Chapter 2 – Lord Voldemort's Lair
It was a beautiful summer's day in Hogsmeade Square. Children splashed in the fountain, bright-robed young wizards and witches stood by talking, laughing, visiting old friends and making new ones as more somber colored elders went about their business. As the only all-wizard village in England, Hogsmeade had always had a special air about it. It was a place where a wizard or witch could be himself or herself, unhampered by the constraints of rigid Muggle concepts of reality. As such, it had always enjoyed a relaxed, happy, and almost frivolous atmosphere.
All joy and levity dissipated abruptly as six new figures appeared. Three obvious Muggles, faces plastered with a combination of fear, confusion, and the sudden anguish that accompanies suddenly finding out the world didn't exactly work the way you thought it did. Two of the others were red-haired, robed wizards, wands in hand, cut, soot stained, and battle weary. The third was a battered and seriously injured witch.
As the effects of being in a completely different place than mere seconds before wore off, the two wizards began to move. "Someone call a Medi-wizard!" shouted the younger. "Hurry! We need help here," emphasized the elder. As with any crowd of people in such circumstances, most evaporated away, a few moved closer to see what aid they might give, and a couple ran off to get the help called for.
Reality came back into focus for Harry. He was in a large hall with Draco's hand still around his wrist. Everywhere he looked, he saw Death Eaters. He braced himself for the worst. "Petrificus Totalus!" He felt the spell slam into him and his body go rigid. Draco at last released his grasp.
"Master Malfoy, we've been waiting for you," drawled a voice from outside Harry's now fixed field of view. It was the voice that haunted his dreams and made his blood run cold. It was Lord Voldemort.
The Dark Lord stepped into his line of sight. "Harry Potter, you have no idea the troubles I've gone through to get you here. I have great plans for you, but they will have wait. I have other matters to attend to." Voldemort snapped his fingers and two Death Eaters appeared. "Take Mr. Potter to his room until I am ready for him."
The black-robed figures picked Harry up as if he were a statue and carried him down dark hallways then turned into a room. Once inside, they dropped him unceremoniously onto the bed. Harry stared at the ceiling, not that he had any choice about the matter, and played connect the dots with the patterns in the ceiling tiles. He heard the door shut and lock as his escort left.
Back in the Great Hall, Lord Voldemort reviewed his troops. "I would really like to know why a team of twenty Death Eaters, sent to retrieve one whelp of a wizard, comes back eight members short, and looking as if they've been shredded."
"Aurors arrived, Master," stammered one of the Death Eaters. "We were forced to fight back."
No sooner had the word left his mouth than he fell to the floor in agony. "I know that, you fool! The whole point of the mission was to go in, snatch Potter, and then leave. Had you followed these simple instructions, there would have been no bloody Aurors." Voldemort released his minion from agony, but kicked him as attempted to regain his feet. "Stay on the ground, worm, or I may be tempted to snap that feeble mind of yours."
"Where is Ferguson?" demanded Voldemort, "He is responsible for this fiasco! Every Auror in England is buzzing around like an angry hornet! There will be hell to pay for this!"
"Ferguson is dead, M'lord" Draco answered.
"Master Malfoy," Voldemort turned to face him. Despite his best efforts to the contrary, Draco felt himself begin to tremble. "You arrived with Potter. Tell me what happened."
"We arrived shortly after the Weasleys and the Mudblood Granger," Draco started. "We stormed the house to find that the Potter and the others had gone upstairs. Several attempts were made to retrieve them, and all failed. In the last attempt, Ferguson perished. The Mudblood was also wounded. Potter managed to send an owl for assistance.
"While searching the house, I discovered Potter's Muggle relatives. Since Ferguson was down, I taunted Potter by placing his Uncle under the cruciatus and threatening to do the same to the others. When I threatened to curse his Aunt, Potter offered a deal. In exchange for the release of the others, he offered to surrender. I accepted."
"You let the other's go?" Voldemort asked in disbelief.
