Experiment ch 7
This new potion was, for Harry worse than the others. It was a deep green colour and unlike the others, it did not make Harry feel calm and spaced out. He was in pain. It came and went, sometimes a dull ache and other times waves of nothing short of agony.
People only entered the room to feed Harry, and although he was degraded by the experience of being 'fed', he was starving and ate whatever he was given. The threat of force feeding Harry with a tube kept him compliant.
He was lying listening to 'magic moments' when he felt a warm sensation on his face. A few seconds later a woman came in and wiped across his face with a tissue. The previously white tissue now contained scarlet patches of blood.
"What?" Harry asked, but another wave of pain hit and he moaned.
"We are forcing your magic out of your blood. We theorise that you will suffer nosebleeds, bruising and sickness." The woman perched on the side of the bed. "Look, I'm doing this for the food of the world. I don't want to hurt you. It's not anything personal."
Harry snorted with disdain.
"I'll go and get you a pain suppressor." The woman said. She hurried out and returned with a potion that Harry drank, desperate for the pain to fade. After a few seconds, Harry felt better than he had for days.
"Please don't do this to me. Let me go. You don't even know where Voldemort is – how are you going to blow him up? This is murder, and no good ever comes of that. Please?"
The woman's young face took on a look of sadness. "Harry you don't understand. He is bound to attach us at some point. We can kill him then. Your sacrifice wont be wasted."
Harry fought to get up, anger coursing through him "No! You don't know what you're talking about! I bet nobody even know about this. It's all a secret that you've got me because you KNOW it's wrong!"
"Harry…"
"Don't Harry me! I'm your prisoner, your victim. Don't make this out to be some noble sacrifice! You people are all-"Harry yelled
"What's going on here?" Came a voice from the doorway. Parkinson entered the room looking furious.
"The boy is upset." The young woman replied
"And you are incapable of handling him. You were under strict instructions not to engage in unnecessary conversation or waste pain relief. I noticed a vial missing and came to investigate. You have no idea how that will react with the other potions. Get out! You are now officially reassigned." The woman edged away.
Parkinson turned on Harry "You've lost radio and food for the rest of the day." She then grabbed the other woman and dragged her from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Harry was left alone with the silence. He was very worked up. He struggled fruitlessly. Harry knew his wrists and ankles were a mess. He didn't even know why he continued to struggle. The small chance that he might escape and a desire not to give up fuelled him. After a while Harry gave up, defeated as he saw blood seep from the bonds, and he fell into a fitful sleep.
Over the next week Harry got more and more ill. He could no longer keep food down and slept most of the day. Nosebleeds and headaches filled his waking hours with misery. Harry had lost all hope of rescue. Last night Parkinson had bragged to Fudge that Harry had less than a week to live and that the bomb that Harry's blood would fuel was ready.
They had agreed that in 48 hours Harry would bleed to death to complete the bomb. The fear and anger however had not fizzled into acceptance by physical weakness, The constant barrage from all sides prevented that.
Harry lay there feeling a small trickle of blood run from his nose and down the side of his face. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He was angry that no rescue had occurred. The people on the radio were now reporting him missing and appealing for information.
"If anybody has seen the boy-who- lived please floo the ministry as soon as possible" The news reader said calmly.
Harry rolled his eyes. The-boy-who-lived – they weren't even using his name. Another stomach cramp hit and Harry screamed.
In screaming it was as though someone had flipped a switch. Harry felt the displaced magic within him give a giant heave and he was surrounded by a blast of white light that shook the building.
The magic flew through Harry's body, stemming the nosebleed and dulling the stomach pain before heading to Harry's brain. Harry lost consciousness.
Someone was holding Harry's hand. Harry turned and looked at his headmaster. He could feel that his face was wet with tears.
"Are you alright Harry?"
Harry sat up and extracted his hand. The memories Harry had just relived were swimming in his mind.
"I dunno." Harry replied. "How long did it take?"
"Just over 2 hours." Albus replied.
Harry stood up gazing at his shoes, "I understand why you didn't want me to remember that."
"Would you like a snack?" Molly asked
"No." Harry said in a daze "I need to go upstairs. I'm –uh- tired"
"Ok" Lupin said "Yell if you need anything"
"I'll come back and speak with you in the morning Harry." Dumbledore said.
Harry shuffled from foot to foot for a while before retreating up to his room shutting the door behind him. Harry sat on the floor by his bed, as he couldn't quite bring himself to lie down on it. Harry paced in his room for several hours, trying to make sense of the new information. Harry felt the need to prove that he was more than a weapon, but that's what he was. The only thing with the power to vanquish the dark lord.
At midnight, Harry pulled his pillows and blanket to the floor and fell asleep.