Disclaimer- I make no claim to owning anything related to the world of Harry Potter. It is the sole property of J.K. Rowling. I only own the plot.
The Summer After Sirius
Chapter 4: Torture
Waking up, Harry couldn't figure out why he was sleeping on a slab of cold, hard rock.
'What's going on?'
All of a sudden, there was a creeping and rattling noise, like someone taking long, forced breaths. The temperature in the cell also got extremely cold all of a sudden and Harry could once again hear the pleading screams of his mother.
"Not Harry, not Harry please not Harry!
BANG!
Harry was suddenly startled out of his drowsiness and despair with the slamming of his cell door.
'Oh yeah' he thought bitterly, 'Fudge locked me up to try to get rid of me.'
"So Mr. Potter, your finally awake. Today you will learn what it's like to be an enemy to the wizarding world."
"I don't know how many times I have to tell you, I've never killed anyone."
"We'll see if that's still your answer after a few days persuasion." Fudge responded, putting a lot of emphasis on persuasion.
"You heard what Dumbledore said. I'm not to be mistreated, remember?" He challenged.
"What Dumbledore doesn't know, won't hurt me, now will it boy?"
All Harry could do was stare open mouthed at that statement. Could he actually get away with it? Would he really hurt him without Dumbledore knowing?
"How could you do this to me? Don't you know that I'm the only one that can stop Voldemort?"
Fudge shuddered visibly at the mention of his name.
"A pathetic little attention seeking brat like you, defeat the most powerful dark wizard in history? I think not. He snapped back after composing himself.
"Not again anyway." He added as an after thought.
"You don't understand… the prophecy."
"Surely Dumbledore would be a better choice than such a scrawny no good kid who defies the law whenever he sees fit. You will pay for what you did to your cousin"
"But…"
"I should have expelled you and sent your sorry butt to Azkaban when you blew up your aunt three years ago. That would have saved us all a lot of grief."
That thought really struck him.
If he had gone to Azkaban in his third year, then Sirius would probably have been freed of all charges because he wouldn't have been there to save Pettigrew. Also in his forth year Voldemort wouldn't have been able to use his blood to be reborn.
It was all his fault. He should have been taken to the Dementors. If he had then none of this would have happened. Cedric would still be alive. Sirius would still be around and Dudley wouldn't have been murdered.
After letting that sink in, Fudge stormed out and left the Dementors do their work, leaving Harry with the memories of the worst things that had ever happened to him.
First came his mom screaming again, only this time it was intensified due to three more Dementors coming into view. The next thought took him back to a familiar looking graveyard. He could see Cedric looking at him.
"Kill the spare." Came a cold voice and in a flash of green light, Cedric was dead.
Harry couldn't see what came next as he fell to the floor, banging his head on the side of the slab of rock that was his bed with a loud thud, unconscious from the Dementors' effects.
It doesn't matter anymore, nothing does.
That was the only thought that went through his mind anymore.
Since that fateful day when he had been accused of murdering Dudley he had been tortured beyond anything the Dursleys ever did to him. His torment wasn't quite Dursley free though.
Fudge certainly had no qualms about letting his Uncle Vernon ridicule and belittle him constantly. In fact, he encouraged it.
He had not seen Dumbledore, Remus or anybody for that matter since he had arrived. Fudge had told him that he wouldn't be receiving any visitors because due to the crimes he was accused of, visitors weren't permitted.
When he had woken up after that first day here, the first thing that Fudge had done to him was strip him down too his boxers and he had given him a thin, sleeveless, raggedy looking tunic and a pair of ripped shorts that stopped just above his knees. This left him constantly cold in the freezing dungeon where he was forced to sleep on a hard and cold stone slab.
Then there were the beatings that happened daily. It usually started just before lunchtime with a break for lunch, but was then picked up again. The guard, a fellow by the name of Eric, would come into his cell and grab him unceremoniously around the throat and throw him into the wall with such force that by the third day, all he could see was little purple spots clouding his vision.
He was also punched until he fell to the ground and then kicked until he coughed up blood. He couldn't even taste the food they brought him anymore due to the blood taste in his mouth.