Draco bowed his head and braced himself for the cruciatus he knew was coming. "It was the only way, Master. We were running out of time. No instructions were given for the others, only for Potter. I felt it was an acceptable risk. I gave them a Port Key to Hogsmeade. When the Aurors began to arrive, Potter was going to back out of the deal, so I used my emergency port Key to bring him here."
"I told him we should kill the Muggles, Master," another Death Eater spoke.
"This was your first raid, young Malfoy?" Voldemort demanded.
"Yes, Master." Draco answered, head still pointing downward.
Voldemort began to pace again. "I would have preferred that the others had been killed, but I am not unhappy. You used your head and accomplished the goal, as you knew it. You used Potter's own qualities against him. That was a brilliant touch. You did well and your father will be proud. I am adding you to my staff. I believe that brain of yours will be of great use to me."
Voldemort dismissed the company and Draco left with his head high. He stepped into the flue quite happy with himself. He had delivered his enemy to his master and been rewarded for it. He was now a member of The Dark Lord's personal staff, and no longer a mere Death Eater. Destiny approached.
Harry spent the night rigidly staring at the ceiling. It was impossible to measure the passage of time, but it seemed as if an eternity has passed. He tried counting breaths to get an idea of the passage of time, but after a few hundred, he would lose count and have to start over. Normally, a Petrificus Spell wouldn't last more than an hour or so, but he was quite sure longer than that had passed.
The sounds around him gave little clue or comfort. In the distance he heard occasional screams, and periodically there were footsteps in the hall. The silence and the inability to move began to eat away at his resolve. Fear and anxiety began to loom as dark shadows over his consciousness as he wondered what was in store for him.
He believed that he had done the right thing. Lives had been at stake, and without his surrender, Hermione could easily have died. And the Dursleys… Damn Draco… being forced to bargain with Draco to save the Dursleys was a cruel twist. No matter what they had done to him in the past he just couldn't have let the Death Eaters torture them. What irked him the most though, was that the most likely response he would get from them was 'Why hadn't he surrendered sooner?'
"You let him surrender?" Ginny screamed. Her face was even more scarlet than her hair. "What the bloody hell were you thinking?"
"Ginny, calm down," Mr. Weasley said and attempted to put his arm around her. "We all know how much Harry means to you…"
Ginny pushed her father's arm away. "How much he means to me? He's Harry Effing Potter, and you left him to be carted off to the freaking Dark Lord himself?"
"Hermione was dying, Gin," Ron objected. "It was the only way to save her. It was Harry's idea, it's not like we asked him to do it"
"I don't care about Hermione, and I don't care if it was Harry's idea. Harry's a bleeding hero, of course it was his idea. You're supposed to be his friends, you're supposed to keep him from doing stupid things like that. Since when is your girlfriend more important than The-Boy-Who-Lived?"
"Since when is your boyfriend more important than my girlfriend?"
Ginny shook with anger, tried to speak, but could only utter unintelligible syllables. "This is the first time in my life I've ever been ashamed to be a Weasley," she finally managed to spew. Flushed with the heat of rage, she decided to go outside and get some fresh air. She left the room in a flourish of red.
Oblivious to her surroundings, Ginny stormed through the halls of St. Mungo's, through the front door and outside onto the streets of London. She had no idea where she was really, or where she was going. She just needed to get away and think… and cry.
"You must be Ginny Weasley," proclaimed a voice from the shadows.
Without thinking, Ginny drew her wand. Just try something, creep, she thought to herself, you just picked the wrong witch to mess with.
A wiry, dark-haired man, with a hard-edged look to him emerged ever so slightly, so that his face was visible. "Easy now, I'm not going to hurt you…" he said as reassuringly as he could manage.
"You should be more worried about me hurting you," Ginny said coldly.
"I'm Sirius Black," the man said, "Harry's godfather."
Ginny lowered her wand. "He's told me about you."
"What's going on? I heard there was an attack in Surrey, and that people were injured. Where is Harry? Is he ok?"
