Hi all, here's the next chapter for you. Thanks for waiting so long, I've been having a crazy summer getting ready for college and suchÉanyway, it's a little violent, but nothing you haven't already seen in the HP books. Enjoy!

Chapter Five

Lost Souls

Something was wrong. Ron jerked his head up in a panic. "Hermione..." he whispered, and the sound of his own voice surprised him. It pained him to speak; he attempted to swallow, to clear his throat, and he grimaced as he felt the tension stab at him like a dagger. His heart pounded inside his chest, threatening to burst free and jump across the room. A sharp pain began at the back of his head and jerked its way down his body; his legs twitched beneath him as if attached to strings and being controlled by a crazed ventriloquist. As he opened his eyes, they stung painfully, and as he went to cover them with his hand he felt cold metal restraint tug him back. He growled, the pain in his throat overtaken by the pain in his eyes, and after a moment of squinting his eyes closed he attempted to open them once more. Complete darkness enveloped him. Patting his hand against the wall, he felt cold, damp stone, and it became painfully clear he was a captive in a stone cell. He wondered briefly if his wand was still in his pocket before he realized that that was highly unlikely, and even if it were, what use would it be to him? He wouldn't be able to reach it to save his life. He chuckled appreciatively at the irony in that thought, and as hollow laughter filled the room and bounced off the walls he felt a painful jolt shoot through his body, causing his head to jerk and his hands to tremble. Becoming more and more adamant to learn his exact location, he strained his eyes and scanned the room. Around him, he could somewhat make out the shadows of at least three other figures. Curious, he strained his eyes even further, and just as he tried to identify one to his left, he felt a searing sting that made him curl up into a ball.

And then, suddenly, a vision flew through his mind. He could see her face, writhed up in terror. Hermione was screaming, looking directly at him and screaming...

He felt himself shaking. His head felt heavy, his entire body was weighing down upon him like a boulder, and suddenly it became difficult to stay awake. Another vision passed through his head--Harry flung himself in front Ginny just as a Death Eater had approached her--she fell to the ground in a tumble as Harry struggled to stand--he could hear terrible screams--Hermione came out of nowhere and knocked the Death Eater to the ground in a flash of red light...

"Well, having a bit of a nightmare, I see?"

Ron could feel his body convulsing in pain, his legs jerking beneath him uncontrollably. His mouth was wide open, and it took him a moment to realize that the terrible screaming was emerging from himself. His breathing was ragged. At the recognition of the cold, harsh voice standing above him, he turned over, panting, lifting his head up to look him in the eye.

"Where am I?" he demanded, trying his best to ignore the sharp jab in his throat. "Where are the others--what have you done with them?"

It was then that he heard the presence of another person in the room. From somewhere to his right, a small cough had emerged. Ron jerked his head and felt his heart sink as he noticed Neville curled up in a ball on the floor. He wondered why he hadn't noticed him before, but his thought was interrupted by something else, something much more pressing...

Ron had been Stunned--he felt himself fall to the floor--Dean had tumbled down next to him to see if he was all right--Neville was yelling from somewhere behind him, yelling as he had never heard anyone yell before--"YOU WILL NOT TAKE THESE PEOPLE, YOU WILL NOT TAKE THEM, I WILL NOT LET YOU--"--Ron had rolled over in time to see Neville take out three Death Eaters on his own...down to one, Neville fell backward onto a table as a stream of purple emitted from his wand...

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!"

He jerked himself up, hitting his head against the wall as he did, and an explosion of pain burst through his body. His breath caught in his throat painfully and he couldn't free it. The cold, mirthless voice above him was chuckling softly.

"Ah, the aftermath of such a brutal attack. You shouldn't worry, the effects won't last long. It's too bad we didn't torture you longer, this is actually quite amusing to watch..."

"You leave him alone," came a trembling voice to the right. Neville had opened his eyes and was now gingerly attempting to sit up, though he seemed to be having difficulty persuading his left leg to move. The voice above now laughed heartily, causing Ron to jump.

"You want me to leave him alone, do you? And what, pray tell, will happen to me if I decide I don't want to?"

Ron glanced at Neville, realizing the cold voice had a point. It wasn't exactly as though they had an army waiting for their cue just outside the door. Neville remained silent, glaring at the Death Eater with cold defiance in his eyes. Just as another voice--now somewhere off to the left--began to reveal itself, Ron heard another scream in the back of his mind. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as Parvati ran for her life, hiding behind a tree--jets of blue shot from her wand and Death Eaters fell over each other in a heap--one came from the other side and laughed mercilessly--Parvati shrieked as a flash of green shot past--she crumpled to the ground, her eyes wide with shock--Ron felt a surge of anger rush through him as he ran toward her lifeless body...

"Hmm, perhaps it won't wear off as quickly as I thought, eh?" spoke the cold voice. "Interesting...well, goodie for me. Unfortunately, I must depart for a short while, but don't worry, I'll be back..."

Though Ron could not hear them, he felt the soft footsteps of the cold voice as they drifted toward an exit some twenty feet away. Ron felt his head lull forward into his chest. As hard as he tried, he could not make himself remember the events that had landed him in this cell; he could only piece them together from the flashbacks-as unfortunately painful as they were-and see where that got him. As he began recalling the flashbacks in his mind, he was struck with a realization--wherever he was, Harry was not with him. Had he been, he obviously would have spoken up by now, if not on his own accord, then as a reaction of Ron's screams. He would have, wouldn't he? Or maybe he too was crumpled in a ball along the wall, so severely beaten that he found it unbearable to force words to emerge from his lips. Ron scrunched up his face again, this time in a great effort to search the room for any sign of The Boy Who Lived, when a voice spoke--the same that had revealed itself just before Ron's last flashback--and startled him out of his attempt.