The food, if it could be called that, consisted of nothing more than a very weak bean soup along with a cup of discolored water and a slice of hard, stale bread.
The worst times were when Fudge would let his Uncle into his cell. He said that he should have the opportunity to take some revenge for the murder of his son. That maybe he would drag a confession out of him. These were by far the worst of the beatings due to the sheer ferocity of them. While Eric only did it on orders, his Uncle did it out of revenge and anger.
He would first grab him in a chokehold with his hand and slam him into the wall with his feet dangling, banging his head into it for good measure. Just when he thought he would pass out, he would be dropped on the cold, hard floor. Then he would be lifted up by his already damaged shoulder and punched repeatedly in the stomach and chest by the other arm. After that was through, he was thrown hard against the bars of the cell, usually so that his shoulder hit the bars and kicked until he passed out from shock.
For the first few days he would try as long as he cold to stay away from his Uncle but due to malnourishment and neglect and the fact that the cell was only six by six feet wide, there was no way to stay away from him for long.
This only seemed to intensify his Uncles rage though and by the fifth day he didn't even bother to put up resistance due to it being futile because in the end, he would always end up being caught and beaten.
That wasn't the extent of his punishment though, his greatest fear in the world, the Dementors, were almost always coming around at different times of the day making him relive different parts of his past, each more terrible then the last. Usually there would only be one Dementor placed outside his cell but whenever there was more than that, he would always pass out due to their effects and not wake up till what he assumed was the next morning, where the cycle would be repeated.
This was part of the reason why he was becoming so malnourished; he would usually miss breakfast from being passed out and then usually miss dinner also from the same reason. Not that the dinners were anything to write home about.
Probably the most depressing thing about being here in this dungeon was that he didn't even have a window to look out and stare at the clouds with or to look out at the moon.
Even Sirius, a convicted murderer of thirteen muggles was given a cell with a window while he was in Azkaban. Why was this injustice being put on him?
The only thing he could ever be accused of was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. For some reason he couldn't fathom, it seemed to happen to him quite a lot.
It was because of this that he could never be quite sure what time of the day it was. All he could do was guess what time it was and use the cycle of beatings. He wasn't even sure how long he had been kept in this hell due to the bizarre schedule. All he knew was that if he didn't get out soon, he would surely die in here because he wouldn't be able to take much more of this.
Waking up one day he could barely open his eyes remembering all too well the hell he had been through last night. Closing his eyes made it even clearer in his mind's eye.
Eric was standing in front of him smoking on a cigarette.
He had asked if he would mind smoking the thing someplace else but he just smirked and came into the cell. Somehow he knew he wasn't about to like this one bit and he was right.
Eric backhanded him hard into the wall where he crumpled into a heap. He then walked over, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and touching the burning end to his arm.
The pain was unreal. He had yelled out but was only rewarded with it being put on his arm again and again repeatedly. After doing his arms he started working on his chest till lunch was served. After lunch, the Dementors came and occupied his thoughts until he could no longer remember.
Sitting up and brushing away the memory, he looked into the smiling face of Cornelius Fudge. This was a rare occasion indeed as he hadn't seem him more than a couple of times since he arrived and never this happy.
"What a glorious day it is." He said smiling broadly.
"You wouldn't know it from in here, would you." He spat back.
He didn't really want to put up with Fudge's happiness on top of today's torture. It was almost torture enough to just be in his presence.
For some reason the smile never seemed to leave Fudge's face like it usually did when he talked back to him.
"Today we're taking a little trip." He answered, still smirking as he pulled out a rusty looking key and unlocked the cell.
Not waiting for an answer, he turned and started down the hall.
'What hell could he be dreaming up now' Harry thought wearily to himself.
Getting up slowly and minding the almost constant pain in his left shoulder from all the beatings he had received; he inched his way out of the cell and started after Fudge. Looking to his right he noticed that his Uncle was no longer in his cell and was nowhere in sight. Wondering what had become of him he continued following Fudge to the end of the hall and to the door that lead into the hall that brought him to the Ministry.
"Now, now, we can't have you walking anywhere unescorted now can we." Fudge said with a glint in his eye. With that he clapped his hands together and two Dementors came out of nowhere and grabbed his arms.