Ginny began to shake and then to cry. Giant sobs racked her body and she had difficulty staying on her feet. Sirius out an arm around her in an attempt to provide comfort. Ginny put her arms around him in return, hugging him tightly and weeping into his chest. Sirius could do nothing but hold her.
"He's gone," she finally murmured, attempting to regain her composure. "You-know-who has him."
Sirius had a sick look on his face. "What? How? He was supposed to be safe there."
"Death Eaters attacked as my father was arriving to take him back to the Burrow. Hermione was badly injured. Harry surrendered himself to save them and the Dursleys."
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Sirius exhaled. Suddenly he didn't feel so steady on his own feet. "Do you know what they're doing to try and find him?"
Ginny shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "I asked an Auror and was told that even if they knew where he was, they couldn't hope to rescue him."
Sirius staggered back into the shadows and leaned against the wall.
"We've got to do something," Ginny said with determination. "I don't care if I have to go myself, I am not giving up on him."
"I'll do what I can to find him. I can get places that Aurors can't. Promise me you won't do anything rash."
"I can't make that promise." Ginny answered. "If I find a chance to save him, I am taking it."
"You can help more by staying put," Sirius warned. "I swear to you that if Harry is still alive, I will find him and I will save him. It is easier for me to move among Death Eaters than it is to walk the streets of London. You can help there. If you find out anything, send me an owl. If I find out anything in the field, I'll send it to you and you can make it gets to the right people."
Ginny considered his words. "I'll help, but I'm still not making a promise I won't keep."
Sirius smiled tightly. "Fair enough. Just remember that if we get Harry back, he's going to need you. I don't doubt you could rip apart your share of Death Eaters, but you'll do Harry more good by being there for him once he's rescued."
"It will take more than Death Eaters to keep that from happening." Ginny replied firmly.
"I'll be in touch," Sirius said. "Send an owl if you find out anything." He then transformed into a large dog, barked and took off at a sprint down the street.
Ginny exhaled deeply then went back into the hospital to find her family.
Harry's muscles cried out in agony from being frozen so long in the same position. Night had fallen, passed and now the dawn had arrived. By his best guess, he had been staring at the ceiling now for fourteen hours. The Petrificus spell, prevented all voluntary motion but allowed involuntary motion, so that while he could breathe and blink, he could not close his eyes to sleep. He was exhausted, in pain, hunger gnawed at his stomach, and suspense and fear combined to sap his will
When at last he heard the sound of the door to his room being opened, anxiety overwhelmed all other sensation.
"Finite Incantem" Instantly, Harry's body was released and collapsed onto the bed beneath him. He tried to stretch, but found he barely had the strength to move. "The Master wishes for your presence. On your feet!"
With great effort, Harry lifted himself into a sitting position. The Death Eater, impatient, grabbed him by the shoulder and lifted him up. Harry staggered, but the Death Eater's grip did not slacken. Harry found himself being half dragged down the hallway and into a dining room where a table, set with food, filled the room. Sitting at the table, spreading butter on a muffin was Lord Voldemort.
"You will not manhandle my guests that way," the Dark Lord barked. "Help Mr. Potter to his seat… Gently!… Then leave us."
Harry was seated at the table on the opposite end from Lord Voldemort. His mouth watered and his stomach knotted uncomfortably at the sight of food.
"Do help yourself, Harry. I can call you Harry, can't I?"
"Can I call you Tom?" Harry asked.
There was a flash of anger on Voldemort's face, but it was quickly replaced by patently false laughter. "No, you may not," he answered emphatically. "We will talk about business later though. Now eat! Certainly you must be hungry."
Harry stared at the food intently wondering whether or not he should eat. The food could be poisoned or otherwise magicked, but of course he was already in Lord Voldemort's power, and could be cursed or poisoned at anytime. If the food was real, then it might give him the strength he needed to escape when he found the opportunity. He decided to take the risk.
