Paradise Found

Chapter Four

The Double Betrayer

"Welcome to my home, Harry. Did you find your accommodationsss ssatisfactory? I hope so. Now, let us sssee about answering sssome questionss, shall we?" The rasping voice came from across the room but Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the echo of hissing ricocheting off the walls.

"Sod off, Tom." Harry was slightly startled at the rawness of his throat and vowed to speak as little as possible. Voldemort's features twisted from what Harry's limited vision could tell. "Oh, I'm sorry, Tom. Should I address you properly as 'Mr. Riddle'? Is that better? Or is 'Tom' going to be fine?" Harry couldn't figure out why he was signing his own death sentence but wasn't given long to contemplate as he was again struck by a yellow curse and everything went black.

At first he thought he was dead but then wondered if he was just dreaming. Sounds came to him from various points of the room and it was a few moments before he realized he had been blinded. Lifting protesting arms he sought out his eyes on his face and rubbed them hesitantly. Panic bloomed in his chest and he felt his mouth go dry. Rubbing them harder only produced spots of odd colors that soon faded into the void of black shadow. Shattering laughter came from the head of the room, bouncing of the walls to be magnified and joined in by other more earthly like voices. They jeered, and called to him with baby voices; cruel laughter cutting into his very soul. He was blind. It wouldn't be forever though, Harry consoled himself. After a few moment's of panic he recognized the jinx as a harmless way to temporarily blind the enemy, giving ample time to get ones bearings, or his case, cause humiliation and fear.

Giving up on his eyes the teen stood shakily and gave what he hoped was the Dark Lord a glare. The voices around him died down and were replaced with a thick silence. If he could get a wand then perhaps he could curse Voldemort and the prophecy would be over with? Harry through the idea out, he wasn't going to be able to get anywhere near a wand in his present state. A rustle of robes caught his attention and he realized belatedly that someone had been called forward. Measured footsteps passed within two arm spans of him and Harry followed the steps carefully, trying to get his bearings on the room.

Another rustle of cloth and the figure must have been kneeling because Voldemort gave the command to rise. "Harry, do you know who this is? Remove your mask." Voldemort commanded of the figure. Another moment and the mask was stored within the folds of cloth. Harry vainly tried to focus his eyes but it was fruitless. "Well, Harry? Do you know yet?"

Harry could feel anger coursing through his veins. "No," he rasped, "You know I-" His response was cut with a curse. It lasted several moments before being lifted.

"Now, Harry, it was a yesss or no question. None of your ssssimpering rambles will be tolerated here. Now, ansswer me properly. Do you know who thisss isss?"

"No, and I don't care who the bloody wanker IS!" Harry's voice rose into a yell as he was cursed again.

"Tut tut. Now, Harry, such insssolence doesss not become you. Isss that any way to talk about a professor?"

Harry could feel his insides grow cold as the implication set it.

"Now, why don't you address your professor in the proper way?"

Harry couldn't speak. He was afraid to. The rational part of his mind registered that Snape was a spy and a member of the Order but the less rational part of his brain; the part that had been subject to several cruciatus curses already demanded he grow cold with fear and betrayal.

"Well, Potter? Haven't you anything to say to me?" An oily voice, rich with contempt spoke close to his ear. "Of anyone at your precious school I would have thought you might have more fight in you. Ah, but I see that prong longed exposure to the Weasley's has indeed affected your already poor mind. Or is it all genetic? The vacant stare, dull mind, and injudicious tendencies… Yes, yes. Now that I truly think on it, I can remember the same traits running rampant within the Potter line. Evans also seemed particularly slow, otherwise she would have never married that excuse for a wizard Potter. But, as I hear the muggles are fond of saying on the occasion. Birds of a feather fly together. I suppose your father couldn't help but lie with scum."

Harry lashed out with his arm and struck his professor against the jaw with the back of his hand.

Harry didn't need his vision to see the victorious smirk on the older man's face. "Now, Potter, I didn't know you had fallen to the level of muggle brawling? How primitive." The mockery in the voice was tangible and Harry almost lunged for his professor again when a voice came from the front of the room again.

"That's enough, Severus; you've had your fun. Now, for the reason of your presence. I require a beverage for our dear messier Potter. He seems unnaturally dehydrated, does he not? Bring me the Draught of Prometheus; perhaps it will quench our guest's thirst?"