Before they could take him away, he had one question he wanted answered.
"Minister" he started. Putting as much respect as he could into his voice. "Could you please answer just one question?"
"Very well, what is it Potter?" He said sounding very bored all of a sudden.
"I was wondering how long I've been here?"
At this, a nasty glint came into his eye and a small smirk started at the corners of his mouth.
"Why my dear boy, you've been here for 14 days."
Two weeks!?!
It wasn't possible.
There was no way he had rotted in this hellhole for two weeks.
Fudge must have seen the shock on his face because he spoke again.
"Yes, it's true Potter, you have been here that long. And I've enjoyed every minute of it."
How could somebody be so cruel? It was inhuman to think that a human being could take such pleasure from another's suffering.
Seeing the smirking face of Cornelius Fudge mocking him was not something he could tolerate. In that moment, something inside Harry just snapped because in an instant he had his hands around Fudge's thick throat choking him for all he was worth.
With a terrified look on his face, Fudge suddenly reached up and sucker punched him in the stomach knocking the wind out of him.
As he fell to the floor holding his stomach tenderly and gasping in pain, Fudge looked down in disgust.
"Get this piece of filth out of my sight," he gasped as the Dementors reached down for him.
"Your as bad as Voldemort you know that." He whispered.
Seeing Fudge visibly tremble was enough for Harry to feel some elation but not much.
Yanking him up roughly by the shoulders, the Dementors lead him down the hall and up a couple flights of stairs. They finally stopped out in front of a plain blue painted door as he was about to pass out from being led around by his already damaged shoulder.
Upon opening the blue door he saw that it was a bare room except for a long frame hanging on the wall, a wood bench and a small stool with a single piece of parchment laid on it.
The Dementors roughly shoved him into the room and locked the door behind them as they left, leaving him alone.
He couldn't believe it, he had rotted in here for two weeks. Two weeks of his life were gone, wasted away like he had in here.
Gingerly he moved over to the stool with the parchment and started reading.
You will stay here until it is time for you. You won't be harmed. Have a pleasant stay.
This had to be a joke he thought to himself as he slowly made his way over to the frame on the wall, almost afraid of what he was going to see.
Standing in front of him was someone who looked haunted. The face was starting to look hollowed and wasn't helped any by how thin he was. He was almost skeletal. His hair was also straggly and unkempt. The worst part was the eyes. They were heavily lidded and were a very dull, almost steel color, as if there was no life left in them. He was also extremely dirty, like he hadn't showered in a very long time.
He was looking at himself in a mirror.
"My god" he said softly.
Looking closer he could see many bruises but they were hard to make out since there were so many. His hair was matted in many places and he was still wearing that disgusting tunic that he had received on his first day in captivity. He couldn't help but think that he looked worse than what Sirius had looked like and he had been in Azkaban for twelve years.
Just then, the door was flung open and the two Dementors were back along with a gruff looking Auror who was carrying two pairs of shackles.
"What's going on?" he asked the Auror, not sure if he would get an answer.
"Shut up and don't ask questions!" was his only response.
When the shackles were finished being put on, he was lead out of the room buy the two Dementors further down the hall to a door that Harry had seen before. He had had to go through it last summer when his hearing was held.
'The trial is going to happen now?' he thought quickly.
'There's no way that I'm ready. I'm nowhere near presentable. But that's what Fudge wants' he thought darkly. He wants to put out an image of me as a dirty, delinquent troublemaker. That way he'll get public opinion on his side.
These were his last thoughts as the doors were flung open and he was led inside to meet his fate.
A/N I'm so sorry for not updating sooner but I've had so many things going on that I haven't had as much time to put as much effort into it that I would like and I didn't want to put out a half cocked chapter. Thanks for your patience.
Also, I can't believe I didn't catch it sooner but I never said what happened to the Death Eaters that attacked Harry. I've since reposted chapter 2 having Dumbledore explain to Harry that they had all gotten away except for MacNair. Originally this and the next chapter were going one but as I got writing, it turned out that it was much longer than I had thought it would be. Don't worry though; the next chapter is practically done. It just needs to be tweaked a little and will be out by the end of the week.
Oh and please, don't forget to review.