Several muffins, an apple, and three glasses of pumpkin juice later, Harry felt sated. Lord Voldemort had waited patiently for Harry to finish before speaking. "It was really quite foolish of you to surrender for the sake of Muggles, Harry" he drawled as Harry finished the last of his juice. "Especially when, if the rumors are true, they have a history of treating you so shabbily."
"Muggles are people too," Harry replied.
"Really, Harry, you must get over this damned nobility of yours, or it will be your undoing."
"I am what I am," replied Harry.
"That may be," Voldemort answered, "But for your sake, I hope not." Then he paused as servants came in to clear the table. When they were gone he continued. "You and I really aren't so different, you know. I was very much like you at one point."
"So where did you go wrong?" Harry snapped.
Again there was a flash of anger and this time it did not fade so quickly. "I realized the truth that you have yet to learn. Nobility and all of the other so-called virtues are simply traps by which the weak enslave the strong. I had no desire to be a slave, and neither, I think, do you!"
"So you would reverse the wrong and have the weak enslaved by the strong? Wasn't that tried in the Dark Ages? This is your virtue?"
"Virtue is irrelevant. Everything that I can take is mine by right, and I can take a great deal, indeed."
"So why am I here?" Harry asked bluntly.
"Because you are my enemy, but it doesn't have to be so. You represent a great deal of power, young Harry. Not so much that I could not destroy you, and don't think for an instant that I won't. You could do well for yourself as my servant."
"So instead of a slave, you would have me be a servant? Doesn't sound like a big step up to me…"
"I would require your loyalty and obedience, but otherwise your fate would be your own. Those who serve me well want for nothing. Those who oppose me only find death."
Harry started to speak, but Voldemort stopped him. "Don't answer yet, we will talk of this later." Death Eaters appeared - one on either side. Harry rose and followed where they led him. Back in the room where he had spent the previous night, he set about looking for a means of escape. Much as he expected though, he found none.
"What will the neighbors think?" Aunt Petunia asked in dismay.
"We're ruined…" Uncle Vernon lamented. "We're homeless…"
Dudley remained quiet as he looked at the remains of the only home he'd ever known. The smell of ash filled the air along with the heavier grit of plaster, mortar, and who knew what else. The upstairs was gone, and the downstairs was simply a repository for rubble. Dudley took it all in with his eyes wide, barely bothering to blink. Closing his eyes did little good anyway – the images stayed in his mind whether he looked or not… all of them.
The Dursley family grief was interrupted by a stranger, a man very obviously one of 'them'. His mother and father cringed slightly from the hand he offered as introduction, but Dudley stepped up and took it, shaking it somewhat tenuously.
"I'm sorry about you loss," the wizard offered. "We're doing everything we can though…" he added grimly.
"It's the only house we have," Uncle Vernon insisted. "Where are we going to live?"
The robed figure looked at him oddly in response. "Your nephew, I meant. Harry Potter."
There was a bit of surprise in Vernon Dursley's eyes for an instant. "Yes, the boy… yes, yes, terrible."
Another odd look from the wizard before going on, "I've been authorized to repair the damage done here, and return things to their original state," he said producing a wand from his sleeve. "This shouldn't take too long."
"Wait," objected Aunt Petunia. "What about the neighbors?" she whispered
"That'll be taken care of," the short reply.
A few hours later, everything was as it had been before the battle. All three member of the Dursley family walked through the house carefully, as if they didn't truly believe their eyes. Despite the familiarity, they approached everything as it were new.
"Memory charms are being administered to your neighbors," the stranger explained. "They'll have no recollection of anything out of the ordinary having occurred over the past three days. I'm authorized to offer you the same treatment, if you want."
"Wait," objected Dudley. "I want to know why this happened."
Again, the puzzled look. "They wanted your cousin…"
"But why?" demanded Dudley. "Who would want Harry Potter bad enough to do this?"
"He's Harry Potter," the stranger stated, as if that should be explanation enough. The blank stare that greeted told him otherwise, so he explained briefly Harry's significance. When he was done, he once again offered the option of a memory charm.