"My master, it will require a day's brewing, I shall have it within your hand tomorrow evening." The oily voice of the potion's master had drifted away from him and Harry felt his strength begin to dissolve. He's a traitor…a traitor…Dumbledore was wrong! He's turned again…

"Very well. You may leave to start brewing it immediately. Dismissed."

A swish of fabric and Harry heard the dark servant leave through the door from which Harry had entered. A moment later Harry himself was spelled into the air and escorted from the room, head lolling death like with no support. Before he left however another figure brushed by into what Harry could only guess was the throne room. Harry caught fragments of the report before the slid shut.

So another plan had been foiled? Good news, very good news. Now if only they would come and foil this particular plan. Sighing heavily Harry could feel the tendril of sleep tug at his already weary body. Closing his eyes he told himself it would be just for a few moments. He had to be ready to escape if the opportunity arose.

The cell they took him to had been slightly altered in his departure. There were shackles attached to the wall and Harry soon found himself in their clutch, one for each foot with long chains that ran to the wall and one for each wrist which likewise had chains that ran to the wall. He had been given straw on the cold, hard floor and a buck near by was apparently for waste. A small, black bowl was produced by one of this guards and setting it down the wizard filled it to the brim with water. A blanket that had been cut from a potato sack was also among the bits of rotten straw and moist stone floor. Harry, who had been jostled awake by the graceless dumping of his body upon the stone floor, didn't fight the tide of sleep as it pounded against him, carrying far away from the land of the conscious.

Electric green eyes opened at the sound of water splashing, sitting up the bespectacled boy glanced around and saw that he was no longer in the prison cell, but sitting in a boat surrounded by a vast expanse of water. Clambering onto one of two seats he pulled his frayed black cloak closer to himself and shivered at the cold that seemed to seep into his very bones. Directly in front of him, on the horizon he could see a swirl of green and ships docking at the port.

As time went on Harry realized the harbor was drifting farther and farther away until it was only a speck. Glancing behind him he scrambled round on his seat to get a better look. A mighty, black fortress was fifty, maybe more meters away from his small boat, it's towers and flying buttresses evident even from the considerable distance. Like an old crone's fingers, the towers clawed at the sky with malcontent, grasping and greedy spikes. As the distance between them lessened Harry could make out voices on the howling wind which had risen up from nothing.

Dark clouds swirled overhead and the air became thick with despair and the threat of rain. Harry felt his scar burn and winced at the memory of his parents rose to the for-front of his mind. The world around him vanished behind the vision and Harry could feel himself falling into his mother's screams. Shades, cloaked with tattered robes rose up to greet him at the blackened shore, scabbed white hands reaching for him.

Azkaban…

With a sudden jerk Harry was awake, shivering violently under the rough material of his blanket. Sweat beaded his brow and his hair lay plastered to his skin; lifting his hand to wipe at his face Harry nearly jumped at how cold his fingers were. Breathing on them offered little if any support so he satisfied himself with curling up even more. Miserable, Harry was even more of an amusement for the death eaters that guarded his cell, each taking terns to taunt him with anything from warmth, food, water, and proper facilities. Harry, with a high fever and a perpetual ache in his bones, let the words stream over him carelessly. On the hour a cloaked figure would come to his door and tell him how many hours of life he had left.

Licking his lips, Harry meditated on everything left behind him at Hogwarts; Ron and Hermione and their incessant presence; warm, endless, and filling meals; Gryffindor tower and all his friends from the DA; heck, Harry even felt a pang of longing for Dumbledore.

Resting his head back on the wall of his prison the boy-who-lived felt something warm and wet slide down his neck and tickle the sensitive flesh of his collar bone and shoulder blades. Lifting a tired hand he wiped at it, frowning as it smeared and brought the hand back to peer closely at a sticky, red substance. Groaning slightly he shifted experimentally and prodded his head to located the origin. Finding a gash near the nape of his neck that had torn open when he had shifted Harry pondered on how he hadn't felt any discomfort. Perhaps he had merely been too cold, he reasoned, suddenly very uneasy. Something was awfully peculiar about this place, the cold for one. It was summer for Merlin's sake, how could it possibly be this cold?

Harry was roused from his thoughts by his door being slammed open and a robed figure stepping in. "Good evening, Potter," said a voice pleasantly,"Lovely evening for a drink- wouldn't you agree?"

"You!" spat Harry, shocked to his core.

He didn't need his glasses to picture lips behind the white mask curving into a smile, "Yes, Potter, me."