"He's not here," came a soft, quiet voice to Ron's left. Ron jerked his head in surprise, at both the voice's sudden presence and his apparent insight as to his query. Searching in the direction of the voice, his eyes twittering madly in the darkness and failing to settle on something concrete, Ron exclaimed frantically.

"What do you mean, he's not here? Where is he? What did they do to him?"

"He-he's the only one the Death Eaters couldn't capture. He...he was too strong for them. They just couldn't take him."

And suddenly a face emerged from shadow and became somewhat visible. As soon as Ron recognized his face, he saw him flash before his eyes--this time, a wand in his hand, determination screwed into his face like a light bulb, his mouth wide open in a brave panic--"Lavender, move!"--a girl, pushed aside and a boy, pressing forward--"Seamus, no! Please, stop"--a wand flying through the air, a grunt, two grunts, and the descent of Seamus as two Death Eaters tackled him to the ground...

Just as Ron opened his mouth to reply, the door to the cell opened with a loud clank. Several heads jerked to view who was entering. Four hooded men swooped forward, one heading in each direction, the sound of soft laughter emanating from each of them. As each drew out their wands, soft flashes of light flew toward them and the cold metal dropped from the captives' wrists. With rough tugs and shoves, they were pulled from the floor and forced into standing position. Each of them in turn shut their eyes as they were dragged toward the exit--they had been in darkness for so long that their poor eyes were shocked ruthlessly by the impeding light coming from above. Ron focused on his feet; he could feel every stone under his shoes as though he weren't wearing any. The walk down the hall seemed to last an eternity, made even longer by the impossible silence surrounding him. When he finally opened his eyes, he felt himself being shoved against a wall; looking around, he was finally able to see who had been in captivity with him. Neville stood next to him, looking nowhere but his feet; to Nevile's right stood Seamus, nervously fingering the hem of his torn sleeve as though he missed its presence greatly. Past Seamus stood Lavender, her head hanging drowsily in the middle of her chest, her lip trembling and her hands twitching; Ron observed her nervously and hoped against all hope that she would be strong enough to not succumb to another seizure. To her right stood Dean, his left eye puffed up in a bloody bruise and a stream of blood trickling gently from his left nostril; and further past him stood...Fred? He looked almost unrecognizable, the left side of his face mangled so badly with cuts and bruises that Ron wondered how he appeared so calm. Though there were at least five others past the quiet redhead, he had become so distracted by the appearance of his brother's face that he had completely forgotten about observing the others.

"Fred," he whispered, to no avail. Just as he opened his mouth to try again, he felt a cold arm grip him above the elbow and pull him from the wall. Before he could register what was happening, he felt himself become swallowed by darkness once more and the harsh lock of a door behind them. As he was thrown to the floor of a smaller, danker cell that smelled oddly like cabbage, the cold voice he had heard earlier filled the room.

"Well, well well, Weasley, we meet again...

Ron's head snapped up in an inexplicable rage that suddenly connected something within him he hadn't been able to recognize before. As he stared into the dark hood of the cold voice, it fell back to reveal a stark, pale face with a grin of pure malice and draped in a sheet of sleek blond hair.

"Don't worry, we're going to have a lot of fun. Now, be a good weasel and stick out your left arm for me, will you?

Ron bared his teeth ruthlessly and a wry smile played on his lips.

"Like I'm really going to play along with your little game. You seem to have forgotten who I am, Malfoy. Or have you always underestimated me?"

Malfoy's grin turned sour and in a fell swoop he was upon Ron, grasping his right arm and yanking it forward with great force as Ron's face contorted in pain.

"You think you can jerk me around, Weasley? Think again. You're defenseless against me, and there is nothing you can do about it! Let me show you just how much I'm going to enjoy this..."

Ron stared at him boldly, harboring a secret fear he refused to reveal. It was true; he was powerless against Malfoy and there was nothing to be done about it but pray he would die quickly. Malfoy pulled his wand from his pocket and pressed it lightly against Ron's wrist, looking at Ron with an expression of mock thoughtfulness.

"Hmm...what shall I do? Ohh, hmm, yes. Now, Weasley, try not to cry, I know how hard it is for you to control your emotions..."

With a cruel smirk, he slowly dragged the wand along the length of Ron's arm, while yellow sparks flew softly from each side. Ron's head fell forward in a pain he had never known before. He felt as though his arm was being slowly ripped in half, and then as though his entire body were burning from the inside out. Without any realization of opening his mouth and pressing his vocal chords, he heard incredible screams fill the room as though they came from someone else. When Malfoy reached his elbow, he stopped, and by the time Ron could finally open his eyes, his cheeks were sodden with tears. Malfoy let out a small snort and took a step back.

"Look, look what I've done to you...you wouldn't think it possible, yet here it is...my my, that looks painful..."

Ron looked reluctantly at his arm and immediately felt horrible sickness wash over him and sink uncomfortably into the pit of his stomach. The tip of Malfoy's wand had cut so deeply into his arm that it looked as though he had been stabbed with it. Ron felt faint as the blood gushed down his arm--while the pain had been permissible, the sight of blood was had been too much for him. As his eyes grew hazy, he heard shrill laughter from above; his body was falling, sinking into the floor, and just before his eyes shut he caught one last glimpse at Malfoy as he stood over him, and he felt vaguely the sensation of something pulling on his left arm and a cool dripping on his left wrist. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, slowly, slowly...

"Ah, and another for the count. Wonderful...well, Weasley, sweet dreams..."