"It it's all the same," declared Dudley, "I want to remember this."
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia also refused the charm. The Auror shrugged and dis-apparated out of the house very confused about the whole encounter.
Several hours of interminable boredom later, Harry was brought a fresh robe, and escorted to the bath to freshen himself up. Again he searched for a means of escape but failed. Clean and dressed, he was taken to dinner, where he ate his fill, then brought into the great hall where he had first arrived. Lord Voldemort was there with an assemblage of Death Eaters, mostly un-hooded. Among their number was a smirking Draco Malfoy standing beside his father.
"Hello again, Harry," Lord Voldemort called with a magnanimous gesture, as if greeting an old friend. Harry, for his part, tried to remain complacent. "Harry and I have been discussing his joining my forces, haven't we, Harry?"
Harry remained silent, but Voldemort seemed nonplussed.
"Before I could accept your loyalty," the Dark Lord continued. "I require a token of goodwill, a gesture, you might say."
"And that would be?" Harry asked calmly.
"Just a small thing, really," Voldemort answered with a smile. "Rumor has it that you might know the whereabouts of the sword of Gryffindor. If this were true, and you were to hand it over to me, or tell me where I might find it, well… let us simply say that I would be obliged to overlook any past transgressions you may have committed against me."
"I don't know what you're talking about," insisted Harry.
"Oh come now, Harry," replied Voldemort. "Surely you don't think such an important event as the passing of the sword could take place without my knowing about it?"
"I really have no idea," answered Harry.
Voldemort seemed perturbed. "Very well, perhaps I am going about this the wrong way. You and I do have a certain history don't we? Perhaps, in order to prove that I am genuine, I should make the first gesture. What would you ask of me, Harry?"
"You have nothing that I want," Harry replied.
"Really?" asked Voldemort in mock surprise. "Perhaps if I delivered your enemies to you, as I am asking of you… I have heard that there is little love lost between you and Master Malfoy. As a token of good faith, I will give him to you to dispose of as you see fit." He gestured to his bodyguards. "Seize the younger Malfoy, and relieve him of his wand."
The Death Eaters instantly complied and Draco was grappled and manhandled into position before Harry and Voldemort. Draco's face was ashen.
"Well, Harry, make the worm pay." Harry's only answer was a blank stare. "Oh yes, you need a wand…" Voldemort produced one and handed it to him. Harry took the wand and carefully considered it. He pointed it and watched as Draco's face changed to an expression of horror. Harry gestured as if about to cast, but stopped the motion short. In his mind he ran over every spell he knew trying to decide on the one most appropriate to the situation.
He raised the wand again, but instead of casting at Draco, he turned and pointed it at floor below Lord Voldemort's feet. "Reducto!" There was no explosion though, no rain of wood or splinters, only silence.
"You didn't really think I would give you a real wand, did you Harry?" Voldemort asked and began to laugh. "If you had attempted to give Malfoy his due, perhaps I might have given you one then, but perhaps not. You are beyond hope, Potter. Since you wouldn't do it my way, we'll do it yours." Voldemort produced his own wand and pointed at Harry. "Crucio!"
Harry tried to keep to his feet, but soon fell to the floor as excruciating pain conquered his body. He writhed on the floor to the sound of his own screams until the spell ended. He gasped for air and tried to pull himself to his feet, when the spell was renewed. A second time the spell ended, leaving Harry too drained to move. The smell of bile assaulted him and he realized that his supper had vacated his stomach.
"Get this pile of dung out of here!" the Dark Lord ordered. "See that he finds less pleasant accommodations than he had earlier."
Harry's arms were seized and he was dragged like a limp rag through the hallways, down stairs, across a stone floor, and then tossed into a small chamber about the size of a broom closet. The door slammed shut and he was left in total darkness.
