like a plan, does it not?"
"Yes my Lord, a most brilliant plan indeed."
"As I've said Longbottom, everyone breaks. It's only a matter of time. And your time is running out."
A/N: Yes that's all. It's only slightly longer than Chapters 10 and 11, but it fits in the grand scheme of things.