"But- no! How did you…" Harry's voice trailed away and he swore violently.

"Bring him," said Malfoy Senior in a colder voice to the two black figures guarding his door.

"Ye', sir."

Harry once again found himself spell bound and levitated to the throne room with its cold, unfeeling black stone walls.

"Hello again, Harry," greeting the snake like voice form the front of the room.

"Tom," said Harry pleasantly, the sound betrayed by the curl of his lip.

"Crucio."

Harry suffered for almost two whole minutes before the curse was lifted and the smooth voice continued. From his new vantage point on the floor Harry pressed his hands to his scar desperately.

"Now, Harry, I understand that Potionsss wass a difficult classs for you? Well, forgive me but I feel that now would be an opportune moment to go over a rather fine concoction. The Draught of Prometheusss. Do you know what it doess? Hm?" When Harry gave no answer but to glare at the twin red eyes Voldemort continued in that same, nauseatingly cultured voice, "The ssstory goesss, that Prometheus, who was trickssster and very clever, managed to even ssswindle Zeusss. Now Zeus, seeking revenge, had Prometheusss bound to a mountain and every day a bird would come and devour his liver. Being immortal kept Prometheus from dying, and every night he would heal and the next day, the process would ssstart anew. He stayed like that for ssseveral hundred yearsss. Can you imagine? An organ being devoured as you stood, alive, to watch? I find the story fassscinating."

Harry felt sick.

"So, Harry, now can you tell me what the Draught doesss?"

"Eats my liver?"

"Correct. But the fun doesn't stop there, dear Harry, oh no. The potion acts like those primitive muggle acids, eating away at the organs first before attacking the muscles, dissolving the human body from the inside out. Geniusss. And do you know which of our favorite potion masters created thisss beauty?"

Harry didn't feel sick, he was sick. Turning his head away he gave several dry, acidic heaves which splashed blood and stomach acid onto the floor in a small puddle.

"Severusss, I believe I left something about the potion out. Would you care to enlighten our dear Mr. Potter yourself?"

"Of course, my master." Harry made out the blurry form of Snape as he sulked forward slightly, circling him like a buzzard. "The potion, when ingested, first reaches the blood stream and eats away at the magical properties. Literally burning the magic within the body into a blackened crisp." Harry felt rather than saw the sadistic glee in his professor's voice. "The poison continues to the organs, eating away at them, until it reaches the heart…"

"Get away from me you sick bastard!"

Voldemort laughed from his throne, his voice going cold as he said, "Administer the draught, Severusss." Harry sought out the unholy red eyes and almost took a step back from the malicious victory. You're mine now, Harry. There is no one to save you here…Pity your precious friends didn't see fit to save you. I could have used the entertainment. Harry tried to shake away the mental link but their proximity was too close and Harry was too weak to fight it off.

He felt himself straddled and immediately clamped his mouth shut. Bone chilling, cold fingers grasped his jaw roughly and squeezed, prying his mouth open. Harry looked up into the unfeeling, black eyes of Snape and jerked his head away.

Drink up, Harry, the sinister voice whispered through the mental link before fading away.

Next: Chapter 5 –Forbidden Heaven

"Open your mouth, Potter," said the dark voice above him. When he steadfastly kept his lips firmly locked Snape snarled something indecipherable and Harry felt his mouth forced open and something liquid poured between his teeth. Feeling his consciousness begin to slip he let his eyes close and could have sworn he heard a voice mutter, "Sweet Merlin, no!" But it was too late and he felt all life abandon him.

Reviewers: Hello, my lovelies, thank you so much for reviewing! And those of you who put me on your author alert and favorites are appreciated very much from this quarter! Keep your reviews and support coming!

Glassdragon2: Ah yes, the man in the brown cloak. Are you quite certain he's dead?

Saphirephoenix: Yes, twas Snape.

READ ME: Because of the impending release of HBP, or as I affectionately title it, another "Harry Bloody Potter" book (what? It has the same initials!), I've decided to postpone updating for a week or so to allow for some quality reading time with our favorite soon-to-be sixteen year old wizard. I'll update prompty, swear to Merlin. Then, after I've had my fill of book six and nit picked it apart I'll probably be typing away furiously on a book seven idea. But I shan't abandon my other fics! I swear!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything to do with him belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bro. and probably a lot more people than I am aware of. I am not making any profit from this; it is purely for my own amusement.