Three long weeks had passed since Harry's capture. To Ginny it seemed as if it had been years. She slept only when exhaustion had claimed so much strength that she could no longer move, or when some concerned faculty member had Madame Pomfrey force a Sleeping Draught down her throat. The dreams of sleep were worse than the pain of being awake. She could not close her eyes without seeing images of Harry, emaciated, bruised, and in agony, or worse, dead and lifeless.
The halls of Hogwarts brought her no comfort. Around every corner there was something that reminded her of Harry. The smell of Pumpkin juice in the great hall, the entire Gryffindor Common Room, even Professor Snape and his eternal sneer reminded her of him, and how much Harry wanted to wipe that look off of the potion master's face. She had lost so many points for her House, served so many detentions, that she was in danger of setting a new record.
House Cups, House points, even Quidditch hardly seemed to matter. All that mattered in her world was Harry – that he was alive, in danger, and suffering with no hope of escape or rescue. In her free time she scoured the library looking for some bit of magic that might help. She went through countless musty tomes, and pored over faded manuscripts with print so small, she needed a magnifying charm to have any chance of reading them.
When at last she found what she was looking for, she found both the spells she needed in a single book. Her new mission then became the gathering of the ingredients and materials she needed to actually perform the magic. In Harry's absence, she had adopted Hedwig, doting on the owl as a link to Harry. Hedwig, seeming to understand with intelligence far beyond a normal owl, accepted Ginny and listened attentively to the new instructions given her.
"You're a real mess, Potter" Draco drawled is his silkiest, most condescending voice. "You really should get out more."
Harry lay strapped to a table, feet and hands were stretched taut and bound by leather straps. It was the truth - he was a mess. His life had become an eternal melange of darkness and pain. Such relief as he found was in the few hours he was allowed to pass out from pain and exhaustion. The agony of being woken to face more torture though made it seem hardly worth while.
Time had ceased to have objective meaning for him. He was sure it had been days at the least, but it felt like years, even decades. It seemed as if his whole life had been spent here in this dungeon and few memories of his life before penetrated the haze of misery. From the past, only visions of Ginny came to him, eyes gleaming and soft words on her lips – although they had never touched in their time together, he could almost feel her trying to caress his pain away. This secret inner dream renewed his strength and he clung to it desperately, hoping beyond all hope.
"Bugger off, Malfoy," Harry murmured
"Really, Potter! I'd think you'd have learned some manners by now, or at least to keep that mouth of yours shut."
Harry remained silent.
"That's the spirit. The Master has been pleased with my performance, so much so that he has given me this opportunity to come and add to your pain. You wouldn't believe how many Muggles and Mudbloods I've had to torment to earn this chance."
Harry grimaced but didn't speak.
"It's rather a let down actually, you're hardly in any shape to appreciate pain… It also occurs to me that I might owe you a certain debt. If you hadn't been so foolish as to attack the master, I might very easily be where you are right now. You are a fool, no doubt, Potter, but a Malfoy always repays his debts. I will spare you physical pain, and leave you with this and consider the matter closed."
Draco leaned close to Harry's ear and began to whisper. "I lied to you in Surrey. That port key didn't go to Hogsmeade. It went to my father's estate. You accomplished nothing. Your precious Weasleys were subjected to the cruciatus until their feeble minds snapped. Granger didn't need any help, she expired all on her own."
Harry lurched at his bounds with all of his remaining strength, only succeeding in causing himself more pain. Enraged, he tried to summon some inner magic to either free himself or strike down Draco, but nothing came. Draco only stood back and watched with an amused look on his face. Harry struggled until the last of his strength left him, then slumped like a rag onto the table.
"Goodbye, Potter" Draco said finally, heading for the exit. "Do try to hang on until I can visit again…" There was a slamming of a heavy metal door, and then silence.
Ginny made her way through the stone halls of Hogwarts on her way to the Headmaster's office. Headmistress, she corrected herself. It was still hard to believer that Professor Dumbledore was gone. First Dumbledore, and now Harry – it was just too much.
"Transmogrification," she spoke to the Gargoyle statue, which promptly opened the portal that would give her access to Professor McGonagall's office. At the top of the winding stairs there was an audience waiting for her: Sirius Black, Professors Lupin, Moody and McGonagall, and two grim looking wizards in plain gray robes whom she did not know.
Professor McGonagall wasted no time getting started. "Mr. Black tells us that you have some rather important information regarding the whereabouts of Mr. Potter."
"I've found him, or Sirius and I together have found him." Ginny answered.
"I'm sure you won't mind us asking, lass" Professor Moody asked, "But how?"
"With a Speculum Veneificus, A Quaestio Tergiversatio, and an Expiscor charm," Ginny answered, quite satisfied with herself.
"I'm afraid I don't know any of those," admitted Professor Moody admitted.
"A Wizard's Mirror and some sort of Seeking Charms," answered one of the anonymous Wizards. "Explain this to us, please."
"I created the mirror first, as a means of proving that Harry is, in fact, alive." She rummaged through her book bag and produced a silver mirror and a map of England. The mirror bore the image of a battered Harry, collapsed against the wall of a small stone room. Reluctantly she passed the mirror around the room.
"I tried using standard seeking spells, but they turned up nothing. If one assumes that he was taken to You-Know-Who, it only follows that the location would be unplottable. I did a lot of research then and came up with a new strategy. If I couldn't find out where Harry was, then perhaps I could find out where he wasn't. I found two very old tracking spells in the library, and used them together along with a map to try and find him. The fact that he was in an unplottable location still interfered so further modification was required. I was unable to find his exact location, but I was able to narrow it down to a general area."
"Then she contacted me," Sirius interjected. "I used my, uh, skills to search that area until I finally located the exact location." Sirius took the map from Ginny and stretched it out on a table. "He is being held here." Sirius put his finger down on the map in Wales very close to Anglesey. "I staked out the site for two days to verify it, and saw the comings and goings of several dozen Death Eaters."
"This is a bit hard to believe," started the other anonymous Wizard, "that an escaped convict, and a school witch can ferret out the location of the Dark Lord and his headquarters when the entire Auror corps cannot. I'll admit that it's a clever story, but why should we believe it?"
"I don't give a Knut whether you believe it or not," Ginny bristled, "and I care even less about bloody Death Eaters. Harry is alive and someone has to go and get him. I didn't ask for your help, Sirius did. I'm going whether you do or not."
"Miss Weasley," objected Professor McGonagall countered. "You will do no such thing while you are a student here at Hogwarts. This is a matter for the professionals."
"So was finding him, but they didn't even look! They wrote him off as dead!" Ginny countered.
"I'm with Ginny on this one," Sirius said. "Harry is still alive, but for how much longer? A rescue has to be launched and it has to be done soon. Reproduce the magic if you don't believe us."
"It is a very big risk to take for one person, when our resources are stretched as thin as they are," said one of the gray-clad wizards. "It would take a very large force to ensure success, and it would be hard to organize without detection. We know that our command structure has been infiltrated. They would be waiting for us."
"Mr. Potter is more than 'just one person'" Professor McGonagall insisted. "If this is at all possible, I would strongly advise that it be done." She gave Professor Moody a hard look.
Alastor Moody appeared pensive then turned to the anonymous wizards. "Do it! Not a large raid though… Use the Unspeakables and Special Ops – only those you can personally vouch for. Take no more than two dozen at most. Get in fast and get out fast. I want this done within forty eight hours"
The unknown wizards snapped to attention on receipt of their orders. "Take Mr. Black with you as a guide… on my authority."
"Bur, Sir!" the wizards objected. Moody simply glared back at them.
"What about me?" Ginny asked.
"You're staying here, Lass," answered Professor Moody. "You've done a good thing, but as the Professor says, your place is here." Ginny deflated visibly. "Another thing, Lass. Don't breathe a word of this to anyone or anything else you've seen or heard here today."
Harry screamed.
"Tell me what I want to know, Harry. Let me end your torment!." Voldemort said soothingly.
Harry's only reply was another scream of pain. Not content with simply using the Cruciatus curse to torture him, a wide variety of other techniques had been employed. Fire, Ice, beatings, and other things too terrible to remember. Harry could no longer even remember what it was that Voldemort wanted to know, he only knew that there was pain.
"There's no shame, Harry," continued Voldemort, "far stronger men have succumbed to less."
Harry moaned, wishing that he could tell this man what he wanted to know.
"That fool Dumbledore put up no fight at all. You've shown your worth, Harry. You are a worthy opponent, but you have lost. Let it end."
At hearing the name of Professor Dumbledore, vague memories began to resurface and Harry renewed his struggle. Within a few minutes however, he could no longer remember why he was struggling.
"He's fading, Master," hissed Peter Pettigrew. "He won't last much longer."
"Then heal him! Keep him alive until he tells me what I want to know."
Pettigrew shook his head and mumbled to himself. He performed what healing magic he could, but couldn't see where it would be of much benefit. The boy was severely battered and it would take a full-fledged Medi-Wizard to heal the damage that had been done to him.
When the healing was complete, Lord Voldemort returned to pressuring Harry. Time was running out, he knew. It was unbelievable that the boy had lasted as long as he had, but no matter how strong he was, he simply couldn't take much more. If all his enemies were made such, he would have a tough go of it, indeed.
"Harry, I'm tiring of this game…."
There was a sound of loud explosions from above. Lord Voldemort turned to Pettigrew who looked back at him incredulously. "I don't know, Master."
"Of course, you don't! Go find out!" Voldemort screamed in his face. Pettigrew shambled out of the room in a huff of air. Voldemort paced impatiently too distracted to even worry about interrogating Harry. More explosions were heard and occasional screams.
Several minutes passed before Pettigrew returned panting for air. "We are under attack, sir! There are Aurors on the main floor."
"Bloody Hell," shouted Lord Voldemort, "Prepare to evacuate. Have the troops reassemble at the rendezvous point."
"Yes. Master" Pettigrew answered.
"And kill Potter…" Voldemort added off-handedly.
Pettigrew blanched and began to tremble. "P-P-Perhaps, Master, there's a better solution…"
"Stop sniveling, worm! Unless you want to end up in Azkaban, spit it out and hurry up about it."
"Instead of killing Potter, why not cripple him?" Pettigrew suggested.
"Cripple him? Break his legs?" Voldemort asked "Are you daft?"
"No, Master. I mean to remove his wand hand…. He'd be little more than a squib then, and if he is lying, then the sword of Gryffindor will do him no good if he doesn't have a hand with which to wield it. Helpless and unable to aid his companions he'll be forced to watch helplessly as you ascend to power."
Voldemort stopped in his tracks, and turned around "Pettigrew! I'm impressed! Did you think of that all by yourself? Very devious…. Make it so, then…"
Peter Pettigrew very tentatively picked up a large knife from the rack and approached Harry's side. His hands were trembling so severely that he could barley keep the blade in his hand. Finally, mustering some hidden reserve of courage, he raised the edge high and then dropped it. There was a sickening 'thwap!' as flesh hit the floor. Harry screamed as the blade tore through flesh and bone. The wound gushed like a scarlet fountain. Pettigrew went to the brazier and stoked the fire until it became viciously hot before taking one of the iron bars resting there. It glowed red hot and sizzled in the cool air. Pettigrew brought it to Harry's wound and mashed it. Harry howled in pain and the air filled with the stench of burnt flesh and boiling blood.
Reasonably sure that the bleeding had stopped, Pettigrew withdrew the iron and tossed it back into the fire, He then picked up Harry's lifeless hand and held it before Harry's glazed eyes. "You won't be needing this anymore," he said and then tossed it into the fire.
There were pops as Voldemort and Pettigrew apparated out of the room, but Harry was barely aware of them as his world faded into black.
